Thanks to elenilote for the help on Antivan endearments and Corker for poking holes. Next chapter, shit explodes.
In retrospect, the plan had been doomed to fail. Sneaking onto the ship of one of the most notorious pirates of the age and hoping not to be caught? She'd been lucky it was the right ship and she and her reluctant companion hadn't been press-ganged into service. And Uncle Cadryn was right: all she'd done was possibly hurt people, hurt the crew by taking up extra resources, hurt Tauno by earning him punishment, hurt her fellow Wardens. Once she'd had several hours scrubbing decks in the hot sun, and her skin was no longer the sweet tan that ran in her family but red like roasting meat, her body sore in ways wielding a pair of daggers could never produce, and she rested in a ratty hammock someone had offered up, not daring to breathe too deep for fear it might dump her out again, she reflected on the whole thing.
And she kept reflecting all the way to Antiva. Tauno took to the work quietly, never complaining, but she could tell it upset him. She'd been making progress on getting the burly elf to open up, and now he was back to terse, awkward answers. And after the first time she disobeyed an order from the crew Uncle Cadryn took her aside and told her in great detail what they did with crew members who shirked their duties, and she was beginning to truly understand he wasn't the hero everyone made him out to be—and was, more than they realized. She'd expected life in the Wardens to be full of hardship, and had certainly prepared herself, mentally and emotionally, for the worst—even the death of those around her, which she knew well after Highever—but there was a darkness to being a Warden she hadn't understood, and she knew she'd only had a taste of it. She'd never see another Blight in her lifetime, so she was safe. Those who had... they had a mark on them, a haunt to their eyes, a hardness that stole the edge off any innocence left in them. And Melia kept coming back to the thought that Cadryn was only a handful of years older than her. She wasn't going to find any familial sympathy from the Warden Commander. The dark-haired mage with them was no better, sullen and apologetic for every little thing, following Cadryn around like a pale shadow.
She determined, by the time they sighted land, to find another way to prove herself. She'd meditated long and hard on what she'd done and how badly what she was about to do could go. A day before they were to make port, she found Uncle Cadryn poring over a map with Isabela pointing out landmarks and important sites to the Crows. She waited until Isabela noticed her, and the pirate got Cadryn's attention.
"If you're here to protest being sent back, it won't do you any good." How dispassionate his face was, utterly devoid of emotion to signal her, was worse than a disapproving look of any caliber.
"No." She spoke slowly, deliberately, hoping to get across in tone how much thought she'd put into this. "I wanted to tell you that I'm ready to follow orders."
He was quiet for a moment, a strange look in his eyes as if he were assessing her for the first time, again. And then he proclaimed, in a similarly deliberate tone, "Rest up. You'll need it tomorrow."
ooooo
The man who stepped of the Siren's Call in the Hero of Ferelden's place was not Cadryn Amell. He was more golden skinned from the sun's caress, neither dressed nor armed as a mage but as a warrior, in light leathers, all dark and close fitting, and a more roguish cut than the Rivaini sword and the broad, square shield with no sigil he carried would suggest. His hair was shorn close, colored pitch black, and without the length of it softening the strong lines of his face and the color of it fighting with the color of his eyes, he looked as haunted as Warden Kristoff's walking corpse. This man was, by no estimation of those who'd known him, Cadryn Amell, the man who'd stopped the fifth Blight. This was the Warden Commander of Ferelden, the man who'd left Amaranthine a smoldering shell and turned loose a darkspawn arcanist more frightening than any abomination, in spirit made manifest.
Three people dressed as mercenaries followed him, two men, one an elf, and a woman with hair the same black color. At his side was Captain Isabela, who followed him only to the dock and then kissed him, open-mouthed, passionate. He reciprocated, but with significantly less vigor, and their companions gaped. When she pulled back she ran a hand through his close-cropped hair and mused, "You shouldn't have cut it so short. Your little bird will be positively scandalized."
"He'll get over it in short order." Cadryn repeated the gesture himself all the same, a nervous jitter to his hand. It was the last time he would let himself slip until this whole affair was done with, but he needed it. Despite everything about her Isabela was safe. "Thank you."
