Though he had been disappointed when the Grey Wardens told him they could offer little help, Varel did not allow that to deter him from the other task he had set himself. He might not know the secrets the Wardens had alluded to in such a cryptic fashion, nor did he have their specialized knowledge of darkspawn, but he understood human nature and human greed.

Rullens was supervising a line of new recruits as they clashed against another when Varel came back out into the cold, but it was clear he had been waiting for Varel, since he immediately turned over the exercise to a sergeant and approached with an anxious expression on his face. "Did you talk to the Wardens? What did they say?"

"They're very concerned about the talking - the matter we spoke of," Varel said, glancing around the busy inner courtyard. This was not a conversation he wanted anyone to overhear, and it would be easy to raise their voices in order to be heard above the noisy combat drill.

A look of relief passed over Rullens's features. "So they believed you? Good. I was afraid they'd pass it off as a story told by a madman."

Varel thought the captain's relief was premature, but it was not safe to say so where anyone could hear him. "They want to talk to Danella, question her for more details."

The captain nodded. "That makes sense, I suppose."

"Where is Danella now? Is she here or out on patrol?"

"Patrol. I'd have to check the roster to be sure, but I don't think she's due back for another two days."

Varel gestured at the barracks, where he knew the paperwork pertaining to the soldiers's tasks was held. "I'll need the logs or a copy of the logs, then. You did record her report?"

Rullens shot him an annoyed glance as they walked to the barracks. "Of course I did. Just because it made my hair stand on end and my skin crawl doesn't mean I'd neglect to write the incident down."

"I meant no offense, but you did mention a need for discretion, and anyone assigned to write the watch report could have seen it.

The captain seemed to grow less tense as he opened the door to the barracks for Varel. "Sorry, didn't mean to snap at you. The situation with the darkspawn has me on edge."

Varel waved the apology aside. "It has us all unsettled."

Rullens led him to the little room the officers and sergeants used for administrative tasks, like writing up patrol schedules and duty rosters. It was warm, and smelled of parchment. Instead of reaching for the thick ledger already on the desk, the captain pulled out another from a shelf and put it down, opening it in the light streaming from a high, narrow window.

"I wrote the report on the last page, which is why I wasn't worried about someone else seeing it." Rullens showed Varel the entry, then closed the ledger and handed it to him. "It's not much, but show this to them; maybe they can glean more from it, given their experience."

Varel tucked the heavy ledger under his arm, glanced around the room, and closed the door. Rullens raised a brow at seeing his caution. "They have more experience than we thought: they spoke of a darkspawn that talked, though they were circumspect about details. It was shock, I think, that made them reveal even that much."

Rullens looked disturbed at this news, and well he should. After Varel told the rest of what he knew, what little there was of it, he said, "I mislike this. If they've known of talking darkspawn for years, and now they have returned - or maybe they've always been here - where did they encounter -"

"We know too little, and the Grey Wardens are reluctant to reveal their secrets," Varel said, feeling once more his earlier frustration. "I pleaded for their assistance, and I even promised the help of a patrol. But Petrus was reticent to risk non-Wardens against the darkspawn."

The captain's brow furrowed. "Just him? He did not include Fiona? I thought she was a mage, with those robes and that staff. I suppose she could be a scholar, though I can't imagine why the Grey Wardens would recruit one."

"I don't understand it, myself, but nevermind that. I think, given time, I can persuade Petrus to go out with a patrol, as he seems a man of action, the sort who chafes when there is something he's duty bound to do."

"I know the type. Were he a younger man, I think he'd probably be out there already, tired from the journey or not." Rullens looked approving. "Good, we need the help, Maker knows, but we don't need more rash soldiers - we've got enough of our own without importing them."

"Fiona says she can teach us non-Wardens the practicalities of fighting darkspawn, should they stay still long enough to be fought, not just popping up to scare farmers out of their wits and disappearing again." Varel had a feeling that state of affairs would not last long.

