disclaimer type=standard
Anything you recognise is Bioware's. I daresay anything else belongs to them too.
/disclaimer
o_ooo000ooo_o
"And so with Amaranthine pacified, you began building the Ferelden Grey Wardens into the force they are today."
"Yep. I'm quite proud of them."
Cassandra filed that away. "What happened after you returned?"
"The next few weeks were a bit rocky. Drake and Hape survived the Joining, but Bhenson didn't. Two more soldiers died because of the taint. We spotted both in time, but neither survived their Joining. Oghren's team mapped a path to Kal'Hirol underground. Anders finished his research and sent copies to the Circle and the other Wardens." She sighed. "And then we lost Anders, but our numbers began swelling quite satisfactorily."
Cassandra paused. "You mentioned that Anders left due to a mistake on your part. A compound mistake, I believe your words were. What happened?"
A wicked smile lit up the Warden's features. "I'm so glad you asked," she said.
o_ooo000ooo_o
Velanna became everyone's friend the next day. The waspish mage's control of nature magic was incredible, and she created and maintained a steady breeze flowing across the Vigil. It meant that she was obliged to sit in one spot and concentrate, but the gentle airflow took the greasy soot and ash from the darkspawn pyres away from the Keep. Just having clean air to breathe improved morale out of sight.
The steady stream of gratitude both surprised and pleased her, or at least softened her disposition a little. As a Grey Warden she was afforded respect from all - human, dwarf and elf. She was still a shrill-voiced harpy when confronted with stupidity, but that was not something I could bemoan. I turned into a sarcastic monster when confronted with the same.
We gave Bhenson to the stone in the Deep Roads, and the other two failed Joinings to the flames. I had been extremely lucky to date with my recruiting. But being lucky and still having to lay to rest a significant fraction of your recruits was soul-sapping. I really needed to send someone to Soldier's Peak soon to see what my two pet maleficars had worked out from the flowers I sent. Given the way my mages reacted to blood magic, I'd probably have to go myself.
Outside the Keep, I personally directed elemental fire and quickly reduced darkspawn corpses to ash. My spell-work drew a crowd of gawkers, including just about every child within a couple of miles. The crowd scattered the instant the first firestorm erupted, but repetition bred complacency. By the end of the first day I had an audience numbering close to fifty.
Many of the children tried mimicking the command words and gestures in the hope of calling down heavenly fire upon their irritating, younger (or overbearing, older) siblings. It didn't work of course, but shrieks of fright became shrieks of laughter as the day wore on. In the days following, the universal childhood games of chase and tag morphed to include verbal booms, crackles and whooshes of pretend magic. It was a sight that caused many a blanched face and hushed admonishing among the peasantry, but given that their lord was a mage; their tongues were held in public.
It helped that Anders was such a handsome, charming specimen of a mage. Many mothers were aghast at their children's antics until he wandered past, laughing uproarishly at their games, dispensing encouragement and boiled sweets. His roguish looks and cheeky grins endeared him to the worried womenfolk of the Keep.
He finalised documenting his findings on the Architect's abilities. Just in time too, as a messenger from Denerim arrived that evening bearing some royal correspondence. He planned to continue on his way to Highever, with some items for Fergus. He readily agreed to take Anders' notes to the Circle in return for a comfortable night in the Vigil rather than a wayside inn. He departed the next day, fortified and refreshed, with a bit of magical rejuvenation thrown in.
Oghren found domestic bliss with a pregnant female a little too blissful, and volunteered to lead the group mapping an underground path to Kal'Hirol. He took Briannah, Drake and Hape with him, comfortable that he could keep the junior Wardens safe in the relatively clear section of the Deep Roads. We could not spare a healer for them, so they left well stocked with healing salves.
Sigrun left in the same direction, but overland. She, Seranni, Falon'fen, and Anders rolled away to the west in a trio of wagons laden with items for Kal'Hirol, as well as materials and tools for tanning and stripping a draconic corpse. They planned to harvest the recently slain dragon of materials, and survey the Dragonbone Wastes for usable (and extractable) dragonbone. If she didn't manage to bring back the whole dragon skull, I'd be very surprised.
I handed Benjamin over to Garevel and his sergeants for basic training in weaponry of the non-bucket variety. The lad had apparently grown up serving, going by the trouble he had speaking above a whisper to a human. He told me that he managed to evade Howe's purge of all the elves in Amaranthine by joining the legions of army support staff. Garevel reported the young Grey Warden as very even-tempered, but his slight frame precluded him from wielding heavier weapons. He was very quick and nimble with small blades, and after testing his skills I suspected that he had a lot more previous experience with them than was strictly legal for a city elf.
Velanna continued to study Shapeshifting and Arcane Warrior spellcraft. She accepted my tutoring with good grace, happy to be a part of reviving the ancient elven magic. Her disdain for armour had faded following the battle with the Architect, and vanished completely when Wade presented her with a set of light leathers fashioned from the archdemon's remains.
Most of the rest of my time was spent with Nathaniel, as he continued my education into the art of statecraft. It was a subject that would take a lifetime of learning. More and more, I felt that Nate was the future of both Amaranthine and the Ferelden Grey Wardens.
A few days after the end of the siege, a lone figure carefully picked his way past the ash piles dotting the landscape. He presented his credentials at the gate, and was then escorted to me.
Velanna and I were in the middle of stabilising her spell shield when a grinning ex-Antivan Crow entered the room. "Another delectable conscript, my sweet? Perhaps I was too hasty in declaring that the Wardens were not the place for me?"
I sighed as Velanna's countenance went from merely stiff to mid-winter-frosty in less than a heartbeat. "Zev, this is Velanna, one of my Wardens. Velanna, this is Zevran, an old companion of mine."
"Old? Ah, but you know how to hurt a man, light of my life."
