A week later, Varric stepped into the front room of the mansion, a serious look on his face. "Hawke," he shouted. "Where are you?"
Hawke stepped backward out of the library, a book in his hand. "Did I miss something?"
"You've managed to avoid all that commotion outside?"
Hawke frowned. "What's going on?"
"Orsino and the Knight Commander. How the hell haven't you heard?"
"I've been in the library. Sound doesn't carry well in here."
"Get dressed," Varric said. He sounded nervous. "They're going to kill each other if this keeps up."
Hawke put the book down on a table, and slowly walked up the stairs. He returned several minutes later, dressed in armored trousers and a shirt with light plating at the shoulders. He carried his staff, and slung it over his shoulder. His boots were armored at the toe, and the sharp claws on his right gauntlet shimmered. "Presentable enough?" Hawke wondered aloud.
"You'll knock them out, Hawke. Come on." Varric gestured, and they walked out of the house.
The crowd outside was listening, but it was a tenuous silence, with occasional murmurs and whispers filtering through. First Enchanter Orsino stood atop a bench, preaching to the crowd, his thin hands imploring for their attention. "I know you fear us!" he said, his voice strong. "I know what is said about us. The Knight Commander wishes you to be afraid. She turns this city against us, even as we suffer under her boot. Mages are your mothers, fathers, children, and siblings. We are your families, your friends. Will you stand against us when the Knight Commander would see us all made silent for simply existing?"
Varric grunted beside Hawke. "This will end badly."
"Andraste's ass," Hawke mumbled. "How long has he been at it? She's got eyes everywhere."
"Shit," Varric muttered, tugging on his sleeve. "Here comes trouble."
Hawke glanced and saw Anders, lingering at the back of the crowd. "Bloody hell," Hawke breathed. "Varric. Get him out of here. I'm going to stop Orsino."
"Stop him? Hawke. Hawke! Don't go in there, you stupid—" Varric tried to grab Hawke's belt but the human began gently pushing through the crowd.
A voice stopped him halfway through.
"That is enough!" Knight Commander Meredith's shrill tone stopped the crowd's movements and mutterings.
The templar approached Orsino. "You are outside the Gallows, preaching sedition. Did you believe that you could this without punishment?"
"You may hold the whip, Meredith, but you do not hold my mind. I will say what I wish." The old elf's voice was filled with fierce pride. Hawke almost liked him in that moment.
"You are out of line," Meredith told him.
"As are you!" the First Enchanter exploded. "Your templars hunt us, hound us, watch us at all times. You hold this city in a grip of fear. Step aside and allow the City Guard to do as they are trained. You are not the power in this city, Knight Commander. Step aside."
"You dare speak to me—"
"I am not afraid of you," the First Enchanter declared. He stood tall. "And there are others in this city who do not bow to your whims. The Champion of Kirkwall stands among us."
Oh you slippery bastard, Hawke thought, swiftly returning to his previous dislike of Orsino. You are not involving me.
"Perhaps he has something to say to you," Orsino concluded.
The crowd separated around Hawke. Meredith gave him an expectant look. Orsino smiled at him, but Hawke saw fire in his eyes, saw the rage simmering beneath the surface.
"I'm just here for the show," Hawke said, raising his hands. "Carry on. Public debates are marvelous for the blood. Gets it pumping, you know. Don't mind me."
Orsino's mouth curved into a frown. Meredith watched Hawke suspiciously. "You will stay out of this," she told him.
"As I intend to do," Hawke said. "You two want to kill each other, by all means, have a go. I'll be over here, minding my own business."
Orsino piped up. "Champion. Will you stand with me? Will you remind this woman what her place is?"
"My place?" Meredith thundered at the First Enchanter. He took a step back, startled. "You think to tell me what my place is?"
"I don't think it much matters what he or anyone else thinks," Hawke remarked. "You'll do whatever your mad little brain tells you is best."
Meredith stalked toward him. "You are an unleashed mage," she said to him, her voice low and serious. "By all rights, your life belongs to me."
"My life belongs to me," Hawke corrected her. "My life is mine. You don't own my mind, and you don't own my soul. Back the hell away from me, templar."
The Knight Commander's eyes narrowed. "You are on borrowed time," she told him. "Your status protects you only so far. If you stand with him—"
"Oh get over your bloody self," Hawke said, and stepped back from her. "I don't care about either of you. Orsino," he barked, "you're crazy. Meredith," he continued, "you're just as crazy, just as wrong as he is. Don't pull me into your little game. I won't play."
"No," said a trembling, angry voice. "No, you won't." Anders stepped forward. "Meredith already controls us, and now she wants us all to suffer for a few sins. You want us all to pay for some wretched crime you've only imagined," he told the Knight Commander. "You would punish us all for some mad scheme that you've invented. You're the real threat. The one we should all—"
Hawke reached out his hand, grabbed the back of Anders' collar, spun him around, and punched him in the face. The other mage fell to the ground, clutching his jaw. Hawke crouched over him. "Stop helping," he snarled softly. "Shut up and stop."