"Now that would be welcome," the captain said. "I'll take some thought about how best to get that done and make the arrangements."

Varel fixed the other man with a stern look. "Make sure none of the soldiers offer her insult." For that matter, he had better ensure the Vigil's staff did the same.

"Maker, yes, I'd better do that. Right, you take the logs to the Wardens, and tell them I'll send Danella to them as soon as she returns. I'll go talk to the sergeants and make sure the troops understand."

Varel took the ledger back to his office, where the Grey Wardens were talking too quietly for him to overhear as they waited for him. They were disappointed to learn the scout they wanted to question was still out on patrol, but made a copy of the relevant entry in the logs to study.

"Captain Rullens will make the arrangements for you to speak to the soldiers, Fiona," Varel said. "And thank you for your offer. Few returned from the battle against the darkspawn horde in Denerim, and many of our soldiers are refugees who fled as they advanced north from the Korcari Wilds. What little we know about the creatures are from songs and tales."

The elf winced and waved his thanks aside. "You don't have to thank me. It's little enough." She rose from her chair, and brushed her robes and cloak straight. Neither of them had taken off their cloaks; perhaps northerners and elves felt the cold more keenly. "Come, Petrus, we've taken up enough of the seneschal's time; we should go and study this, either in my rooms or yours."

Petrus put up a hand. "A moment, Fiona." He turned to Varel. "I have not had much opportunity for proper weapons practice while on my journey. Given what you have told us of the dangers here, I've no mind to go out with my skills rusty from long travel. I was wondering if I could beg a space here to train."

"You are a guest of the Vigil, ser; you may do as you wish. I'm certain Armsmaster Sandis would have no objection. In fact, she might ask you to go a few rounds with her." That, Varel thought, would be a sight to see.

The Warden gave him a brisk nod. "I would be honored. It would also do me good to spar with your soldiers."

And so Petrus could judge for himself how capable the Vigil's soldiers were, the Warden did not say. A sensible enough course of action, as he would need to know the measure of the troops, should he choose to accompany them on patrol.

Lest the man be disappointed with the quality of the troops, Varel made haste to say, "Most of our soldiers were recruited from refugees who fled from the darkspawn, and they have had only a few months of training. I'm afraid they wouldn't be much of a challenge."

"Yes, I know," Petrus said. "Ser Cauthrien told us troops from Amaranthine defended Denerim when the armies were away. Very well, then, we will see you at supper. Perhaps tomorrow I might have the honor of crossing blades with you as well."

"The honor would be mine," Varel said, even as he wondered if he was fit or skilled enough to give a Grey Warden any difficulty at all.

He escorted the Grey Wardens back to their rooms, then went to return the logs to the barracks, and also to take the time to warn the armsmaster. Sandis would never forgive him if he didn't warn her a Grey Warden wanted to practice in the training fields.

To his surprise, the armsmaster's assistant told him she was not in the salle, but the armory. Varel went over to that long, low building, and found Sandis examining a sword in the light of the lanterns she had lit inside.

Sandis looked up at him and said without preamble, "We need a smith, Varel."

Varel sighed. "We need a great many things, Armsmaster, not the least of which is our new liege lady."

"Wait, what? Liege lady? You know who it is?"

He forgot he and Rullens were the only ones who knew, though the town criers would be spreading the news in a day or two. "I'm sorry, I've been so busy talking to the Grey Wardens that I forgot no one else knew yet. Warden-Commander Elethea Cousland will be our new arlessa."

Sandis's eyes widened. "Her! So she survived." Her lips stretched into a slow grin. "Well, well, won't that set the hound among the nobles."

"It will indeed."

The armsmaster frowned. "You know, she's going to want any soldiers who went to Highever turned out."

Varel realized she was right. "That did not even occur to me. Are you certain that's necessary? She won't know unless we tell her -"

Sandis stared at him. "Listen to yourself, Varel. This is a chance for us - all of us - to start over, and you want to begin with a lie?"

