The Keening Blade
Chapter 21: Things Are the Way They Are
She was blooming, golden, lovely: she was the best of her mother Celia, the bride of his youth. She gave a nod to that infernal Orlesian maid of hers, who bowed and slipped discreetly out of sight, leaving the two of them alone.
"Oh, Father!" Anora put out her arms to him, and he held her, feeling the swelling promise of her belly. "I'm so very, very happy! Wynne says everything is going just as it should. I am going to be a mother in four months' time! I pretended that it didn't matter, and that I didn't care, but it does, and I do!"
"And you're feeling well? You're not simply being brave?"
She laughed at him then, silver on crystal. "You missed my awful morning-sickness, and lucky for you! I'm much better now. I can even feel the child move sometimes. Alistair is so thrilled. He's always longed for a family, and now he shall have one."
Drawing him over to a settee by the window, she had him sit with her, her hands in his. Late afternoon sun lit her hair into a glory. Loghain smiled, happy to simply be there with his daughter.
"And how is Maude? Is she well? Of course she is," Anora laughed wryly. "She is never ill. And you too, Father. You really do look younger. I trust you are pleased in your marriage?"
She looked up him, teasing and quizzical. Loghain squeezed her hand. "Yes. Very pleased. Sometimes bemused by the ironies of life, but grateful for the gifts Fate bestows unlooked for and unasked."
Anora looked out the window, smiling at some thought of her own. "I know exactly what you mean."
There was much to talk over. They began with Anora's doings.
There was the child and the newly refurbished nursery: there was the rebuilding of Denerim. Reconstruction had continued, and the new Denerim would be better than the old. To his surprise, he found that no one had been granted the Arling of Denerim.
Anora was looking at him, beautiful blue eyes wide. It was the expression she used when she was going to try to talk him round.
"After all I went through, first with the Kendalls, and then with Rendon Howe, it occurred to me that the best way to strengthen the Crown was for it to have more direct power. At the next Landsmeet, I am—I mean, Alistair and I—well…we are going to take the Arling for the Crown. The King of Ferelden will also be Teyrn of Denerim. Denerim was Calenhad's teyrnir historically, after all. I think—we think- that it would much improve royal authority in the capital. It was so hard to accomplish anything in Denerim. Don't say anything about it yet—except to Maude. I hope she will exert her influence on her brother to support me. Us."
"You've already kept Gwaren. The Landsmeet won't be pleased."
She narrowed her eyes. "Gwaren is mine! It is the Mac Tir fiefdom! Alistair and I may have more children than this one. We must consider their futures!"
"I am not saying I don't agree with you. I simply think it will be difficult to get the Landsmeet's support. Though I believe you have a better chance now than later. When you announce the upcoming birth of an heir, there will be a groundswell of good will for you. Your greatest opposition will be from Eamon, I expect."
She nodded, her hand laid protectively on her belly. "You're right, of course. He's been very difficult in the past few months: Alistair made him Chancellor, so Eamon remained in Denerim and is constantly at him, trying to talk him into things. He wants Denerim for his brother. Alistair likes Teagan, and I can understand that, but in due course Teagan will be Arl of Redcliffe."
"The sooner the better," Loghain agreed, grimacing. His thoughts slid to Maude. She certainly disliked Eamon as much as he and Anora did. Perhaps something really needed to be done, and before the next Landsmeet…
"As to Eamon..." he began. "Well…let me start at the beginning. Maude and I went south to scout the source of the Blight. We've had a great many adventures over the past few months..."
He had to tell her something of the Blighted state of southern Ferelden, about which she already had reports. That what remained of Lothering had been burned, she had learned, but had not known who had put the tainted village to the torch. She nodded. Word had spread of the need for fire to cleanse what the darkspawn had polluted.
"We went all over the ruins of Ostagar," Loghain told her "There were not many darkspawn, but a number of surprises. We…" He paused, realizing that he was hardened to this, but she was not. He must put this in the least painful way. "We found Cailan's remains, and gave them an honorable pyre. Maude put some of the ashes in an urn for you." Her tea jar was not exactly an urn, but it was a very pretty little jar, and Anora did not need to know that Maude had kept Highever Honeygrass in it. "We also retrieved his armor, and brought it back with us."
Her eyes glittered with tears she was too proud to shed. "That was most kind, Father. It means a great deal to me."
She was about to say more, and Loghain feared she would wax sentimental over the self-important fool who had plotted to cast her aside. He did not want to tell her about the letters from Celene, which now meant less than nothing. Eamon, however, was another matter…
Brusquely, he added, "We also retrieved the chest that held his personal correspondence. There were letters from Eamon, urging Cailan to find a new wife. Nothing in their tone or content made me think better of the Arl of Redcliffe."
Anora considered that, golden head drooping in thought. "Of course I always knew that Eamon disapproved of me. Even being born the daughter of a teyrn could not disguise the odor of my low origins to one such as he!" Her smile was tight and bitter. "When he was informed that I was with child, you should have seen his face! There was the briefest expression of shock and…disappointment, and then it froze—absolutely froze! Then, of course, he smiled and said all the proper things. Arlessa Isolde fared even more poorly. However," she leaned over to speak softly, "I have received intelligence that the Arlessa is trying hard for another child."
Loghain snorted. "With someone." He had always had suspicions about the Arlessa and Teagan. "If the son had not proved to be a mage, I have no doubt that Eamon would have put him forward rather than Alistair."
Anora shrugged. "Well, that is all water under the bridge, as they say."
Loghain had decided to conceal the existence of both Honnleath and Haven, and skipped to what might interest her more, anyway. "We visited Orzammar, too, and the King was very civil. He asked for favors, and we went into the Deep Roads, just as he asked, so Ferelden is in very good odor with the dwarven kingdom right now. And I bought a present for you there, too. You'll get it at dinner."
She kissed his cheek. "I sounds like your travels were very productive indeed, Father. And now," she said, with more mischief than he had seen in her in many, many years, "I must ask you if you have already read the correspondence waiting for you in the Warden Compound?"