Anders stared at him, and there was a touch of fear in his face. Varric gripped his shoulder and gestured for him to come away. Reluctantly, the mage did.
Hawke stood up and looked at Meredith. She gave him a confused look. Hawke spread his arms. "And see now?" he said. "I'm on nobody's side by my own. If you'd care to try and take me away from my own side, then by all means, have a go."
She sneered at him. "One of these days, Champion."
"Not today, I think." He smiled. "Unless you're really as bad as they all say you are. What's a Knight Commander like on the battlefield I wonder?"
Her lips curled back into an unfriendly smile. He mirrored it, baring his teeth. Meredith stepped back, looking almost impressed. "If you weren't a mage," she spat the word, "you would make for an excellent templar, Champion. You have the spark in you."
"Sod your spark," he responded.
Meredith nodded. "Then we're understood." She looked at Orsino. "And you. Get down from there. You are coming with me and we will discuss, for the final time, whose influence will—"
"All this commotion," said an older woman's voice. The crowd parted, and the Grand Cleric casually entered the courtyard. "May I ask why?"
"Your Grace," Meredith said, "this mage is speaking against the rule of the city. He will be removed."
"Ah, Orsino," the Grand Cleric said sympathetically. "Do you hope to preserve those in your charge through this act?"
The First Enchanter's face flexed with conflicting emotion. "I… no, Your Grace. You must see what—"
"Do not bring Her Grace into this," Meredith shouted at him. "You will come with me, and we will—"
"That is enough, Meredith!"
The Knight Commander and the First Enchanter both faltered. The Grand Cleric never raised her voice.
Grand Cleric Elthina glanced at Hawke, who was watching casually, and then looked at two of Meredith's guards. "Young men, escort the First Enchanter to the Gallows. Gently, if you please."
Meredith sputtered. "Your Grace, I must—"
"I have already said enough, and so have you," Elthina said sharply. "Meredith, return to your offices. There's a good girl. Go on. I've said enough for the time being. We will discuss matters again later, when tempers are cooled. Go back to the Gallows. Go on."
Meredith, humbled, stormed into the crowd.
"I urge you all to return to your homes," Elthina told the gathered citizens. "There is a time and a place. This is neither. Please return to your homes."
Like good Andrastians, they did as they were told.
Elthina exhaled heavily. Hawke gave a few claps of his hands. "That was inspired, Your Grace."
"I suspect you enjoyed that," Elthina told him.
"Apart from throwing those two in cells, you're not getting anywhere with them," he said.
"True enough." Elthina looked at him. "And where do you stand, Master Hawke?"
"On my feet?"
She rewarded him with a faint smile. "I suspect that is a good place to stand."
"I've always thought so." He rocked on his toes. "Good support and all that."
Elthina shook her head. "Still laughing at the world."
"If I can't laugh, it's not worth living," he said. His face grew briefly serious. "Can't you do something about them? I mean, apart from locking them in a room and letting them kill each other. I'm joking, I'm joking," he added at her appalled expression.
"Neither of them will listen," Elthina told him. "Meredith and Orsino are both in the right, and they are both wrong. Who are you and I to tell them otherwise?"
"You do realize that this is going to be my problem soon?"
"It will only be a problem if you find no solution."
"Grand Cleric, you're a lovely woman, but I do hate it when you talk in riddles."
The Grand Cleric folded her hands. "I suggest your eyes remain open, Master Hawke. It is sometimes the obstacle we don't see that blocks our path."
"I'll keep an eye out for invisible boulders," he replied.
She sighed. "Good day, Master Hawke." She walked away.
Hawke folded his arms, and watched her depart. Elthina was wise, and she certainly knew how to play word games. He wondered what her influence could offer to the problems of Meredith and Orsino. He rather liked the idea of locking them in a room together.
Varric approached. "Anybody else feel a shiver?" he wanted to know.
"What? You mean there isn't a dagger in my back?" Hawke replied. "Could have sworn Meredith tried to set me on fire with her mind. Of course, she'd have to be a mage for that. Oh, that would be awkward, wouldn't it?"
Varric laughed nervously.
Anders slapped Hawke. "Must you joke about everything?"
"Yes!" Hawke shouted, shoving Anders away. "If you can't laugh, then what's the bloody point?"
Anders clenched his fists. "You keep laughing, and they'll kill us all."
"They've been killing us for a thousand years," Hawke snapped. "What would make them stop now?"
"We can change their minds," Anders protested. "We can do this thing. If you'd stop laughing, if you'd just pull your head out of the sand, if you would just listen when I talk, then maybe we'd make progress. Instead, you laugh, and you say that we're invincible. We both know how this ends, Hawke! We know."
Hawke scowled at him. "I don't know," he said. "I've got no bloody clue. I also don't care. It'll end when it ends. If we're lucky, the anger will fade, and they'll behave like rational people. When that happens, I will be the happiest damn mage in this city. Until that time, though, we'll go about our lives, we'll laugh, we'll drink, and we'll be merry, because we could die tomorrow, and I'd rather go out with good memories and a smile on my face. Wouldn't you?"