He rubbed his face, horrified that he could even think of concealing something from their new ruler. "I'm so used to hiding things from the late arl that it has become a bad habit."

"We all are," Sandis said with a sympathetic grimace. "And we're all going to have to break it."

"In any case, you're right, we cannot hide this, if only because she is bound to overhear the soldiers gossiping. Maker only knows what would happen if she recognized them. But I'm worried about losing some of our more experienced troops - we're shorthanded enough as it is."

The armsmaster shrugged her broad shoulders. "They might leave on their own once they hear the news, which would at least save us all the embarrassment. At least there aren't many of them left, after the battle in Denerim. As for how we'll replace them, we'll have to find and train up more refugees. Hate to admit it, but that was one of your better ideas."

Varel nodded. "They don't know the roads as well as a native of the arling, as I discovered when I sent out messengers to inform the nobles to gather here to hear Ser Cauthrien's news."

Sandis waved his concern aside. "Like fighting skills, that can be taught. Besides, you think a sheep farmer who's only ever been to the market in the nearest town knows every nook and cranny of Amaranthine?"

He opened his hand, conceding the point. "I'll tell Rullens to start recruiting again. But as for all the other things we need, I'm afraid we will not get them any time soon."

"Well, we'd better have a smith sooner rather than later, unless you fancy the thought of letting our soldiers get killed because their armor is falling apart. Right now, we've got men and women in mail shirts that're either too big or too small, shields with cracked rims, worn straps, bent buckles. There's only so much we can fix ourselves. You know as much as I that little things like that can mean life or death in a fight."

"I know, but for now, we will have to take those to a smith in the city," Varel said, glancing over at the empty forge. "We cannot afford to pay a resident smith right now - if we could even find one willing to come and work here."

Sandis scowled. "Well, now that we have a new liege lady, maybe you should ask her for help, even if she can't come here yet. I'm trying to find spares right now, see if we could replace the ones with damage that we can't fix. But sooner or later, we're going to run out."

Varel felt a deep reluctance to contact their liege lady, knowing it was both fear of her reaction and shame at what had been done to her family. If only the Crown had chosen someone else, anyone other than a Cousland. But Warden-Commander Elethea Cousland had been chosen, and he could do nothing but make the best of it.

"Set aside everything that we cannot repair ourselves; I would have to check our inventory to be sure, but I believe we have enough spares of everything. Have one of your assistants check what we have stored, too, to be sure they are all still sound."

Sandis raised her brows at him. "You're thinking of taking it all to the smiths in the city? How are you going to pay for that?"

Varel shook his head. "I don't know yet, but I may be able to persuade the Crown to release some funds, or ask the banker to extend a line of credit."

She looked dubious. "Easier to squeeze blood out of a rock than money out of a dwarf."

"That's my problem," Varel said, though he did not disagree with her assessment.

The armsmaster's expression lightened a little when he told her of Petrus's intention to use the training fields for practice. "Polite of him to ask first. You know, I would love to have a chance to spar with a Grey Warden. I've heard tales of their fighting prowess, and I've always wondered how much of it is true and how much is the fancy of the bards."

He had to chuckle at her enthusiasm. "You'll get your chance tomorrow."

Varel saw that Rullens was on his way back to the keep and took the opportunity to speak to him, glad he would have to leave the matter of the soldiers who had survived Highever to him.

The captain heaved a sigh once Varel had explained. "I must agree: they need to be sent away in deference to our new arlessa. I'll be sorry to see them go, if only because we won't have as many experienced soldiers left."

"It would be ill done of us to turn them out while it's still winter, and Wintersend is not that far off. Since the new Warden-Commander won't arrive until Justinian or so, they can stay for a few months. By then our new recruits will hopefully be better trained."

Rullens nodded. "Once spring arrives, they'll probably be snatched up by the nobles who lost their troops to the levies."