"Not yet. I wanted to see you first."
Anora's eyes sparkled. "Before he left, Warden Kristoff told me of a letter sent to the Grey Wardens of Ferelden by the First Warden in Weisshaupt. In it, the First Warden names Loghain Mac Tir, the slayer of the Archdemon Urthemiel, Warden-Commander of the Grey in Ferelden!"
Loghain shook his head, amused by the irony of it all. So he was to command the Wardens? Good. He could command the Orlesians right back to Orlais. He sat back thinking it over, already conceiving plans for Warden recruiting, and Warden training, and Warden operations… Some ideas had already crossed his mind, and now he would have a free hand.
Then he frowned. What would Maude think? All she had done, all she had borne to uphold the Wardens, to enforce the ancient treaties, to dare all the powers of Ferelden to save her country: all of it, it seemed, was forgotten by Weisshaupt. She might be very hurt by this. He should break it to her gently…
"Maker's Breath!" he swore. Anora looked surprised.
"I thought you'd be pleased, Father!"
"I am, but I would have preferred to tell Maude in my own way. I sent her off to go through the correspondence. She's probably reading about my appointment right now."
Anora tried to be reassuring. "She will surely see that you are the best possible choice. While she is a splendid warrior and a very accomplished diplomat, she has nothing like your experience as the commander of an army."
"I am the best choice," he agreed. "That doesn't mean she'll like it. What did Alistair say when he found out?"
She tried too hard to be nonchalant. "I am certain that he will be reconciled to it…in time."
"That bad?"
"Oh, yes. Yes, indeed."
He touched her cheek, with a half-smile, and rose.
"I had better have a look at the letter, and sort things out with Maude. This appointment changes the situation entirely. We were told the Orlesian Wardens went to Amaranthine at Delilah Howe's request."
"Yes. Three weeks ago. Some of the horde fled north after the death of the Archdemon and there have been many darkspawn attacks. Amaranthine is famous for its mines. They may have hidden in such places. The Wardens had dealt with most of the known threats in the Bannorn and around Denerim. This is new, and appears to be more serious."
Loghain frowned. "Then I had best go there myself. I'll read through the correspondence, and then I'll see you at dinner." He kissed the top of her head. "With your present."
Maude was not in the Wardens' study. She was not in their bedchamber. Loghain wondered if she gone to complain to Morrigan, and then took a look in Maude's old room instead.
Ranger looked up at him, and panted solemnly from the floor where he was lying next to Maude. She was on the floor, too, eyes shut, her head resting lightly against the carved chest that Fergus had sent her from Highever House. Draped over her was a magnificent fur cloak. Maude rubbed her cheek against the softness of it.
"It still smells like my mother," she murmured. "Rose and blood lotus."
He paused, and then, urged by Ranger's mute appeal, sat down on the floor behind her, and wrapped her in his arms.
"Did you look at the letters?"
"I did. Heaps of interesting things there. The maids had to come in and tell me all the gossip, too. So, you get to be Warden-Commander. Such fun for you. And Anora gets to have a baby. All in all, I say that counts as a big win for the Mac Tirs."
"Are you very disappointed?"
"About which of those things?" she asked dreamily, humming as her fingers wandered over the cloak. "I really don't think I want to talk about my feelings at the moment. It's all rather like being in one of those Orzammar lifts, or looking down from a precipice. Obviously, it's absolutely spiffing for Ferelden to have an heir, and you'll be a splendid Warden-Commander. Awfully glad I heard about both those things before a lot of people saw me. Gives me time to assemble my face a bit, don't you know?"
He held her a little closer, resisting the possibility that she might be drifting away. "It could be worse," he said. "The First Warden could have made one of the Orlesians Warden-Commander. Or he could send someone completely unknown to us who was even worse than the lot we've got. This gives us a completely free hand at Soldier's Peak."
A noncommittal little noise. He laid his cheek against hers. For such a fierce creature, she was entrancingly soft in places. He said, "Anora has waited so long for a child. You aren't jealous of her, are you?"
"Of course I am," she hissed. She relaxed, and went on in her odd dreamy voice. "That doesn't mean I don't see the baby as a good thing. It's a good thing for Ferelden, and a good thing for Alistair and Anora as a couple, and definitely a good thing for each of them individually. Alistair will make a complete ass of himself over his child. That should be very diverting."
"I had no idea you wanted a child." He really had not. It simply had not occurred to him. He already had a grown daughter, who herself would soon be a mother. Grey Wardens could not have children together, as he had learned months before. Maude had had quite a bit of time to get used to the idea.
Except she plainly had not reconciled herself to it, and was very, very unhappy about it. It was useless to brood over impossibilities. He would have to distract her.
She distracted him first. "Such a lot of letters. Fergus is frightfully busy in Highever. Leliana wrote, and so did Riordan. They're disgustingly happy, and Jader is lovely, and Leliana has bought heaps of posh shoes. Apparently, the Orlesians replied to my begging letter and sent wagons of gear and a bit of money to the Compound here. Our own Orlesians took the money chest with them when they went north, worse luck. Kristoff left a note about it. I have to inventory the rest. We'll see if it's worth anything. We got supplies from the Antivans—including some wine. No money though, but wine is nice. Some money from the Ostwick Wardens, and extra money from my cousin the Teyrn along with a very nice letter. Kristoff took that too—I mean the money, not the letter-the wretch. No word from Nevarra or the rest of the Free Marches except for Kirkwall. The Viscount tendered his appreciation for killing the Archdemon, but otherwise feels he's doing quite enough, putting up with our refugees. Fergus says Highever needs labor. Remind me to say something to Anora about sending a ship to Kirkwall…"
She was chattering now, the pace just on the edge of hysteria. Loghain tried to slow her down. "I told Anora I'd give her her present at dinner. I suppose I should have brought something back for Chantry Boy…"
"Don't worry. I bought something for Alistair in Orzammar. He's going to love it."