"I have no good memories," Anders said.
"And there's the miserable bastard I know," Hawke said. He gestured to Varric. "Let's go. I don't have time for this."
"Hawke!" Anders shouted after him.
"You've already said it, Anders. I don't need an encore."
"I need your help!"
Hawke stopped. He slowly turned and looked at Anders.
"Come by my clinic," Anders said, "tonight. I… I need to talk to you. Alone. I can't, I can't trust anyone else."
"Did he just ask you to trust him?" Varric muttered under his breath.
"Shut up, dwarf," Hawke responded. He took a slow step toward Anders. "When?"
"Oh, bad idea," Varric grumbled, and rubbed his forehead.
"After sundown," Anders said. "I'll need some time to explain."
Hawke was silent for several minutes.
"Midnight," Anders said again. "I'll ask for an hour of your time. Two hours at the most. I'll ask you for nothing after that. I swear to you."
"Don't do it," Varric said.
"Midnight," Hawke said. "Fine. Sure. I'll be there."
Anders sighed heavily, but he smiled. "Thank you… Marekh, I mean it, thank you."
Hawke did not react to the use of his name. "Sundown," he repeated.
Anders retreated from the area.
"Oh, I hate you sometimes," Varric grunted.
"Come along, Master Tethras. I need a drink."
"Forget one," Varric said, "I need at least three."
As they descended the stairs into Lowtown, the dwarf spoke again. "You want anybody with you tonight for backup?"
"He said alone."
"Right, and what happened the last time you were alone with him?"
"I remember," Hawke said, and his armored fist clenched. "You think I'd forgotten?"
"No," Varric said, "but when he asks for a favor, it never ends well."
"Nothing he asks me for does." Hawke folded his arms. "Karl made Tranquil, and dying; that girl in the sewers dying. Ser Alrik's mad plan, and it's all his own. All the mages we've come across, even the best intentioned ones, they all turn on us, or he asks me to free them. Anders wants to win this little war, and it's all due to that voice in his head."
Varric nodded. He was silent for a moment, then, "So, how did it feel, going toe to toe with Meredith?"
"I nearly pissed myself."
"That a boy," Varric said, clapping him on the back. "Let's get a drink."
Varric found himself distracted by a willing audience of lovely young ladies, so Hawke made himself comfortable at the table near Isabela's usual perch. "You've got that look again," Isabela said. "The one that says 'I'm about to do something awful and I really wish someone would hit me until I come back to reality.'"
"I have made no bad decisions today," he said, raising his glass.
Isabela rolled her eyes. "The entire city's talking about your little confrontation with Meredith."
"It was a heated adult conversation. There was nothing confrontational about it."
"Right," Isabela drawled. "You were just defending the helpless little old man."
"If Orsino's helpless then I'm a Chantry priest."
"How does one repent for that?" Isabela wondered aloud.
"Repent for what?"
"If I've been getting serious with a Chantry priest, do I have to repent for that? What does one do in that situation? Diddling sisters is one thing, but… wait… aren't men only priests in Tevinter?" She narrowed her eyes. "Tempted by blood magic, a Chantry priest… I knew it! A Tevinter spy!" She laughed.
Hawke stared at her, one eyebrow arched. "Are you quite finished?"
"I haven't gotten you in bed yet, so no."
"I'm supposed to meet the abomination himself at midnight. If you want to make time."
She wrinkled her nose. "What does he want?"
"That one last favor."
Isabela looked at the ceiling. "If I was the praying sort," she said, "I'd tell you to take a knife with you."
"What does that have to do with prayer?"
"It's a knife in your hand. What's a god got to do with that?"
"Ah. Clever. I see your point." She swatted him upside the head. He grinned. "You walked into that."
"I may have done," she said. She held out her hand. "Well, if we're to get the dirty business over with, so you have a pleasant thought in your mind when you go talk with the stupid abomination, then we'd best get to it."
He took her outstretched hand. A suddenly content look fell over his face. "Or," he said quietly, "I have a better idea. I'll leave the abomination to his madness, and you and I can set sail for wherever we want to go. What do you say to getting as far away from here as we can get?"
"I don't have a boat," she said.
"I'll have to remedy that situation," he said. He kissed her hand. "I should go. With my luck, he'll have killed three templars by the time I get there."
"What? You're just going? Now?"
"Midnight, Isabela. Can't keep abominations waiting. They might try to eat you." He squeezed her fingers. "Won't be long."
"Don't do anything stupid."
"I never do." He gave her a dashing smile and then walked out of the bar.
He didn't hear her soft retort, "Liar." She looked at her drink, and suddenly decided that she was not waiting around for him to return. She got off her chair, strolled past Varric and his audience, and left the building. She saw the top of Hawke's head disappearing down the stairs, heading for Darktown. She followed him.