As he walked back to the keep, Varel thought of the other things the Vigil required: leather to repair saddles and tack, oil for the lamps and lanterns, and cloth. Aside from the very necessary repairs to weapons and armor, a smith also made nails, hinges, horseshoes, and needles; such items were small and often overlooked, but their absence was felt most keenly when needed. He looked at the walls and fortifications with a critical eye, and thought they needed a stonemason, too. The late arl had spent his funds on his treacherous schemes instead of the defenses of his own home, and it showed.

At least the villages and freeholds that looked to the Vigil for protection were still sending goods - food, mostly - but he wondered how long that would last. Besides, they could not provide everything.

Varel spent the rest of the afternoon in separate meetings with the captain, armsmaster, stablemaster, and the housekeeper, making lists of what they needed. It was his job to figure out how to pay for it all, but no matter how he juggled the numbers in the ledgers or moved the beads on the counting board, he could not come up with enough money. He was in a foul mood by the time Rullens came by to remind him it was time for supper.

The meal that evening was a trifle fancier than what Varel was used to, perhaps in honor of their guests: smoked venison roast, cut into medallions, covered in rich gravy; game meat was a luxury now, as the best season for hunting was now past. And instead of just plain bread to accompany the leek and mushroom soup, the loaves had bits of honey and dried apples baked into them. He detected the housekeeper's competent hand in these preparations, and hoped it would make Cauthrien more amenable to his request.

When Varel saw that Cauthrien had finished eating and was now lingering over her ale as she talked to her second, he caught her eye. "Ser, there is a matter I must bring to your attention." Beside him, Rullens paused with his tankard halfway to his lips.

She looked wary; since her lord had spent much time involved in the politics of the capital, she was perhaps right to be cautious. "What is it?"

"This is not something to be discussed here," he said, nodding at the soldiers and servants busy eating and moving around them. "Captain Rullens will also be joining us."

Her voice went flat. "I am the wrong person to curry favor with if you want to angle for a better position at the palace -"

"I assure you, it will be of great interest to you as the commander of Maric's Shield. It is, in part, a military matter."

Cauthrien's gaze sharpened at that; with a jerk of her chin, she stood, her two bodyguards and Rullens following suit. Feeling eyes upon him, Varel turned to see Fiona and Petrus watching them with interest from another table. Well, this was none of their affair; he was not obligated to inform them.

Once Cauthrien and Rullens were sitting in front of the fire in his office, mugs of tea in their hands, Varel said, "I discovered that a Tevinter ship is currently in Amaranthine, and it has been there for at least two months."

The knight tensed, an unhappy look passing across her face, as if reminded of something she misliked. "A Tevinter ship? Here? Is that usual?"

Varel glanced at Rullens, but the captain gestured for him to continue, content to let him speak for them both. "No, it is not, though they are a more common sight the further north you sail. There is little here that would interest them, and there is nothing we export that they cannot buy closer to home. Or so I thought."

Cauthrien seemed unwilling to press him for further details, but made an effort to say, "What have you found?"

"They have abducted a few dozen folk, elves and refugees, who are being kept in a small group of warehouses near the docks."

She looked ill. "For what purpose?" she said, but something in her eyes told Varel she already knew the answer.

Varel looked her in the eye. "I suspect they will be sold as slaves. And there are enough lurid tales of the fates of slaves in the Imperium that I think they need not be repeated here."

Cauthrien twitched; Varel noted the tiny motion with interest. "Well? What is it you think I can do about it?" she said, her tone almost belligerent.

"Now, if I were to go to Bann Esmerelle and demand their release and reparations for seeing them back to their homes, the odds are good that I will be found floating in the sea before nightfall - if I were found at all. But if the commander of Maric's Shield, with the full authority of the Crown behind her, were to ask some hard questions, perhaps even take action..."

Her lips quirked. "Hm. I may have that authority, but I still must answer to the Crown. I take it you have incontrovertible proof? And how certain are you of this information? Did you see them with your own eyes?"

"No, but I do have this." Varel handed her the heavy ledger and the hidden note he had stolen from the harbormaster's office.