I stuck my tongue out at him. "Fine. A former companion. If you get the opportunity, feel free to let him give you a massage. They're almost as good as he claims." Zevran preened. With a wicked grin, I continued. "Feel free to eviscerate him if he tries anything else. I can help you hide the body."
Velanna, whose features bore a silent (and eloquent) expression of revulsion at the thought of getting a massage from the lecherous elf, actually appeared to give the idea some thought.
Zevran waggled a finger at me. "You, my dear, are a cruel, cruel woman."
I stepped over and embraced him with a smile. "It's good to see you, Zev. Did you enjoy your trip to the Circle?"
He returned my hug, his hands lingering on my posterior only briefly. "Ah yes, the Circle. I suppose you would not have heard the major political news. Several weeks ago, Knight-Commander Tavish had a terrible accident."
"You don't say?"
He gave me an artful expression of mourning, one hand on his heart. "Indeed. The poor man fell down one of the many, many staircases late one evening. His neck broke. Such is an occupational hazard when one habitually wears top-heavy armour and lives in a tower."
"What a tragedy," I agreed with a straight face.
Velanna glanced between us, suspicion evident in her expression. "I am missing some context," she declared with a pout. "You are not exhibiting the level of sorrow your words suggest."
I turned to her. "Tavish is… that is, was, rabidly anti-mage. After a group of a dozen mages helped the Grey Wardens kill the archdemon, the king and queen tried to reform the Circle, to give the mages locked up there more control of their destiny."
The Dalish mage sniffed with disdain. "Your religion does not value magical talent as it should."
I inclined my head. "Quite so. Well, Greagoir was in charge when the Circle agreed to the reforms proposed by the crown. He was forcibly retired, and Tavish was appointed Knight-Commander of the Circle in his place. Tavish immediately renounced the reforms."
Velanna glanced suspiciously at me. "How convenient it was for this templar to suffer a fatal accident so soon after defying your king. Do you suppose he had Tavish assassinated?"
Zevran raised an eyebrow at me.
I sighed. "She's not yet been corrupted by exposure to the depravity of proper civilisation," I apologised to him. "Velanna, Zevran was trained by the Antivan Crows." At her blank expression, I explained further. "Those assassins who tried to kill me a couple of weeks ago? Remember?"
Her jaw fell. "He killed Tavish?!" she blurted.
Zevran exploded at the same time with, "What?!"
I gave Zevran an appraising look. "We'll discuss it later but in short, a half dozen Crows tried killing me. Right here in the Keep; in the main hall no less. They were supporting a group of nobles who were still loyal to Rendon Howe. Now, back to Tavish. I can't imagine that your former profession is unknown. Any suspicious death at the Circle while you were there would have resulted in your arrest."
Despite his curiosity at my heavily truncated description, he shook his head and gave a nonchalant shrug. "But of course. The body had barely rolled to a stop before one of the templars barged in to arrest me."
I felt a shiver run down my spine at the thought. "I take it you had an alibi then?"
Zev spread his hands and gave me a mock bow. "Ah, my lovely bella donna; your faith in me is humbling. At the moment of his death I was in a meeting with the First Enchanter, Alistair's negotiator Larkworthy, the quartermaster of Kinloch Hold and Tavish's two Knight-Captains. Each vouched for my whereabouts. A few did so begrudgingly, it's true, but they did so nonetheless."
I gave a soft whistle. "That's a more than reasonable cast," I said. "How long until they finally gave up and admitted they had no clue as to how you managed to kill Tavish?"
He chuckled. "I did spend a few days in a cell while they argued. A few of the more intellectually challenged among the templars invented quite a fantastical tale of my prowess to explain the conundrum. One fellow in particular had given me powers of invisibility and wing-less flight in order to commit heinous murder."
Velanna looked confused. "How did you kill this Tavish if you were meeting with others at the time?" she asked, apparently not particularly bothered by the casual assassination of a shemlen knight.
"There are ways," he replied mysteriously. "They are not important, however. The testimony of those in the meeting was enough to secure my release. A week passed before a new Knight-Commander was appointed."
I rolled my eyes. "It probably would have stretched even your skills to make the next mana-phobic moron die in an accident without implicating you."
He inclined his head in silent agreement. "Perhaps. But the opportunity never arose. The appointed man cancelled Larkworthy's negotiations, and committed to the original agreement. The mages of your Circle are once again allowed to seek employment."
I blinked. That was unexpected. "What in the Maker's name happened back in Denerim? Why would they appoint someone like that?"
Zevran pulled a letter from his tunic. "Eamon explains it in this. Apparently, the Grand Cleric nominated a favourite of hers who embodied the old prejudices. The Knight-Commander Darrian vetoed her decision, and appointed your friend Bryant to the post."
"Bryant? Bryant is the new Knight-Commander?" I boggled.
"Indeed," Zev confirmed. "The man's fortunes have swung markedly in the last few months. He was stripped of his rank and imprisoned when you neglected to surrender to the Chantry before the Landsmeet. But he was released, reinstated and promoted to take the position at the Circle on the authority of this Darrian."
I felt a sudden chill. I'd not considered the impact my decision would have on Bryant. The thought of him languishing in a cell under the Cathedral troubled me. "That bitch arrested him just because I didn't run when they whistled? And Darrian released him? How can he overrule the Grand Cleric?"
Zev gave me a sympathetic look. "She did. And it appears that the man Darrian wields disproportionate influence in the Chantry, despite simply ranking as a Knight-Commander. Beware of him, Kathryn. His motives are not yet clear."
I snorted. "It sounds like they might be too clear. We can't see them."
Zev rolled his eyes and grumbled something about the inconsistencies of the Ferelden language.
"Who is this Bryant?" Velanna asked.
"A good man," I replied simply. "A templar I met at Lothering before the darkspawn destroyed it."
She looked at me oddly. "From Oghren's tales, I would not have believed that you would describe any templar as 'good', no matter what."