"Good thinking." He dropped gentle kisses along the side of her long and lovely neck, then nuzzled the place where her neck joined her bare shoulder. He did like these old-fashioned dresses.
Ranger whined anxiously, and paced back and forth. Loghain scratched the floppy little ears.
"It's all right," he assured the dog, and realized he was trying to reassure himself.
On an armor stand in the corner was displayed a magnificent sent of Archdemon armor, just Maude's size. Purplish-black, like his own, and flourished with even more silverite.
"That's amazing," he remarked.
She shrugged and stood up. Folding the fur cloak carefully, she put it back in the chest, and closed the lid without a sound.
He took her hand. "We're going north the day after tomorrow to check on those Orlesian imbeciles, so we'll have a great deal to do. For the moment, though, all we have to face is dinner."
She gave him a hurt little smile that wrung his heart.
"Allow me, then, some time to put on a face I need not be ashamed of."
He put an arm around her, as they went into the room they shared. Sitting on the bed, he watched her use an array of brushes in her most painstaking manner: painting her face and arranging her hair. She twisted her braid into a knot at the back of her head, and held it in place with eight gold hairpins, each menacingly sharp. The head of each pin was a different insect: a gold bee, a gold butterfly, a gold beetle,a gold dragonfly… They must be more heirlooms from her mother, but Loghain did not recall having seen them before. He had no doubt that in a pinch Maude could use them as deadly weapons.
"At least you haven't insisted on having your own lady's maid," he grunted.
Maude made a face. "You're thinking of Erlina, I take it? If I want to hire a bard to spy on me, she'd have to play an instrument really well, at the very least."
Loghain managed a half smile. "Anora has never agreed that that girl is a spy. Insists that's she perfectly loyal, even though Celene sent her out along with the rest of the wedding presents. More likely, it's because Anora likes the way she does her hair."
"Well," Maude nodded sagely, looking into the expensive Tevinter-made mirror, regarding her own hair with dissatisfaction, "that is definitely a mitigating factor. No one understands my hair like Leliana, for that matter. Not that I think Erlina is any danger to Anora. She might have been at one time, but that ended when Cailan died, I think."
Loghain was fascinated, and felt keeping her talking would be the best thing for her spirits. It did Maude a great deal of good to feel cleverer than everyone else. "Another conspiracy theory? Out with it!"
"Well…" Maude's eyes gleamed, and she lowered her voice to a velvety purr. "So Erlina is sent out when Anora is first married… It's perfectly obvious that she would be reporting back to Celene. At some point, however—possibly after Ostagar, and possibly even before—she realized that she was far better off as Anora's trusted handmaiden and confidante than she would ever be as an Orlesian agent. How could Celene reward her? Would she reward her? Or would she simply be eliminated when she knew too much? At best, if the attempt to supplant Anora had succeeded, Erlina would have been recalled to Orlais, and probably sent out on a new mission, which might well include sucking the limp dick of a fat Nevarran guildmaster."
"Maude!"
"Well, it very well could. No comfortable retirement for an Orlesian agent, I expect. Especially an elven agent. Not like working for a lovely and well-mannered Queen, who treats her like a human being, provides her with comfortable lodgings and good food in the palace, protects her from unwanted attention, honors her with her trust, and relies on her taste in hair and dress. Knowing Anora, Erlina will never be turned out, no matter what. She's probably mentioned in the Queen's will. If Erlina were human, she might hope for more, but she's not. I think Celene outsmarted herself, or she underestimated Anora's appeal. I believe Erlina is quite loyal now, and knows when she's well off. She's not likely to foul her own nest at this point."
To his surprise, Maude dressed in the elaborate scarlet gown she had worn to Anora's wedding.
"I must not look pitiful," she told Loghain calmly. She even laced up her red velvet boots, the Court's scandal and delight, complete with daggers and all. It was a brave display, but she was a brave girl, after all.
It was a large dinner, with many in attendance. As the honored guests, and as father and step-mother of the Queen, Loghain and Maude sat at the Royal Table, Loghain at his daughter's left and Maude to Alistair's right. Just as well. Not only did he and Alistair not have to look at each other, they had every excuse not to speak to each other. Loghain was more interested in Anora's conversation, anyway.
The other tables extended down, perpendicular to the King's. Eamon, as Chancellor, presided over the right-hand table, with his wife Isolde. Morrigan and Anders were placed high on the left-hand table, where the other Wardens sat on state occasions. Wynne sat next to Anders, which was amusing to watch. Of course, he could hear nearly everything that Alistair and Maude said to one another. And of course, Alistair absolutely had to whisper to Maude that he thought she should have been named Warden-Commander, rather than Loghain.
She whispered back, her voice throaty with persuasion. "It was the First Warden's decision, Alistair. It is what it is." That topic of conversation was thoroughly closed.
After a moment, Alistair tried something else. "I just realized," he said to Maude, in that tone that signaled he was about to say something he thought very witty. "You're going to be a grandmother. 'Grandmother Maude.' It has a ring to it, don't you think?"
Anora smiled faintly. Loghain leaned back to get a look at Maude's face.
She smiled brilliantly. She had spent sufficient time on her hair and face to appear remarkably merry and relaxed. "I entirely agree. 'Grandmother Maude' sounds gorgeous. So lucky for your child, too. I plan on being an exemplary grandparent. I promise an inexhaustible supply of cookies and kisses. What more could one ask? Of course, I shall also do my part to educate the young Prince or Princess. I have all sorts of talents and skills to share." She saw Loghain watching, and gave him a wink. "Where shall I begin? Lute-playing or Darkspawn-slaying? How about lockpicking?"
Alistair groaned. Maude laughed at him. "Or treasure-hunting? It's one way to fill the royal coffers…"
"Speaking of treasure," Loghain said to Anora, rather hastily, "I promised you a present. I found these in Orzammar."
After some earnest polishing the night before, the bracers were even more magnificent.
"How beautiful! What unusual designs! Thank you, Father: they're lovely."