He had pored over the ledger until his eyes burned to find the entries, hidden amongst the more innocuous numbers for shipments of grain and leather and wool. Someone had tallied people as if they were of no more consequence than crates of cargo. Perhaps they had not known. Or perhaps they had not cared.

Cauthrien raised a brow when she saw the seal of the City of Amaranthine embossed on the leather cover. "Does the bann know you have one of her ledgers?"

Varel's lips twitched. "I... may have neglected to inform her."

Rullens rolled his eyes. "His memory can be amazingly selective at times. And yet no one really minds - well, except the nobles." He subsided with a wry grin when Varel gave him a dry look.

Cauthrien still had not touched either the note or the ledger in a show of reluctance that seemed out of character for her, which intrigued Varel. "Should I ask how you obtained these?"

Varel gave her his most bland smile and said only, "This note was hidden in here." He pointed at the clever slit in the ledger's binding.

She finally took the note and unfolded it, and frowned. "Wait, I recognize this seal. And this handwriting."

Varel's brows rose. "Oh?" Beside him, Rullens sat straighter.

Cauthrien set her mug of tea aside and went to Varel's desk, peering at the note as she held it to the light of the lamp. "Yes. I'd need to return to Denerim and compare to be sure, but I would swear these were written by the same Tevinters who kidnapped elves from the Denerim alienage under the guise of healers."

"What!" Varel said. Rullens made an equally surprised noise.

"I am not surprised you haven't heard anything, even in rumors," Cauthrien said as she put the note down on Varel's desk with care, as though forcing herself not to crumple it. "Events moved very quickly after the discovery, and then, of course, the darkspawn horde assaulted Denerim."

"How do you know they are the same?" Rullens said.

To Varel's surprise, she reddened. "I learned how to read late in life, but I remember the seal because it was a particularly gruesome one: a dragon devouring a child. This handwriting is also distinctive - see how spiky it looks?"

"So the warehouse in Amaranthine is their bolt-hole, perhaps," Varel said. "Or a combination of a bolt-hole and a second base where they could go out and find more 'merchandise'."

"We wondered how they were planning to transport them back to their homeland, but we found nothing. The Grey Wardens left none of the Tevinters alive for questioning, and any survivors no doubt deserted after their leader was killed. Though given how... thorough the Wardens were, I think it's unlikely any did manage to escape." Cauthrien grimaced, but at what, Varel could not say. "There was no time to investigate further, as the Landsmeet was called soon after, and then we had to prepare the army for the march to Redcliffe."

"I'm surprised they have not yet left, given the absence of the slavers and what must be a baffling lack of communication." Varel paused. "Then again, the winter storms can be quite ferocious. Perhaps they plan to overwinter here."

"The leader may also have been the commander of the entire expedition; the Grey Wardens said he was a mage, and the Tevinters always seem to put mages into leadership positions. Or they split themselves into two groups that could operate independently. That would make it harder to track their activities." Cauthrien scowled of a sudden. "If there has not been a constant watch kept on the Tevinter ship, then they might be taking them somewhere else."

"They have more space than they need, much more than the complement one ship can carry. I'm certain they are being held in those warehouses," Varel said. "We cannot rule out the possibility of yet another bolt-hole, of course."

"The Tevinters are trading in flesh far from their homeland - they'd be fools to be careless," Rullens said.

"Still, they haven't been caught in the two months they've been here, and it's possible they don't know what's happened to the group in Denerim," Cauthrien said, looking thoughtful. "You know how soldiers are - they can't maintain a state of high alertness for long. Perhaps they have relaxed their guard enough to be sloppy."

That sounded encouraging. "Have you decided to investigate, then?" Varel said.

Cauthrien picked up the note again and held it up as if it were something she had found squashed beneath her boot. "I must, to redeem Lord Loghain's honor."

Varel was confused, and, by his expression, so was Rullens. "What does Teyrn Loghain have to do with any of this?"