I gave a small nod. "True. Oghren never met him. Bryant is more concerned with the well-being of those under his protection than abusing his authority. It didn't matter to him that I was a woman, a mage or an elf, he saw me as a Grey Warden. He gave me access to some needed supplies and ran interference with the other templars. He did everything he could to evacuate the township before the darkspawn reached it. He was the last person out."
Not finding anything in my description that she could use to denigrate the man, Velanna simply sniffed dismissively.
"I spoke with Bryant a few times after he arrived at the tower," Zev continued. "He bears you no ill will."
I sighed. "That's… good. What about the mages? Did you see Connor?"
"Ah, Eamon's son, yes? Irving asked me to tell you that he was close to using your final protection for the lad; though he refused to mention exactly what that protection consisted of. I have a suspicion, and I believe the ex-Knight-Commander did too. He - that is, Tavish - was particularly malicious towards the boy."
My eyes widened. "It was that bad?"
"Oh yes. I witnessed several incidents that would be considered criminal anywhere in the civilised world. Several mages tried protesting, and were punished harshly for their presumption. Of course, that simply encouraged the rest to plan in secret." He shook his head. "You mages are so naïve. In a week, I prevented four small groups planning sedition from being discovered by patrolling templars. Your old friends are woefully innocent of how the world works."
"We never get instruction in that," I pointed out. "They don't want us to be able to disappear if we ever escape."
Zev gave me an amused grin. "There is talk of including some 'real-life' education for the younger students. I believe the hope is that the Chantry is not embarrassed by the actions of poor, ignorant mages out in the world for the first time."
I narrowed my eyes. He was having a jibe at me. "I managed all right," I growled.
He shook his head, still highly amused. "No, my dear. You did not. You still make silly errors."
"Really?" I demanded.
"Oh yes. I find it most amusing."
I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair. "Amusing, eh? If I'm making all these mistakes, why doesn't anyone tell me?"
Velanna laughed aloud. "Because everyone is terrified of you."
Zev nodded mournfully at my shocked expression. "Your delectable companion is correct, my dear. People who try changing your course tend to end up squashed. I am a case in point. Rather than be squashed however, I bonded myself to the crazy, sexy elf woman who shakes the entire world with her footsteps. Thedas is learning that it is safer to simply to let you go your way, and to pick up the pieces afterwards."
I blinked. "Really?" I had thought that people agreed with me because they thought I was right, not because I'd immolate them for disagreeing with me.
"Oh yes. 'Arrow straight, but nuttier than squirrel shit', is how I've heard you described. Quite aptly, too."
I glanced at Velanna, who merely returned the look questioningly. "What? He is perfectly correct," she supplied. She turned to Zev. "What 'case in point' are you referring to?"
"Oh, the Crows were hired to kill the Grey Wardens during the Blight. I was given the task, and I failed spectacularly. Kathryn was suitably moved by my eloquence and sex appeal to recruit me into her fellowship."
Velanna rounded on me. "Is that true?" she demanded.
I shrugged. "Apart from the sex appeal thing, pretty much."
"You would welcome someone who tried to kill you as a companion?" she said, aghast.
I raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Zevran was hired to kill me. Sten tried to assume leadership of our group, through the Qunari method of trial at arms. Loghain hired assassins, sent troops after me, and even duelled me on the Landsmeet floor. Nathaniel planned to kill me if he got the chance. And as I recall, you set some creatures onto me the day we met. I don't see wanting me dead as a major stumbling block to developing a good working relationship."
Velanna just looked over at Zevran and said, "Nuttier than squirrel shit indeed."
Zev smirked at her, but then his face grew serious. "What of the Crows who attacked you? Did you recruit any of them?"
I shook my head. "No. I have no need for incompetent idiots. You set up an ambush that should have worked. You positioned archers on high ground on both sides of me, included a mage in your group and trapped the ambush site. If it wasn't for your idiotic declaration of 'The Grey Warden dies here!' it would have been thoroughly professional. These idiots just lined up with some nobles and rushed at us in a room with dozens of pillars to hide crossbowmen behind."
"There were some archers," Velanna interjected.
"One archer," I retorted. "And he lost focus the instant I ordered Thunder to go for his danglers. No, they were idiots. They were trying to kill a mage and didn't bother to bring along a mage in support. Or even someone with templar skills."
Zevran frowned. "That does not sound like the Crows. Are you sure?"
I nodded. "Quite sure. The ex-Bann Esmerelle kept journals and ledgers that proved most useful in destroying the major crime rings in Amaranthine. They were Crows, but there is nothing in her records to indicate that she paid the fee."
"That makes little sense," Zev mused. "Of course, it makes less sense given that Ignacio would not accept a contract on you in the first place."
I grinned nastily. "I'll have to ask him when I next visit Denerim."
He sighed. "Try not to kill him if you can help it. It might be difficult to develop a relationship with his successor."
Zevran left a few hours later, preferring not to even stay a night. He had other urgent intelligence for Alistair and Anora that could not wait. He left after a hot meal, slightly more burdened with my correspondence for Alistair.
Velanna's disposition deteriorated over the next few days, it being one of the longest periods of time she had lived without dirt between her toes. I suggested that she and Nathaniel leave the Vigil to try and locate some nearby Dalish clans. They were given several things to accomplish; exchange intelligence on darkspawn movements, introduce Nathaniel as my second and to give her the chance to reconnect with her people.
I suggested that they should also float the idea of an archery competition among the clans, offering Vigil's Keep as the location. Having the best archers in friendly competition with each other would be an exhibition I hoped many would seek to observe. With any luck, a few friendships might form between elf and human, leading to fewer misunderstandings between them. I might even be able to recruit a couple of the best archers in the land into the Wardens.
They took Benjamin and left, leaving me alone. Well, the only Grey Warden at the Keep, that is. I was hardly alone.