Maude smirked. "And the King was not forgotten. I bought this for your collection, Alistair." She plunked down a heavy object in front of him, wrapped in black silk. Alistair brightened noticeably, and whisked the silk away.
"Wow…Wow! That's just…wow! You always give the best presents, Maude."
Anora stared. "Alistair…is that…?"
"An ogre!" He grinned.
"It completes your collection," Maude said proudly. "Hero, Princess, Demon, Dragon, and now Darkspawn."
Loghain thought it must have cost quite a bit, for something so hideous. Obsidian and amethyst and silver, the little ogre had been fashioned in some bizarre way that allowed the horned head to bob up and down, giving it an oddly life-like appearance. Anora blinked, rather glassy-eyed.
Alistair admired it exactly as if the ghastly object was wonderful. "Thanks, Maude. It's…wow… I'd better put my figurines up high so the baby won't break them, I suppose."
Dolls. The realization stunned Loghain like a blow from an icy Fist of Doom. My son-in-law is a doll collector…
Still, Anora was pregnant. Anora was going to have a baby in four months time. Really and truly. A royal heir for Ferelden at last. Loghain smiled whenever he remembered it, and endeavored manfully to put aside the horror of doll-collecting Chantry Boys. To make up for the deficiencies of such a father, Loghain had, as soon as he was dressed the following morning, begun making notes for a comprehensive educational syllabus for the new prince or princess. They'd thank him for it some day.
They had found out, at dinner last night, that the King and Queen had chosen a name—apparently not without a quiet little war between them. Chantry Boy wanted Duncan, and wanted it pretty much whether the child was a boy or a girl. Anora had pointed out that as the individual actually carrying said child in her body, eventually to expel it in the course of several hours of blood and pain, she had final say about the name, and Duncan was not in the cards. She thought Gareth a generous compromise, since she really preferred Loghain. Loghain himself was enchanted at the idea that his grandson would bear the name of his own beloved father.
"I have to agree," said Maude, as she finished braiding her hair. "Gareth is lovely. I think Duncan for a girl is pretty grim, though it's a nice name for a boy. King Duncan doesn't sound bad to me, though perhaps it's a name of ill omen. Gareth will do nicely." She muttered to herself, "And it might still be a girl. There's absolutely nothing wrong with the baby being a girl. Nobody seems to consider that seriously. Anyway…" she smiled at him and looked over his shoulder as he wrote. "How is the Garethopedia coming? Will it include charts, maps, and pertinent illustrations?"
"Laugh if you will," Loghain growled. He gave her a sharp little glance, wondering if she was simply teasing him, or if this was jealousy manifesting itself again. "This child will have a proper education. And maps are vital to a monarch's comprehension of the world."
"I'm not laughing at the idea," Maude shook her head. "I am smiling fondly at your devotion to our yet unborn and gender-neutral grandbaby. It's very touching. Very sweet."
"I am not sweet."
"Wrong again, Dragonslayer." She prowled up behind him, pressing close, smelling of sweet herbs. She nuzzled at the back of his neck, and then licked at him delicately. "Very sweet," she murmured huskily, her lips traveling up to nibble at his ear...
Well, that completely took his mind off his writing. His quill snapped in his hands. They adjourned for a pleasant interlude in the large and curtained bed. It was a relief that however displeased she was with her situation in the new Ferelden, she was not blaming him personally. Perhaps she bit him a little harder than usual...but it was all good, all very nice indeed, and they lay entangled and sweaty in the afterglow. Maude traced the line of his jaw with a fingertip. "Loghain..." They were at peace, silent but for their heartbeats. If only the world would leave them alone.
"I've been asked to attend the Council meeting today," Loghain told Maude, hoping she would take it well.
"And I am not invited, I take it?" She rose up on an elbow, and looked at him sharply. He sighed. She was not taking it well. She was bitterly offended, in fact. He could hardly blame her, but the situation was what it was. She abruptly got out of bed, and slipped into her smallclothes.
Loghain told her the truth. "Eamon, as Chancellor, arranges the attendees and agenda for the Council. Most of the nobility is out in the country right now, rebuilding their estates. Today, it will be only the King and Queen, with Eamon and the Grand Cleric. Kylon, the Captain of the City Guard will make a report, as will the foreman of the dwarven masons. I'm to tell them about what I saw in Southern Ferelden and in Orzammar."
He saw her take a deep breath, and forestalled her. "Yes, I remember about the refugees in Kirkwall. I will suggest that ships be sent and the refugees be conveyed to the nearest suitable port, which is the city of Highever. I'll take your brother's letter with me, if you don't mind."
"What else are they going to talk about?"
She might as well know now. Loghain said, "The King and Queen do not want to appoint a new Arl of Denerim, but instead plan to incorporate the arling into the royal holdings. The King and Queen would be teyrn and teyrna of Denerim. Eamon will oppose them, since he wants the arling for his brother. Anora is hoping that you will convince your brother to support her at the Landsmeet."
"I might. If Eamon is going to slight me like this, I wouldn't mind giving him trouble." Maude was thinking it over. "On the other hand, I'm not sure Fergus will like the idea of increasing the Crown's power. More power for the Crown means less for the nobles. What does Fergus have to gain by such a concession?"
"Denerim will be far better run by Anora…and Alistair," he added reluctantly.
"Perhaps so," Maude said, her voice musical with sweet reason, "but what has Fergus to gain by such a concession—especially in the long run? I think Anora needs to present some pretty good arguments, or allow greater latitude or tax relief to the nobility."
He watched her carefully. Her cheerful insouciance seemed deliberately assumed, and a little defiant. "If Anora or Alistair had insisted you be invited to the Council," Loghain asked grimly, "would you have viewed the idea more favorably?"
Maude smiled beatifically. "That's entirely possible, but we'll never know now, will we? Anyway, if we're really leaving tomorrow, I have heaps to do."
With her list, Maude would make the rounds of their artisans and craftsmen, checking on the progress of their commissions, with an eye to their plans for Soldier's Peak. They hoped to go out after the Landsmeet in Cloudreach and start the repairs and renovations.