"And thank you," she purred, leaning back, "for your generous contribution to the 'get Isabela a fleet and a fancy commander's hat' fund. Now go get that little bird of yours and bring him back safe."
Though none of them had been here before Cadryn knew the way, those nights not spent drowning out his sorrows in Isabela's arms having been spent poring over maps of Antiva City in her quarters and asking her about the place. The plazas were wide and the streets were narrow, and so far everything matched up with the map in his head. The four of them found the safehouse Ignacio had detailed in short order, winding single-file up a narrow set of stairs just perfect for the fire trap he'd been warned was mounted on the door at the top. Cadryn knocked, and a little slide in the door opened just barely, a pair of wary brown eyes peering out. He held up the braid, and the slide shut.
After a few minutes of waiting and several clicks and unlatching sounds the door opened, and a little elven woman opened the door, middle-aged, folding her hands in front of her. Cadryn still caught sight of her fingers, twisted and broken as though from torture. "He said there'd only be one." She sniffed, indignantly, at the number of people who shuffled into the little apartment. The doors to any other rooms were closed, and a table with four chairs sat in the middle of the room.
"Change of plans." Cadryn didn't sound happy about it, so she accepted it with a curt, understanding nod. She took her seat on the far side of the table, and Cadryn sat opposite her. After only the briefest hesitation Melia sat on his left, moving with certainty, and Jowan settled in on the right, dark eyes darting around nervously. Tauno stood over Cadryn's left shoulder, keeping close to Melia, and loomed most impressively.
"We'll get right to business," she said, never offering an introduction, her accent coloring her voice as thickly as her sun-bleached hair and sun-darkened skin. "Your friend was captured by the Crows. He lives, free." Only willpower kept Cadryn from slouching in relief, his greatest fear finally alleviated. "He has taken over the cell that captured him. More and more Crows flock to his service every day; those that are honest remain, by all appearances loyal. Those who are not die. They fight openly in the streets and play what politics they can to destroy the cells controlled by noble houses. Antiva is at war. And we have chosen our side."
"Is he winning?"
"No," she said, her voice taking a curious little quirk, and her head tilted ever so slightly. "But he is not losing. The Crows are entrenched, they have allies and fear. He has stolen many of their best and brightest, and he is too clever for them. You could surely turn that tide for him; and I can arrange a meeting, but it will take me two days to do so safely."
Cadryn only hesitated a moment, searching for something in her wary eyes, before he answered her. "I'll need to think about it. To plan. It won't take long."
"I understand," she said, nodding. But she couldn't, because it didn't make sense, especially not to anyone he'd brought with him. "We will meet here again tomorrow morning, at seven bells?"
"Yes." They stood, shook hands, and Cadryn led his little group out of the small apartment and away. He moved with such confidence that he had to know where they were going. Tauno still followed just behind him, unquestioning, but Melia and Jowan exchanged a confused, worried look. They knew better than to ask until the group was safely tucked away in a seedy little inn near the docks, and then Cadryn sent his two younger wardens off with a list of supplies, knowing full well it would take them twice the time they expected because of communication difficulties.
Which left himself and Jowan alone. Cadryn stood at the window, looking out at the city, dry and painfully hot place that it was, and so yellow as to be almost be golden. The people were all beautiful and exotic, and Tauno and Jowan would give him away easily by their pale southern complexions; he and Melia fit in well enough with their hair colored dark, even if it turned out, now that he was surrounded by Antivans, the cast of their skin was a little off. He could just hope none of the Crows were armchair experts on the Alamarri.
Only the moist sea air kept him from choking on the dust, but something else entirely kept his mouth dry, kept him wanting. He couldn't indulge that with anyone else around, though, especially not Jowan who would know and Melia who would ask questions. But Jowan remained, waiting quietly while Cadryn stared out the window of the little suite of rooms they'd
paid for.