Another messenger arrived a few days later from the west, from the Circle. I stared at the unopened missive for a long time before I summoned the courage to read it. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, there was no mention of recent unpleasant events. It was a request over Bryant's signature for Anders to return to the Circle to give a lecture on the Architect and its abilities. It seemed that the idea of a sentient, magic-using darkspawn with the power of a magister scared the templars of the Circle as much as it did me.
Sigrun and her team returned the day after the Circle's messenger, with a pair of veterans who wished to volunteer. They were both survivors of Ostagar, having stood with Cailan before being routed by the darkspawn. They'd lived with the Chasind for the rest of the Blight, learning their ways in return for helping them fight and hunt. With a desire for the comforts of city life and a chance to kill darkspawn, Malcolm and Brian had headed to Amaranthine to join the Wardens.
Sigrun vouched for their skills, making me very happy that my roster was slowly expanding. I wasn't the only one happy with her. The wagons she left with returned too, heavy and groaning with enough dragonbone, scales, organs and wing-membrane to have Wade almost worshipping her.
Of course, the whole dragon head was there too, though it was being dragged behind one of the wagons. Anders had worked out it could be turned over and dragged along upside down on the edges of the horns. It left furrows in any soft earth it passed over, but the idea had freed up a large amount of space in one of the wagons.
Space that was used most profitably. While Wade's reaction was almost obscene, Woolsey's was almost as bad; if only because of the usually straight-laced woman's loss of control. If doled out judiciously into the marketplace, she estimated that there was perhaps a thousand sovereigns worth material. When Anders told her that there was more to be extracted, she almost actually smiled.
Have you ever seen an accountant smile with anticipation? Scary.
o_ooo000ooo_o
Cassandra half-sighed, half growled. "I was rather hoping for the reason Anders left the Wardens."
Kathryn grinned wickedly. "Well, I needed to set up the scene."
The Seeker frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Well," the elf drawled, "after all that dragonbone arrived and we realised that we were pretty rich, I was in the mood to celebrate."
"Celebrate," Cassandra repeated, monotone.
"Yup. I'm sure you've noticed that I'm quite fond of gold. It stems from the Blight, where being destitute while attempting to save the world was quite the disadvantage."
Honey-coloured eyes narrowed. "Your Ferelden Grey Wardens are no longer financially disadvantaged," she snarled. "Not by any measure."
"Very true. At any rate, the wine flowed freely that night, and I felt the need to congratulate Anders personally."
"Ah. How very predictable," Cassandra sneered.
"You're blushing."
"I am not!"
The Warden nodded. "Yes you are. Now, how much detail would you like?"
Cassandra crossed her arms, silently praying to the Maker that her unwelcome heat in her cheeks would subside. "I would simply like the reason, rather than all the carnal details."
"Are you sure? I can't see how your report would be complete if you willingly refuse to hear-"
"Warden!"
"Fine. The reason. Boring, but fine." She took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. "Anders and I stumbled into my room and began getting intimate. Then, it happened."
o_ooo000ooo_o
I lay back on my bed, my arms around the back of Anders' neck, and my lips glued to his. Nude as we both were, his skin was hot against my own in the crisp, cold air of the unheated room. His strong, sculpted arms took most of his weight, leaving me able to writhe against him most satisfactorily.
He broke the kiss with a wicked grin. "Just stay right there," he whispered. "Don't move a muscle."
I blinked, wondering briefly where he thought I would go. He slipped down my body, trailing light kisses between my breasts, over my abdomen, and down to…
"Anders!" I screamed, clutching at the bedding beneath me.
No one had ever done that to me before. But just as I relaxed into the incredible sensation, my jiggling breasts attracted the attention of a particularly unwanted visitor.
Pain erupted across my chest as Ser Pounce landed, claws extended. I yelped and smacked the cat away, feeling the sensitive skin of my left nipple tear. My yelp turned into a full-fledged scream.
Thunder erupted through the door, appearing in the room in an instant, baying in anger. Ser Pounce shrieked and hissed and bolted. The blasted cat darted over my desk, shelves and my alchemical equipment, knocking over everything it its way. Thunder raced after, compounding the mayhem.
Anders screamed something, and leapt forward, wrestling my hands down. I looked at my fingers, discovering that they were somehow sparking madly. I looked up to see scorch marks along the wall.
Ser Pounce went through the open door as an orange blur. Thunder flew after, barrelling into some poor unfortunate soul on the other side and continued on without slowing a jot.
I jerked again as I instinctively cupped my injured breast, the sparks earthing themselves through the bleeding skin. Anders cursed, but his magic flared and soothed the pain.
Still bewildered, I looked at my room. The thick wooden door was ruined; from a little over half way down, there was hardly any door to speak of. Thunder had literally smashed his way through.
The rest was hardly any better. Of the dozens of flasks in my room, only a handful were whole. Pungent aromas filled the air, from poisons, healing salves, and lyrium. I suppose I should be thankful I didn't do my bomb-making in my room' I preferred to work in Dworkin's workshop. It was better ventilated, there was more room, and it had a very light roof.
Anders followed my gaze. "Well, that was… exciting. Sorry, by the way."
I reached out and grabbed his golden earring and pulled his ear close to my mouth. "If that cat isn't out of the Keep by the time I put my clothes on, I'm going to kill it."
He looked shocked at my tone and expression. "But… it was just an accident."
I glared straight into his eyes. "Get. Rid. Of. It."
o_ooo000ooo_o
The Warden lapsed into silence for a moment, breaking the flow of the tale.
Cassandra frowned. "Anders left the Grey Wardens because you made him get rid of his pet?" she asked, incredulous.
A morose nod was her answer. "Pretty much. He didn't leave straight away, of course. He promised that he would give Ser Pounce away to Delilah Howe; apparently she had found the demon-spawned feline adorable in the days following the siege. He packed his bags and left for the Circle without another word to me."