The knight hesitated, then squared her shoulders, as if about to face an unpleasant but necessary task. "I might as well tell you, before you hear wild rumors or unsubstantiated stories. The Warden-Commander may tell you what happened, as well." She smiled, and it was bitter. "But every story has two sides, and Lord Loghain is no longer alive to tell his."

"You need not tell us -" Varel began to say.

Cauthrien shook her head and held up her hand, interrupting him. "No, I must, because Lord Loghain is the one who allowed these Tevinters to operate in Ferelden in the first place."

Varel was shocked speechless. "Teyrn Loghain did this?" he said in disbelief. "The man who first formed the Night Elves? Why?"

Cauthrien was startled. "You know about the Night Elves? Many have forgotten the role they played during the rebellion."

"I was just a boy when I joined the rebellion, but I helped fletch and carry arrows for them," Varel said, remembering those grim men and women who had risked their lives to strike terror by night into the hearts of the Orlesians and their Fereldan collaborators. He had never looked at elves the same way after that.

"I don't understand - why would Teyrn Loghain even tolerate this?" Rullens said.

"He expected to rule as regent after King Cailan died at Ostagar, but when Bann Teagan rallied the Bannorn in opposition, he needed money to raise more troops. The Tevinters offered him chests of gold in exchange for his turning a blind eye." Cauthrien's hands clenched hard enough to turn her knuckles white. "If he had refused, if he had hanged them at once as they deserved, this never would have happened."

Varel was aghast and appalled at how far the Hero of River Dane would go. "He allowed expediency to rule him instead of honor."

"Yes. As he redeemed himself slaying the archdemon, as his second, it falls to me to redeem his honor, as he is no longer alive to do so himself," Cauthrien said.

Caught between relief that Cauthrien agreed something must be done about the slavers and horror at a great hero's fall from grace, Varel was struck silent for several heartbeats. He saw the pain in the knight's eyes and said, "You blame yourself for his misdeeds?"

The knight's gaze turned inward, as if she were looking at memories of those misdeeds. "I was his second." I should have been able to do something - anything, hung in the air, unsaid.

"You had to follow orders," Rullens said, and Varel knew he was thinking of how he had been forced to follow the late arl's orders. Like Lowan, he, too, had family that had been in the arl's reach. "You had no choice."

"Yes." Cauthrien shook herself out of her reverie. "Still, honor demands I do my best to cleanse his honor - and my own. This would be a worthy start."

"Not that we wouldn't appreciate your help, but are you certain the Crown will condone your actions, noble as they are?" Rullens said, turning the conversation to a more pragmatic subject, as was his wont. "Some might say you overstep your authority."

"For once I'm not worried about that," the knight said as she sat back down and took her mug of tea back, though the contents had grown cold. "King Alistair faced those slavers in Denerim personally, and Queen Anora would be as eager as I am to rectify her father's mistakes. I'm more worried about facing an unknown number of Tevinters with only my escort."

Varel inclined his head in lieu of a bow. "We are at your service, Ser Cauthrien."

Cauthrien drained the rest of her tea and set it aside. "That evens the odds, but there's a chance they might have a mage or two. They may even be maleficar, like the leader of the group the Grey Wardens faced in Denerim."

"Blood magic!" Varel had not thought of that, though he should have, and felt deeply unsettled.

"I wonder if the Grey Wardens from Weisshaupt would be willing to help?" Rullens said. "Fiona hasn't come right out and said or done anything, but I think she is a mage. The robes and the staff give her away."

Cauthrien looked dubious. "They're supposed to stay neutral, saving their energies for darkspawn. Besides, they're guests of the Crown. I don't think King Alistair would appreciate it if we got his fellow Grey Wardens killed."

"There are templars assigned to the Chantry of Our Lady Redeemer in Amaranthine," Varel said. "They would be just as appalled by the presence of Tevinter slavers in the city as we are, and they are trained to fight mages. Perhaps we can convince them to help us."

"A good idea, but I mislike encouraging the Chantry to interfere in a strictly internal matter," the knight said. "It may set a bad precedent, and neither the Crown nor the Grey Wardens would thank me for it. I want to send for the mages assigned to the army, but we need them right where they are."