"I can't see why we can't fit this visit to the Wardens in Amaranthine perfectly well," she concluded. "I shall put on my armor, and then I'm off."
"And we're invited to an intimate dinner tonight with the two of them. Anora even invited Morrigan and Anders to join us."
That actually made Maude laugh.
The problem of Denerim still rankling, Loghain burst out, "You know, this situation would not have arisen if you hadn't killed Vaughan Kendalls. Why did you, anyway?"
Maude moved to the vanity to pin up her hair, her step rather jaunty. "I told you. He was a pig."
"And you always kill all pigs wherever you find them?"
She nodded sagely. "Whenever and wherever I can. He was a very swinish pig indeed. If you must know, when I was clearing out Howe's dungeons, I came upon an elf who had been imprisoned by Vaughan long before the Battle of Ostagar. Probably nobody else remembered his crime, which was to oppose the abduction and rape of his bride, his sister, his cousin, and their attendants, when Vaughan and his best friends crashed a wedding looking for 'whores," as the debonair noble so charmingly put it. A number of the girls, including his cousin, were killed outright or died in the course of the abuse. That Shianni, by the way, the red-haired girl we met at the Alienage, is his sister, and one of the survivors. Unluckily for Vaughan, I came across him just after I killed Rendon Howe. My blood was…up...at the moment, and he really should have watched his tone with me. Threatening to flay me just…" she narrowed her eyes, searching for the right word. "…just put me a little over the edge."
She pulled on a new, clean gambeson, whistling a brief, cheerful melody. "Have a nice time at your meeting. I'm sure I'll have heaps to keep me busy." She turned to him, with a look of cool amusement. "Don't expect me to apologize. Denerim, Ferelden, and indeed all Thedas is better off without a piece of shit like that, and you know it."
"And then you took his stuff."
"Of course I did. Why should I treat him any differently than the countless others I've killed? I persuaded him to give me the key to his strongbox, and then I killed him. He was worth twenty sovereigns dead, and worth less than nothing alive. I never liked him anyway."
Before the meeting began, Loghain had a moment to bring Anora the jar with Cailan's ashes, and had a servant deliver Cailan's armor to the Royal Armory. Maric's sword was a different matter. Chantry Boy had given him no reason to believe that he would value his father's weapon. For now, Loghain locked it away in the Compound's cellars, carefully oiled and wrapped. Perhaps his grandchild would someday be proud to own such a storied blade.
The meeting itself lasted far longer than he had anticipated. Eamon droned on endlessly: a clever ploy, clearly intended to dull the wits of his auditors. By making them bored and sleepy, Eamon was hoping to slip things past them. Loghain forced himself to remain alert, but was rather tired from the effort now. It had gone on so long that the King complained of hunger, and a lunch was brought. That made everyone even sleepier, as they worked through it and into the early afternoon. There was going to be trouble at the Landsmeet about the Denerim proposal. Something really needed to be done about Eamon soon…
Loghain hoped Maude was amusing herself and would not feel ignored. He needed to get her out of Denerim. This city was bad for her. Once she was out in the country, fighting, she would have no more time to brood on slights. Once they were at Soldier's Peak, she would be Queen of all she surveyed, happily occupied with her own domain.
He escaped at last, and found that the Wardens' Compound was silent. Presumably Maude was still harassing the merchants of Denerim. The housekeeper came out at the sound of his footsteps.
"Ah, 'tis you, my lord," she said, looking a trifle disappointed. "I had thought it was my lady and the other Wardens. She sent word earlier that she might be late. I've kept their nooning warm for them."
"She went to the Market, I know," Loghain said, "And the others are with her?"
"Yes, indeed. Man, woman, dog, and all."
What could be keeping her? He puzzled over it. He considered getting back to work on what Maude was pleased to call the Garethopedia. Instead, he found one of Maude's ridiculous books, and sat down in the big chair by the fire with it.
"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that an unmarried nobleman must be in want of a wife…"
He snorted. Common-born as he was, the noble mothers of Ferelden had tied themselves in knots to win him for their daughters, back in the days when he was first made Teyrn of Gwaren. There was considerable indignation when he followed his heart and chose the daughter of a cabinet-maker. Even after Celia's death…even indecently soon after Celia's death, they had hounded him. He had been forced to make clear his disinclination to wed again. Probably a surprising amount of the seething resentment against him in the Bannorn stemmed from those days. He had wished to make himself understood, even by proud mothers and fathers, and he had offended key figures in the Landsmeet.
Even Bryce had once…long ago…they had been drinking…and Maude's father had very delicately put out some feelers, shortly after Cailan's wedding, when there was no longer any question of making a royal marriage for his daughter…. Maker, how young had Maude been at the time? Sixteen? Seventeen? A beautiful, spirited child. He had been more polite to the Teyrn of Highever than to some others, and he could honestly tell the man that his daughter was lovely, but he had been very plain about how inappropriately young the girl was. .He had told Bryce that his daughter deserved better. Bryce no doubt agreed, and had let the matter drop. Another irony.
He turned the page. The heroine of the story was a saucy chit. No wonder Maude liked her. The nobleman, on the other hand, was a stuffy dullard.
"'She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me…'" What a fool. Pretty true to life, but a silly story, all the same.
He dozed, and slipped into the Fade.
"My lord!" shouted the guard, "The Warden has been captured! Ser Cauthrien is even now taking her to Fort Drakon!"
Good news at last. Loghain rose, and set out to settle this matter. The wayward little rebel had caused him no end of trouble and expense, and it was time for a reckoning. He stalked down a long dark hall. The Warden was at the end of it. He passed an open door, Screams and lurid light spilled onto his path. Glancing to the side, he saw Rendon Howe at his work, diligently questioning the broken man on the rack. Howe glanced up and gave Loghain a knowing smirk.
"So the spitfire is in the net at last. Need some help?"
"No. She's mine."