The Seeker paused, searching her memory. It seemed that Varric had indeed mentioned that Anders had been aggrieved at being forced to give up his cat by the Grey Wardens. It had been Kathryn Surana herself who had ordered him to do so? Interesting.
"I think I see what you mean by it being a compound mistake. Thank you for indulging me," she offered the elf. Though it went against every fibre of her being, she decided to offer something in return. "Do you wish to know of his movements after he left?"
Kathryn tilted her head to one side, considering the question. "Do you mean before he reached Kirkwall, or afterwards?"
Cassandra blinked. "Afterwards. I do not know how he came to be in Kirkwall."
The mage shrugged. "He delivered his lecture to the Circle, scaring their collective robes off. He then happily thumbed his nose at the templars and headed south."
"South?"
Kathryn nodded. "Yes, south. To visit his brother."
"Wilhelm's son," the Seeker breathed.
"Spot on. But whatever he was expecting from the family reunion, Matthias didn't meet it. He was pleased to discover that he had a brother, but a brother with a phylactery and a lot of templar interest? That was never going to fly with him, not with Amalia to look out for."
"Ah."
The elf nodded. "Ah indeed. Matthias gave him some food, clothes, a copy of his grimoire, and a firm goodbye. Anders felt that with both the Grey Wardens and the templars looking for him, Ferelden was a little too claustrophobic, and so he took ship for the Free Marches."
"Were you looking for him? I know for a fact that the templars were not."
The elf shook her head. "No. Merging with Justice turned him into a whining sod, and it also heightened his paranoia. But it did give him a sense of obligation to the downtrodden he did not possess before, so helping destitute refugees suited his new personality."
Cassandra rubbed her chin. "Anders set up his clinic because of how he changed with the Spirit of Justice?"
"Yes," the Warden confirmed. "Beforehand, he was a free spirit with a streak of independence and a determination to help himself first and foremost. After he arrived in Kirkwall, he tied himself down to one spot to help people with no resources. He'd only been there a month before your friend Hawke sought him out."
Cassandra nodded to herself, reconciling the timing of Anders' arrival with the end of the Champion's indenture. "I see. Dare I ask what you were doing during that period?"
Possibly the most evil smile the Seeker had ever witnessed slowly evolved on the Warden's face. "Oh, that is a fun story. After Anders left, I took some precautions to ensure the Antivan Crows would never bother me again."
o_ooo000ooo_o
I was hip-deep in ledgers and accounts when a knock at the door caused me to say, "Thank the Maker." I dropped my quill and leapt to my feet. "Enter!"
A guard opened the door. "Commander, the Teyrn of Highever approaches the Vigil."
I nodded. "Thank you. Dismissed." I slammed the ledgers shut and locked them away. I was already a week or so behind on them; another day wouldn't make a difference. Woolsey was so engrossed in setting up the taxation mechanisms for the settlement above Kal'Hirol that she probably wouldn't notice that the books weren't done yet.
I threw on a cloak, whistled for Thunder, and headed down through the Keep. Though the wind was cold, the sun was bright, and it was remarkably pleasant to stand at the foot of the stairs to the main Keep with a heavy cloak around my shoulders and the sun on my face.
A pair of comfortable carriages, each drawn by a pair of horses, led a large retinue of men-at-arms and wagons. Fergus wasn't just making a short trip. And he had some important people with him.
The leading carriage swung around as it entered the staging yard. Through the side window, I could make out a familiar profile. Fergus shook his head when he spotted me. He signalled the driver of the carriage to drive over towards me. He jumped out before the footman could collect and place the step, much to the man's dismay.
"You don't have to greet me in your staging yard, Kathryn," he said, striding over and grinning. "Nobles are quite used to being escorted inside to visit each other."
I shrugged, figuring that it was one of those mistakes that Zevran said I kept making. "I'll take any excuse to get away from the damned account books. It's good to see you, Fergus. Pleasant trip?"
His face darkened a bit. "Not even close. I was already in a complicated situation before whatever you did to the local criminal elements that persuaded them to take their business elsewhere. Our camp was attacked by a huge number of bandits," he emphasised the word as though not believing it, "on the edge of your arling. And the trip only got even more complicated afterwards."
I glanced over at Fergus' retinue. Two loaded carriages and three wagons would have presented a tempting target, despite the number of armed guards. The soldiers' armour certainly looked in need of the sort of maintenance that could not be conducted on the road. Wade would be working through the night to get them repaired.
A couple of familiar figures shook hands with each other. Fergus turned to see who I was looking at and made a face. "Ah. Yes."
Captain Francois and Nathaniel Howe finished their farewells, and then my second turned and made his way across the yard towards us. Nathaniel's face was a study in contrasts. His usual solemn expression was fixed rigidly, and his gaze did not waver from my eyes. "Commander," he greeted me formally.
"Nathaniel," I replied, noting the tension in the air between him and Fergus. I suppose being forced into close proximity with each other would be quite tense. "I wasn't expecting you back for a week yet. Where are Benjamin and Seranni?"
"Yes Commander," he agreed. "I decided to escort Teyrn Fergus to Vigil's Keep after his escort was reduced by a bandit attack. Benjamin and Seranni continued the mission."
Noting that Fergus was glaring at him rather than looking at me, I gave my second a clandestine wink. "Fergus said that there was a huge band of bandits. Were they near Soldier's Peak?"
"No, Commander. They were on the main road between Highever and Amaranthine."
Fergus grunted. "Can we go inside to discuss this? I need a bath. And then you and I are going to have a talk, Kathryn."
"Joy."
It took Fergus admirably little time to bathe and make himself presentable. A servant escorted him and his guard captain to what we were calling 'The Warden's Lounge'.
Nathaniel had already given me the bare bones of his scouting mission, but I was keen to get Fergus' perspective. He sat in his customary armchair near the fireplace, holding a glass of Antivan red, but rose respectfully to his feet as the teyrn entered the room.