"I thought you came here for him," Jowan finally said, and Cadryn could hear him shifting nervously without turning to look. The strange garb loaned by Isabela made the blood mage uncomfortable, as if he had put on someone else's skin, and he certainly didn't look the part, but he didn't plan to parade Jowan around the city. Or any of them. "Why are we delaying?"
"What if he's made a life for himself here?" Cadryn didn't turn, looking out at the city still, marveling that even here in one of the rougher-looking parts of town everyone seemed so beautiful, so full of life and laughter. How could anyone leave that for Ferelden? He steeled himself, refusing to let the reality of the city and of his words sink in emotionally just yet. "What right would I have to take that away? To make him live in my shadow forever? He's not a pet to be caged."
Turned away he couldn't see Jowan's expression, nor would he have expected it, a sudden anger coming over the other mage. "I love Lily. So much that I would deny everything I am for her. I was ready to give up everything. I still am. Would you?"
"Yes," Cadryn answered, breathless with the thought of golden skin and golden hair and plump lips swollen from bruising kisses, of the steady rhythm that had drowned out Urthemiel's song, of the mischievous smile and the deft hands that carefully disorganized his neatly organized existence. He needed Zevran; they were two halves of a whole.
"Then sort it out after you've done the heroic bit. Otherwise this whole trip was a waste, and in a perfect world I would've been snogging my one true love by now."
"I think that's the smartest thing you've ever said, Jowan."
"Shut up."
The whole exchange made him feel so normal that Cadryn turned, a little smile curling his lips, just sparking in his eyes. "I have a very important job for you then, Jowan. Things are going to happen quickly, and I need to be sure the Antivan Wardens are out of the way."
The next morning everyone had their tasks set, and Cadryn went to meet with Ignacio's contact alone. She let him in, they sat down. And before she could say anything, Cadryn began.
"I don't want you to arrange a meeting with Master Arainai." He folded his hands on the edge of the table, making eye contact and keeping a stern little smile on his lips. "I want to meet with the other faction."
"Signor, I don't think-"
"I have a letter," Cadryn produced it from his jerkin, a carefully folded piece of parchment with a wax seal in the Wardens' insignia, "you will give them, by way of introduction. It explains that the First Warden has ordered the Ferelden Warden-Commander to tie up the loose end of his indiscretion, that Master Arainai has learned Warden secrets and must be dealt with accordingly before he spreads them. It states that I have been hand-picked by the Warden-Commander to deal with Arainai, and am under his instruction to work with them."
"How much of that is true?"
"The less you know," Cadryn's smile took on a warning gleam, a little wicked, "the safer we all are."
"I will do this, then." Cadryn passed her the letter, and she tucked it safely away. "I expect they will respond by this evening. They are eager for any advantage, so much so that such a ruse just might work."
"Its not entirely a ruse." She raised an eyebrow at that, eying him suspiciously. "Just send them the letter; I still guarantee your safety, and that of Ignacio and Cesar."
She ushered him out, and Cadryn left to signal the others.
ooooo
Zevran could hear the commotion in the hall before it reached his office, where he had been quietly conversing with the blood mage—who, he had since discovered, was named Evlia—and Sil about the day's operations, about who had joined and who had died in the day's skirmishes and where to strike the next day with which groups. The harsh rapping on his door was the sound Amidra made when she thought she had something that would please him, and at a gesture Sil opened it.
The human woman swept in, her leathers spattered with a dramatic flare of blood likely placed on purpose—because even she admitted she was no good at fighting—and the two brothers, Valentin and Vinicio, following her. One carried a pale, flaxen-haired and startlingly solidly-built elven man hanging limply over his shoulder; the other carried a human woman in well-fitted if simple leathers, struggling violently, a little bruise blossoming around one green eye and on her chin. Her hair was black, and her skin a little red, and she was small, but the sight of her stopped Zevran's heart all the same.
"Spies," Amidra announced, voice bright and smooth. "They made it inside the compound before we caught them, and-" She stuttered when Zevran cleared his desk to stalk up to the girl held tight in Vinicio's arm's, grasped her chin and turned her head side to side. The girl boldly kept eye contact, and if she was afraid she didn't show it.