"Just as you like, of course. If she proves stubborn…"
"Of course she'll prove stubborn," Loghain muttered to himself, not breaking his stride. "She's the bloody Warden." All those troops at her command…those alliances…there must be some sort of leverage he could use that would tame her, but not damage her so visibly that her allies would refuse to treat with him. He needed to get his hands on those companions of hers. They would probably try to help her escape…
There she was! The rebels had failed, and the prize was still his. Loghain strode to the door of the cell, deep satisfaction burning in his belly. The girl was nearly naked, examining her cell for weaknesses. A wild, lovely creature, he acknowledge unwillingly, admiring the muscled back and the long legs.
"Warden," he drawled.
The girl turned to face him. It was Rowan, dark curling hair falling to her shoulders. Her proud, unyielding gaze surrendered nothing...
Loghain fought out of the nightmare, shuddering. The unheeded book slid to the floor. He gave himself a shake. Nothing like that had happened. It did not do to dwell on dreams.
The outer doors thudded open, and that noise was followed by scuffling and smothered laughter. The lightest hint of fresh, cool air drifted though the stones of the Compound, carrying Maude's voice at its most cheerful.
"Shepherd's Pie! You're a wonder, Mistress Primrose! Ranger! Sit! That looks marvelous! Let me wash up a bit…I'm filthy."
"Indeed you are," Morrigan voice replied tartly. "Do I detect a hint of decayed rat?"
"That's probably me," Anders complained. "That last explosion was messy."
"Food first!" declared Maude, "Then baths!"
Loghain set the book aside, and found the rest of the Fereldan Wardens gathered in the study, admiring the set-out on the round table. Ranger whuffed, and trotted over to him, tail wagging, seeming mightily pleased with himself. Loghain scratched the dog's ears. Maude beamed at him. She was indeed filthy.
"We've been having a lovely time," she told him. "We just killed a honking great demon in the Alienage!"
"Lovely," snarked Anders. He grinned all the same.
"A pity you were not there, Loghain," Morrigan drawled. "But the dog did very well in your stead."
"Ouch!" Anders smirked at Loghain, and then lifted the cover from a dish, smiling blissfully through the fragrant steam.
The housekeeper and an elven servant bustled in with basins of hot water and some towels. There was some scrubbing, and the company fell to without further delay. Loghain had already eaten, but the pie looked rather good…
"What were you doing in the Alienage?" he wondered.
"Told you," Maude said around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "A demon. Those poor elves had been waiting for me for over a month, ever since they figured out the problem. Actually, a Templar figured out the problem—"
"Ser Otto," Anders supplied. "He captured me once before he was blinded. Quite a decent fellow: more sincere and less twisted than most. After the Chantry wrote him off as too disabled for duty, he was looking was something to do. Couldn't get the Chantry interested in the elves' problem, though, and after testing the waters, so to speak, he knew it was too much for him alone…"
Morrigan was enjoying an apple tart. She wiped daintily at the juices, and sniped. "And no wonder. The place was quite infested. The Templar, poor fool, insisted on thrusting himself into the thick of things and was nearly killed. At any rate, the thing is dead and gone, and the elves have once again tendered their eternal gratitude. Not that it's worth much."
Loghain ask dryly, "Did the demon have much stuff to take?"
Maude shrugged. "Not much. I donated it all to the elves anyway. They need everything they can get. Are we still on for our private dinner with Their Majesties tonight?"
Their dinner tonight was in the Family Dining Parlor. Anders and Morrigan had never been in this room, and looked about them with interest. Anora had done a great deal with it over the years, and had transformed what had been plain and unadorned into an exquisitely furnished and decorated jewelbox. It was too Orlesian for Loghain's taste, and he had told her so. Anora had told him he was mistaken, and that it was not Orlesian at all. It was not clear to Loghain what other word could describe a place with chairs cushioned not only on the seats but on the backs. As for the painted walls...
"So, Grandmother," teased Alistair, "tell me more about the demon in the Alienage. You're sure it wasn't an abomination?"
Morrigan rolled her eyes. Anders rolled his. Their eyes met and they both sighed eloquently.
Alistair made a face. "Right. You're sure. How did it get there?"
Maude smiled wolfishly, quite glad to tell them all.
"Back when Rendon Howe was taking over Denerim—"
Loghain grimaced, not liking that particular turn of phrase.
"—he decided to put the elves in their places, so he unleashed a purge on the Alienage. Houses were raided and dangerous agitators put to the sword. Among those very dangerous agitators were all the children in the Orphanage. Thirty-five or thirty-six, according to various accounts. So the awfully brave men and women slaughtered the menacing scary children—"
"Maude," Loghain began, hoping he could stop her before she really insulted Anora.
She smiled back at him coolly. "Just the facts, then. The children and their caretakers were put to the sword. Such an event occasionally leaves…traces."
Anders put in, "It's possible that at least one of the children was a mage. Very young, and probably unknowing, but however it happened, the murders created dangerous phantasms and drew a lot of minor demons and one really dangerous one to the site."
Maude took up the tale. "The elves are short of housing. There are some new orphans from the battle, but mostly they want to turn most of the building into hired rooms for the homeless. It was impossible until the demons were driven out. So they had a lookout waiting in the Market District: waiting until I turned up."
Anora had become more and more vexed as she listened. "Surely they did not need to wait so long! Why could they not submit a petition to the Crown?"
Alistair nodded, enjoying his dinner. Food in the Palace was always so good. "I'd be happy to take on a demon. No problem. Were they too afraid to ask?"
Both Maude and Anora smiled on Chantry Boy then, to Loghain's disgust. They actually looked pleased with him.
Maude said, "I know you would have helped them, had you known. They were afraid, yes: but after a bit they were much more afraid of the demon. So the hahren and my friend Shianni and some others actually did try to lodge a petition, but as usual, they were turned away at the Palace gates, very rudely, I expect."
Anora looked angry, and Maude asked her in her sweetest voice. "Has any elf ever actually lodged a petition with you? No? There's a reason for that. Your loyal guards are just trying to protect you, and they have a lot of power over who you do and don't see."