"Ah, Fergus! Please, sit down. Wine?"
He nodded his acceptance, and looked around the room. "Thank you. I remember this room. What happened to all the trophies?"
"They're in storage, mostly. A few of the meaningful ones were sent back to Amaranthine with Delilah. Those animals that she or Thomas personally took down."
He regarded me curiously. "Why not display them?"
I gave him smile and a shrug. "Why would we bother displaying stag and lion heads when we take down High Dragons on a semi-regular basis. We could put up our own kills I suppose, but demon heads are too ugly and dragon skulls take up too much room." The exception, of course, was Sigrun and her dragon-skull bed. Wade had enough experience working dragonbone that he could disassemble the skull into manageable pieces. Once reassembled in Sigrun's room, it looked decidedly impressive. It took a bit of bravery to lie down on her bed, surrounded as you were by dozens of forearm-sized teeth. And you wouldn't want to roll around much.
He chuckled himself. "I suppose that makes sense. Still, I like what you've done with this room."
I looked around. The library downstairs in the main hall had been moved up here. On the walls without bookshelves were portraits of Grey Wardens I'd liberated from the compound in Denerim. Oghren had set up a sort of bar at one end, which he kept well stocked. I still didn't know where he got all his booze from.
"I suppose. It's homely, and comfortable, and all the Wardens are welcome to make use of it. It's not unusual to see Anders and Velanna arguing about spellcraft at one end and Drake and Hape arm-wrestling at the other."
Fergus sat down in a chair and gestured to me to take the one facing him. "I suppose you're wondering why I'm here," he said.
I shook my head. "You're on your way to Denerim and you want me to come along with you. You wouldn't have that much stuff in your wagons for a trip here, and there are enough spare seats in the two carriages that you and your valets could fit into one."
He blinked. "Er, yes, that's exactly right. But I do have an ulterior motive." He sighed and sipped his wine. "When the Circle first agreed to allow mages out for hire, I leapt at the chance. I requested three mages from Greagoir; a battlemage, a healer, and a pure scholar."
"A scholar?" I repeated. A battlemage and a healer I could understand.
"Howe's men left my family's library in a mess. The loss of Aldous was a blow, however any reputable scholar should have had no difficulty in organising it. But I wanted another mage. I know so few of them and know little about your abilities, you see."
In my peripheral vision, I saw Nathaniel stiffen at the mention of his father's men. I decided to push the conversation on, rather than linger on the sins of the past. "I can't see them letting you have three mages, teyrn or no."
He nodded. "True. I got two. Well, one mage and one scholar. I believe you know them; the mage is a contemporary of yours at the Circle. His name is Amell."
"Daylen?"
Fergus nodded. "That's him. He claims to be a competent healer talented in what he calls Creation Magic. Though from both the reports I have and my own observations, he outstrips that meagre description. And though he does not possess your flamboyant power and ability, he is no slouch when it comes to setting things on fire."
"I can attest to that," Nathaniel interrupted darkly, without looking directly at us.
Fergus winced. "That's true. He mistook Nathaniel for one of the bandits and tried scorching him. Fortunately, you train your Wardens well."
"What happened?" I asked. Nathaniel had given me his version, but I wanted to hear Fergus'.
The teyrn sighed. "We were within sight of the border of your arling when we were ambushed. The bandits were very organised; I believe their leaders had some military training. They targeted my officers first. Francois was hit in the first volley, as were his two sergeants." He growled deep in his throat as he rubbed his eyes with frustration. "My men worked admirably under pressure with little leadership, but it took precious moments to get them responding correctly. Half were down before we could mount a proper defence."
I leaned back, hands laced and in front of my face. "Interesting. You don't think they were bandits, do you?"
He shook his head. "No. At least, not all of them. We were in a very precarious position when the bandits on one side of us started dying. The arrows from their position tapered off, allowing my men-at-arms to focus on the other." He sighed deeply, as though it pained him to describe it. "Howe-" Fergus paused, took a breath and continued, "I mean, Nathaniel single-handedly killed close to a third of their number, perhaps a full score, saving me and my men."
I glanced over at my second. "And you got burned?"
He grimaced. "Yes. After the last of bandits on my side were routed, I stepped out of cover to assist Teyrn Fergus' men. Amell thought I was attacking, and blasted me with fire."
Fergus looked at me, shock on his face. "Did you not just hear me say that he killed perhaps twenty men by himself?"
I shrugged. "Yes. And?"
That seemed to stump him. "Well, I… Most people can't do that, Kathryn."
"Yes, well, we're Grey Wardens." It helped of course that we were equipped with weapons of such quality that even Kings had difficulty acquiring them. And Avernus' alchemy gave us an advantage not available to anyone else.
That and Nate was almost as skilled as Zevran in killing unnoticed. He told me that he had half down before they even noticed he was there.
A slight smile played over Nate's lips as Fergus processed that. "I see. Well, I wish to formally thank you, Nathaniel Howe, for saving my life."
Nate swallowed, but nodded his head. "I thank you, Teyrn Fergus, but that is not necessary."
Fergus sighed. "We never used to speak so formally, did we?"
Nate's eyes lowered to the floor. "No, my lord."
Fergus took a deep breath, and let it out in a pained sigh. "Nathaniel… Nate… I know you are not your father. And I don't blame you for what happened."
Nate nodded glumly. "But no Howe will ever be welcome in Highever again, will they? Twelve generations we've served and governed, and now the name Howe is blackened and will live in infamy."
Fergus bit the inside of his cheek. "In all honesty, had you asked me that last month, I'd have agreed with you. But I've seen with my own eyes what you are prepared to do to protect people, and I know that you managed to keep the Vigil safe against an entire army of darkspawn. I am honoured to know you, Nathaniel Howe."