"We'll have to rely on the shock of a surprise attack to carry us through, then," Rullens said, though he was not entirely happy with this plan, to judge from his wince.

Cauthrien said, "We need a distraction. Several, ideally."

"You and I must talk to the boatfolk, Ser Cauthrien," Varel said. "They would be a great asset to our plans."

The knight looked bemused at the seeming change in subject. "Who?"

"I am thinking of the night soil collectors," Varel said, going to his desk and pulling out a map of the city. The others came to look over his shoulder as he unrolled. "Unlike the other areas, they collect from the warehouses during the day, because the merchants who usually rent them fear thieves may sneak in at night."

Cauthrien's face cleared as she caught on. "And no one pays any attention to them; the same cannot be said of us."

"Exactly, ser," Varel said, pleased she had seen the advantage at once.

Rullens sighed. "At least the cold will keep the stink down. It's a small price to pay for having the advantage of surprise."

"That will do for the ones on land, but... Has a watch been posted on the Tevinter ship?" Cauthrien said as she stared down at the map.

Varel shook his head. "No. My sources must keep close to the city and port, and it is difficult to see anything at night."

"We must capture that ship somehow," Cauthrien said. "We can't allow it to gather reinforcements or return to Tevinter; Ferelden has more than enough troubles of its own without a foreign nation kicking up a diplomatic fuss."

"Surely the Tevinter Imperium is too preoccupied with the qunari to worry about what's happening so far away?" Rullens said.

"I don't want to risk it," she said. "Though I'm not sure how we can capture it when we don't even have a ship of our own."

Varel's eyes roved over the map as he sought inspiration, then fell on the square symbol for the bann's palace in Amaranthine. "It occurs to me that we can involve Bann Esmerelle in this. Or at least for this part of the plan."

Rullens stared at him. "Are you mad? How can you be sure she won't inform them immediately, the moment our backs are turned? They couldn't have stayed in the city this long without her knowledge."

"We can play on her well-known greed," was Varel's suggestion. "We need to capture their ship, and if we give it to her on condition of having her troops reinforce us..." Ships were expensive things, and getting one almost for free might mellow the bann enough to pay reparations to the slaves. She might still scream, of course.

"Andraste's pyre, you're right!" Rullens nodded approval of this plan. "But I still fear alerting the Tevinters if we go treat with the bann."

"We'll secure the warehouses first, then tell the bann if we must. I've learned it's easier - and faster - to beg forgiveness than permission," Cauthrien said with the air of someone who spoke from experience.

Varel could not help but grin. "She is going to be furious."

"She's going to shit herself sideways, you mean," Rullens said with a malicious smile of his own.

Cauthrien shrugged with supreme indifference. "She won't have a leg to stand on once this gets out."

They made some preliminary plans over more tea and pastries, but the finer details needed to wait until Varel could get Cauthrien and Rullens together with Ker and Ulla.

"If our troops are to be at all effective in supporting your soldiers, we need to start training them together, and the Grey Wardens are bound to notice that," Rullens said. "I get the feeling that Petrus fellow doesn't miss much."

"Yes, it would look suspicious, especially when I told them I would be returning to Denerim right after I make the announcement to the nobles," the knight said. "All we can do is tell them the truth if they ask, and tell them to be discreet."

"We certainly cannot afford the ill-feeling if they find out we lied to them," Varel said.

"Indeed." Cauthrien glanced down at the notes she had written. "If there's nothing more, I need to discuss our plans with my second, and you need to send a courier tomorrow to Denerim so that the Crown knows of the change in plans."

They shook their heads; she excused herself, leaving the men alone.

Rullens's lips quirked into a mischievous smile. "Varel, you seem to have overlooked just one thing in all these plans of yours."

"What?"

The captain's smile broadened into a grin. "You'll have to ride."

Varel opened his mouth, then closed it. "Oh. Bugger."