"That stops tonight," Alistair growled. Anora patted his hand in agreement. Loghain refused to get involved in the discussion. They had no idea what would happen if their door really was open to absolutely everyone. Maric had tried it. Let them find out for themselves.
""Good on you," Maude said equably. "Anyway, they weren't able to get official help, and the City Guard is not really equipped to deal with demons. Other than a sweet soul like Ser Otto, the Templars were uninterested, since it only involved elves."
She played with her spoon, admiring the little silver mabari on the handle, and said, "And they finally turned to the Wardens, since they'd had good luck with us in the past. Kristoff heard them out politely, they said, but told them that if it didn't involve darkspawn, it was not within his purview. And then the Wardens all went north, anyway. So the elves pinned their hopes on my return. They found me and we went in with nice Ser Otto and we cleaned that place out, I can tell you. The elves were already dividing up the space when we left. They'll have to get rid of the remains and scrub up the blood, but it will be a tremendous help to them."
"Maude gave them coin for a celebration," Morrigan tattled. "She is such a soft touch."
"Am not."
"'Tis only too true. You are sorry for the elves."
"No!" Maude said sarcastically. "You think?"
"It was a brave and generous act," Anora said. "Something really must be done about the Alienage." She caught Alistair's eye, and he frowned, evidently considering something they had already discussed. Loghain imagined that Anora had grand plans for Denerim, once it was under royal control, and now the elves were to be included. Good luck with that.
Anora told them that there were reports of trouble on the Northern roads. The Pilgrim's Path was the name for the way north from Denerim to the city of Amaranthine. It included a part of the North Road and then followed the Amaranthine Road through the Wending Wood, to Vigil's Keep and then on to the seaport. The trouble was partly the usual sort: bandits and scavengers taking advantage of the chaos of war. There were other rumors, too: of spirits and demons unleashed by the conflict. There were darkspawn, too, of course, hiding in the landscape. They would probably have an adventurous journey.
"And before you leave," Alistair said eagerly, "I want you to meet someone. I've got a recruit for the Wardens!" He signaled to a guard, and in a few moments a young woman in armor entered.
Her name was Mhairi—Ser Mhairi, actually. She was a knight of Denerim and a well-regarded warrior. She was young, too: as young as Maude, but without Maude's broad experience of the world. Loghain would never have guessed that the girl harbored a secret desire to be a Grey Warden.
She was back from Vigil's Keep, the fortress of the Arls of Amaranthine, and had spent some time with the Orlesian Wardens there. She had, it seemed, been impressed by them. That did not speak well for her, in Loghain's opinion, but she was the King's choice. Perhaps he was trying to place someone among the Wardens who would report back to him.
"I do truly wish to devote my life to fighting the darkspawn, Warden-Commander," she said to Loghain. She was certainly keen: her blue eyes bright with determination. "There is no nobler cause in all Thedas! I haven't taken my Joining yet, but I look forward to fighting at your side."
"Quite right," said Maude, with an encouraging smile. Only those who knew her well would notice the signs of strain around her eyes. "If you're absolutely sure you want to Join, then by all means come along. I am sure we'll be glad of your sword."
The girl was completely rigged out in Warden gear already, even to the winged helmet. A hero-worshipper, then, though not particularly a worshipper of Loghain, nor even of Maude. No, it was handsome, empty-headed Chantry Boy who had her devotion. No one could miss the wide-eyed adoration. Anora would probably be happy to get her out of the Palace.
They traveled fairly lightly on their way to Vigil's Keep, loading Meghren the mule only with what they would need personally for a brief visit. Anora had given them a dozen men at arms, and a wagon to transport the additional supplies that would likely be welcome to the Wardens, as well as a pair of servants and a cook. They made a sizeable party.
Maude persisted in wearing Sophia's old armor. To Loghain's knowledge, she had never tried on the Archdemon armor, or even touched it. It remained on the armor stand in her old room at the Compound. At the moment, Loghain thought it was best not to speak of it.
After only an hour or two on the road, other people followed in their wake, wanting the protection that Loghain and his command could provide.
"There's trouble in the Wending Wood, my lord," one elderly carter told him earnestly. "Some lads came running south on the road awhile back. Said the trees themselves had turned on them. Crazy talk, but there's darkspawn and all. You don't mind if we follow on behind, do you?"
"You can come with us as far as Vigil's Keep," Loghain told him. "That's where we're headed."
A two day journey by horseback stretched to three, but Loghain had expected that, since they had their own wagon. Six of Anora's men were detailed to serve as a rear guard.
Mhairi insisted on taking point, claiming that she was "leading" them to Vigil's Keep. Maude sweetly pointed out that she had visited the Keep frequently from her earliest years.
"I know the Vigil extremely well. The guest bedchamber they used to put me in had a wonderful view of the mouth of the Hafter River. Some of the guest rooms are pretty grim, but the ones on the east side at least have good air and a view. The Howes put all their money into the Great Hall. The rest of the place, frankly, is fairly dismal. We always spent part of Justinian there, and we'd go fishing in the backwater, or net shieldfins in the shallows."
"Shieldfins," Anders mused. "Those are good eating…"
Loghain was also familiar with Vigil's Keep. Still, he preferred to let the young knight ride ahead. It kept her away from Maude, and it prevented Mhairi from speaking to him. Everything she said to him either began or ended with the title "Warden-Commander," pronounced in an aggravatingly reverent, breathless tone.
He kept his eyes open as they traveled through the Wending Wood. There was something here: something angry and malignant. Maude caught his eye, evidently sensing the same thing.
Trees loomed over the road on either side of them. The sun's rays were fractured by the dense foliage, and only a feeble dappled light reached the forest floor. Distant, creaking noises, like the sighing of boughs in a high wind, drifted from the dark wood. Loghain peered into the trees. There was no high wind, but only a slight breeze. Whatever it was, it was not darkspawn, and he could not take the time to investigate it, since there was no way he wanted his people to stay here overnight. They would push on, and then camp where his map showed the Blackmarsh Road branching from the Pilgrim's Path.