Nate jerked his head up and stared at Fergus in shock. "I…"
Fergus held up a hand. "Please, I know that things cannot go back to the way they were. Politically and personally. And the Howe name is darkened, perhaps, but not blackened. Delilah is well thought of in Amaranthine, and you are considered a hero by almost everyone in the arling."
With a slow nod, Nate smiled. "Thank you, Fergus."
"You're welcome. And Kathryn, if you don't mind me interfering in your running of the arling, I'd be amenable to Delilah becoming Bann of Amaranthine City."
I gasped. As much as I thought such a nomination was a good idea, politically it could not work. "A Howe as Bann? Really?"
Nate's eyes didn't move from Fergus'. "Delilah has taken Albert's name. A child of Rendon Howe without the Howe name."
Fergus nodded. "Yes. Do you think she would accept?"
"I hope so," Nate replied, earnestly. "Albert is a good, gentle man, but he does not have the resources to support her in the manner she deserves."
"Especially now that she has to care for a demon," I muttered darkly.
Fergus jumped. "What?!"
"Ignore her," Nate said with a half-smile. "Anders asked her to look after his cat. It was either that or Kathryn was going to turn Ser Pounce into a belt."
"Ah, not a cat person I take it," Fergus said with a relieved smile.
"Something like that," I agreed. "Was that what you wanted to speak to me about?"
He shook his head, a bit sadly. "No, as a matter of fact. I need some help for my mage and his friend."
A faint suspicion formed. "The scholar, she wouldn't be a dwarf by the name of Dagna, would she?"
"Yes! How did you know that?"
I couldn't help but smile. "Last time I was at the Circle, Dagna mentioned Daylen. I got the impression that they were good friends, and perhaps a bit more."
Fergus nodded. "That's true. They're inseparable. That's my dilemma. Before his death, Tavish announced that all seconded mages were to be branded apostates if they did not immediately return. Some templars tried forcing Amell back to the Circle. There was some unpleasantness; he was in his clinic at the time and had just saved the life of a young woman. Now, I have two fugitives on my hands. I won't send them back to the Circle, even with the new Knight-Commander in charge. It's been made clear that they will be executed for resisting templars. Not even King Alistair's standing offer to enlist in the army would save them, as they are being sought as murderers, not apostates. I am rather hoping you can help."
I scratched my head. "I'd be delighted to recruit them, but if they don't want to be Grey Wardens, I can offer them sanctuary at Soldier's Peak. I plan to establish a Circle of Magi there without templar interference."
Fergus seemed to relax. "That would be best. Dagna can't pick up a weapon without hurting herself. I don't imagine she would be of much value to an order of warriors."
A dwarf with a love of everything magical and no preconceived notions on the subject of blood magic? I can't imagine why he thought she'd be of no value to me. She'd be running Soldier's Peak if I had my way.
The possibility of being free of templar attention was enough for Daylen and Dagna to both agree to become Grey Wardens. My heart was in my throat as they underwent the Joining. Dagna insisted on going first, eager as ever to actually be part of a real-live magical ritual. Daylen gave a cry as she collapsed backwards, but he had enough self-discipline to remain still.
It was odd, but I fancied that Dagna's features had a slight smile to them as her subconscious mind was introduced to the Fade.
Daylen drank fearlessly, and survived as well. I sat with them as they struggled through the initial dreams and ravenous hunger. It occurred to me that Daylen and Jowan were going to have to put aside their differences if they were going to work together.
Oghren returned before I left with Fergus, and after an hour or so with his ever-closer-to-popping wife, volunteered to escort the new Wardens to Soldier's Peak. With the roster slowly growing, we had the resources to have a few scouting teams out in the countryside.
Nathaniel was happy to look after the Keep and its paperwork while I was away. I suspected that it was more to keep me from stuffing too much up than any particular fondness for paperwork. Still, he was polite enough to deny it.
It did not escape my notice that many of the Keep's inhabitants looked relieved at the news that I was going to be absent for a few weeks.
The trip south was quite sedate and calm. The quarrying in the Wending Wood continued apace, with nothing bothering the masons beyond the occasional wolf pack. I was not obliged to unleash my magic on anyone, though I did ward our campsites thoroughly. It was only a few days on the road before we caught sight of the city.
Denerim had visibly changed in the weeks since I'd left. The damage to the outer fortifications had mostly been repaired. Cracked and shattered stone had been replaced. I could see the tips of three buildings enclosed with wooden scaffolding behind the walls.
Our party slowed and drew to a halt on the muddy thoroughfare. Nearer to the main gate, dozens of wagons were trying to either enter or leave the city. Almost all trying to enter the city were filled with either food or building materials. Several were in the process of being searched for contraband by city guards. Drivers sat idly in wagons loaded with timber and stone as their animals munched their feed, waiting patiently for their turn. Merchants argued with a bored guard officer, who ignored them until a coin or two were pressed into his hand. Animals clucked, mooed, bawled, barked and, when they decided the place just wasn't smelly enough, fertilized the mud.
It looked to be a remarkably noisy way to spend an afternoon.
Fergus sighed and shook his head. "His Majesty's obstinate policy of rebuilding the city at all costs is having an impact, I see," he muttered just loud enough that I could hear him.
I grinned at him. "You think the wagons carrying foodstuffs should have precedence?"
He winced. "I think he should have used all that stone and upgraded the road before the walls, if he planned to have this amount of heavy-laden traffic. This is the main entrance to the capital, and weeks of wagons heavy with stone have churned it so muddy that no one is moving anywhere."
I stood up and leaned out the carriage window to see a little better. "Can you see your valet?"
The teyrn shook his head. "No, I wonder where… wait, there he is," he said, pointing towards the portcullis.
I followed Fergus' finger. Half-hidden behind the press of bodies and animals was a small alcove recessed into the wall by the gate. It variously served as the guard room, office, dressing room, armoury and makeshift jail – depending on necessity and time of day. Barely two people could fit into it without touching. Fergus' manservant Matthew emerged from the crowded niche and began the squelchy trek towards us.