"There's something for you in my belt pouch, Ser," she said, in the trade tongue, Fereldan accent thick.
Zevran let go of her chin and opened the pouch, extracting a bit of paper folded into an envelope of very precise measurements, sealed with the Grey Wardens' insignia. And though he knew what was in it by the feel of it through the paper, Zevran opened it with a careful swipe of a dagger under the seal, and emptied the contents onto his desk: a necklace of fine golden chain identical to the one he wore; a very familiar earring; and a braid of his own hair. Inside the envelope, in a very precise and neat script, was written,
Keep these safe for me until I am able to collect them. I love you; do not doubt this.
Even knowing he was in the company of Crows, Zevran couldn't contain his smile, the swell of pride and pleasure in his breast outweighing any worry.
"Let her go," Zevran ordered, giving a little dismissive gesture with one hand, the other taking up the length of chain and idly running it through his hand. "And have a healer see to him." The brothers obeyed unquestioningly, letting the girl go and carrying the elven man out to take care of him. Amidra managed not to gape, but only by some great effort of will. All of Zevran's attention turned on the Fereldan girl. "How are you related to the Hero, hm, dear?"
"He's my uncle." She straightened, bristling and proudly stepping in front of Amidra, and Zevran decided on the spot that he liked her. She was just the right mix of naïve and overconfident to be entertaining, destined to fail hard so many times and unwilling to accept or even recognize defeat. She reminded him of himself, at a much earlier age. "But blood ties are unimportant; I'm a warden."
"Oh, are you now, ombretta?" Zevran resisted the urge to ruffle her hair playfully, staying where he was, well past arm's length. "Did he send any news with you?"
"Only that," she said, nodding to the envelope's contents. "And that we're at your disposal for as long as you need us."
The little smile on Zevran's face quirked into a smirk. "I can think of a few uses for a pair of foreign Grey Wardens."
ooooo
Jowan's job seemed comparatively simple, knocking on the door to the Grey Wardens' local headquarters and flashing the seal Cadryn had given him. Here in Antiva City it was less a compound, as their real headquarters for both Antiva and Rivain was up in Ayesleigh. With the seal they let him, and he was ushered into the Antivan Warden Commander's office, a crowded little room dominated by a large desk, a pair of chairs, and a number of very large swords hanging from the walls.
The Warden Commander herself was a petite elven woman of indeterminate age, who introduced herself, "Isadora. Charmed, my brother," her complexion dark and her hair sun-kissed. She wore a leather half-mask covering the left side of her face, and Jowan could just make out shiny scar tissue at the very edge of the mask, as that left by a rushed healing. She wore gloves on both hands, cut from the same leather as the mask. She read the letter quickly, little more than skimming it, then sat with it held in one hand, staring incredulously at the messenger.
"Did he tell you what this says?" Her accent wasn't as thick as most of the Antivans he'd yet encountered, but her voice surprisingly dark and worn. Jowan just nodded. "Is it true, then? What he says in here?" Another nod, and she looked from the letter back to him, lips parting, eyes wide, a little spark of disturbing excitement lighting up in them. "And he expects us to do nothing?"
"In case he fails," Jowan explained. "He doesn't want the Antivan Wardens to be in any danger."
"Signor, there is not a man or woman in my command who harbors any love for the Crows. They did this to me," she gestured to the mask, "before I became a Warden. I had a bright future, Signor, bright as one can get for an elf in Antiva. And if what the letter says is true, Master Arainai is a Warden in spirit if not in blood. If the Crows make war with him, they make war with my Fereldan brother; they make war with all of us." Standing, she made her way around the desk and to the door, brushing past him, and Jowan felt a sort of giddy helplessness, like he was being swept up into something much larger than he'd intended. Isadora flung open the door and barked, "Jacopo!" A bulky human man, a shock of white hair falling across his brow amid otherwise stark black, turned from his game of cards with his fellow Wardens. "There will be Crow blood in the streets by twilight tomorrow—make sure we're there to spill some of it!"