At the next bend in the road, the way was blocked by an overturned, smoking wagon and a pair of dead oxen. When some of the guardsmen broke ranks to move the obstacles, Loghain called them back sharply.
"No! Stay alert. You people!" he ordered the folk traveling with them. "Move all that out of the way!"
Maude murmured, "I should check it for traps."
He gave her a nod, and she dropped lightly to the ground, warily approaching the wreckage. Ranger padded next to her, muzzle thrust forward as he sniffed. Maude examined the site, and then waved a trio of farm laborers to join her.
"What a stink!" one complained.
"They've been dead at least a full day," Maude called back to Loghain. "A pair of humans—traders, it looks like. The wagon's been looted. This wasn't darkspawn."
The dead men were carried to the side of the road and covered with a scrap of blanket found in the back of the wagon. With greater effort the oxen were dragged out of the way.
Mhairi cried, "We're not just going to leave those poor souls to the wolves, are we, Warden-Commander? Won't we give them to the fire?" There were murmurs of sympathy and agreement from the civilians in their caravan.
Maude rolled her eyes at Loghain and shrugged. If they were alone, it was obvious what the answer would be, but they were not alone. The dead men were put in the back of their own wagon, wrapped in some spare blankets, and they hastened ahead.
After another three miles the woods slipped away behind them, and they were out in the flat coastal plain. Without delay, the dead men were laid out and the mages ordered to burn the bodies. This display of magic alarmed some, but there was only so much Loghain was willing to do to appease people's sensibilities. When that was done, the sun was low in the sky. They moved on another mile, and camped by a spring marked on Loghain's map of Amaranthine.
It was a very orderly, well-guarded camp. Morrigan discreetly cast a few wards, but the watch could be kept by the soldiers. Loghain patrolled the camp's perimeter himself, getting the feel of the place. That malevolent presence, whatever it had been, had not followed them here.
It was a luxury to have their own cook with them and supplies enough even to satisfy hungry Wardens. They talked quietly of their plans for the morrow. A short day's travel would take them to Vigil's Keep, and Loghain would want a full report from Kristoff of the Orlesian Wardens' activities in the Arling of Amaranthine.
Maude was having a quiet conversation with Mhairi. It surprisedLoghain a little, because it was obvious that Maude did not particularly like the young woman. Loghain thought her pleasant enough, though he could see why Maude might find Mhairi's vocal self-righteousness a bit wearing.
Whatever they were discussing, they were clearly not in agreement. Mhairi's voice rose, loud enough to be heard on the other side of the campfire.
"I'm not afraid of sacrifice," she declared.
"That's because you've never sacrificed anything yourself," Maude shot back. "I wish I could make clear to you what you might be giving up. Being a Warden isn't grand, and it isn't glorious, and most of the world will never know what you've done for them, or care much, even if they do. I can tell you this: you will be risking your life from the very beginning. If you make it through the first day, you will eventually die a lonely and horrible death, killed by hideous monsters. And there's another thing: if you ever want children, you should take care of that before you Join. You won't have time or opportunity later."
"The security of Thedas should be everyone's first priority, Senior Warden," Mhairi rebutted smugly. ""I would think you understood that."
Loghain immediately put a stop to what would certainly turn out badly. "Enough, Mhairi! Maude is Senior Warden here, and you will not bandy words with her."
"As you say, Warden-Commander." Mhairi bowed her submission, but, feeling she had won the day, sauntered off to her tent with a smile. Maude stared at her retreating back in disbelief, and blew out a long breath.
Morrigan gave Maude a curious look. "That is certainly not the speech you gave me. Have you changed your opinion so much?"
Maude shook her head, and lowered her voice. "No. You and she are totally different people. I was absolutely sure you would survive the Joining, and I hoped that you would agree that this was the best way to ensure a good life and immunity from the Chantry for you. Plus, we had to consider how best to avoid an attack on you by Flemeth. As for the rest," she smirked at Morrigan, "you've had a dose of Avernus' super-Warden potion, and you're a mage yourself. You traveled with Wardens for over a year, and you had a pretty good idea what you were getting into. Avernus managed to avoid the Calling, and it could be that the potion alone will do that. Mhairi is not a mage, and she's not even a sensible person. She's a clueless lamb to the slaughter. But I warned her, and now I'm done. Especially after her last stupidly condescending remark."
Anders poked the fire. "You don't think she'll survive the Joining."
"We'll see, won't we?" Maude said. She sat down by Ranger, and gave him a proper belly rub, while the fire popped and crackled into the lengthening silence.
A little after noon of the following day, they arrived at Vigil's Keep. Instead of being greeted by Arlessa Delilah and the Orlesian Wardens, they were met by the ominous sight of black smoke hovering over the battlements, and a pack of darkspawn chasing a screaming man out of the courtyard, straight in their direction.
Mhairi was horrified. "The darkspawn are in the castle?"
Maude was indignant. "Delilah had better not have given them the good bedchambers!"
Notes—Thanks to my reviewers: Guile, Shakespira, Josie Lange, Phygmalion, Lehni, Judy, Enaid Aderyn, Aoi24, Jenna53, gaj620, mutive, Shikyo-sama, Fastforwarmotion, Kira Kyuuketsuki, mille libri, JackOfBladesX, PhoenixFawkes310, wayfaringpanda, Evalyne, Amhran Comhrac, icey cold, Zute, Sarah1281, and Piceron.
The Garethopedia is a nod to proud father Walter Shandy's Tristopedia in Laurence Sterne's Tristram Shandy.
In icey cold's superb Trovommi Amor, Empress Celene uses a hairpin in a lethal manner. I have no doubt that Maude could do likewise. I also do not doubt that Eleanor Cousland would own something of the sort.
Pride and Prejudice appeared in Denerim through a dimensional rift, and was immediately adapted by a quick-witted Chantry sister, eager to provide the Fereldans with something other than the usual trashy Orlesian romances.