His expression did not inspire confidence. He bowed and said, "My Lord! Apologies, but the guard at the gate refuses to clear the way for you. He claims to be under orders that wagons containing building materials be given priority. He claims to have the authority of the crown in this."
Fergus made a face and turned to me. "I suppose you could clear the way with a spell if you wanted to."
I nodded. "Easily. But that would probably cause a bit more property damage than you're willing to entertain. And the noise of the resulting stampede would spoil our dinner with Alistair and Anora."
"Droll, Kathryn, very droll." He sighed and turned back to Matthew. "Fetch the guard captain. I'll have words with him."
"Why?" I asked as Matthew bowed his acceptance and headed back through the mud. "He's just going to hold you here until you bribe him. Teyrn or not, you have no authority. You're just a wealthier mark to him."
Fergus looked over his shoulder at our entourage. "What do you suggest then? Wait here for the crowd to clear? Go inside single file? Leave the baggage train outside the walls?"
I snorted. "Nothing so drastic," I replied, reaching for my purse.
"You're going to bribe the captain?" Fergus blurted in disbelief.
"No. I'm going to piss him off."
He was far too much the diplomat to let his expression betray his confusion, but his blank stare was enough. I winked at him and then leapt out of the carriage, close to the nearest wagons. "How much to jump in front of you?" I asked the driver.
The rail-thin man, with an unkempt beard and perhaps a dozen teeth, looked me up and down. His eyes widened in recognition. "'Ere! You're the bloomin' Grey Warden, ain't cha?"
I nodded. "Well spotted. I'd like to get into the city to give my report to the king. Would you accept a silver for us to take your spot in the queue?"
His eyes bulged. Back at the Vigil, a silver coin was a reasonable day's wage to a wagon driver. And that was in an arling where banditry was rife. "A whole silver?" he blurted.
"Fine, two silvers. That's my final offer," I said, deliberately misinterpreting him.
Greedy eyes lit up. "You're on!"
I nodded, but held up a hand. "Just a moment then; I'll make sure the rest of the line agrees too." I strode up the line, offering a pair of silver coins to each driver to let us ahead. One shifty-looking fellow near the head of the queue tried holding out for more, but I shrugged and said loudly that the whole deal was off. The thought of being stuck in the one spot with several burly men who had just lost a bonus because of him quickly changed his mind.
The captain of the guard tried interrupting to get his cut, but I ignored him. Much to his impotent indignation.
It probably cost me a bit more to pay the drivers to let us past than paying the captain in the first place. But I had a fundamental objection to letting someone profit from being obstinate. Making a dozen, hard-working lives a bit better was much more palatable than enriching a corrupt bastard. I kicked the mud off my shoes and jumped back into the carriage next to Fegus.
As a member of the nobility, Fergus and his entourage were not obliged to submit to a customs search, and we trotted on through the rapidly-cleared gate.
"I'm not sure whether to laugh or chastise you for your unorthodox methods," Fergus chuckled next to me. "You realise that the gate captain is just going to extort the silvers from the drivers."
I shrugged. "Perhaps. He could certainly try. But most of the drivers are not the owners of the goods in their wagons, so they don't care if there's a delay; not when their drinking money is safe. They've got a bonus, and they'll be quite happy to sit until the crowd clears. Who knows, maybe he'll end up with fewer ill-gotten coins today."
The slow trek through the city gave me time to mentally review my report. Alistair was not going to be happy with some of the things I had done.
"Let me just recap," Alistair said wearily, rubbing his forehead. "You had a noble executed for murder, without a witness to the deed. You-"
I held up a hand. "He was covered in blood and caught fleeing the scene."
Alistair's eyes flashed momentarily at being interrupted. He was becoming used to command, but had still not reached the point where he would actually make decisions himself. "But you had no witnesses," he reiterated.
I leaned forward, not the least bit intimidated. "If anyone else had been found in the same situation, they'd have been executed without a witness needed," I pointed out.
"But he was a noble," he almost whined.
I covered my face with a hand. "And it was a noble who was brutally murdered, Alistair. Or was that fact conveniently left out by the complainants?"
His face coloured. Evidently, I'd hit a sore spot. Fergus cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, unconventional as they were, Arlessa Kathryn's decisions were legal. And don't forget that Temmerly was involved in the conspiracy against her."
Alistair hammered the table in front of him with a fist. "Damn it! Temmerly's family are claiming that the conspiracy began with his execution. That it was Kathryn's ham-fisted methods of justice that brought them together."
Eamon rose to his feet and bowed to Alistair. "Majesty, if I may. The claims made by Ser Temmerly's uncle are not chronologically consistent. He claims to have come to Denerim to warn you of the brewing conspiracy, yet his driver almost flogged two horses to death driving the carriage to Denerim. While it cannot be confirmed, I believe he must have left his manor after he received the news that Kathryn had survived the assassination attempt."
Fergus snorted. "Not to mention that it's highly unlikely a conspiracy moves so quickly. And it is both interesting and telling that he fled to the capital, rather than Highever. Had he truly wished to swear out a complaint, or present evidence of the conspiracy, he should have come to me, as Kathryn's liege lord."
Alistair rubbed his eyes wearily. "I just can't believe the trouble you got into in only a month!"
"Six weeks," I corrected.
He glared at me. "I shudder to think what would have happened if you were still there." He raised a hand and started ticking off on his fingers. "A Revered Mother and a Knight-Captain, arrested, the Chantry in an uproar. A nobleman executed on your order. Seven nobles killed by your hand. A peasant rebellion. Your major port city almost destroyed."
Fergus raised an eyebrow. "You think her unsuccessful?" he asked pointedly, foregoing using a title for the first time I'd heard.
Alistair frowned. "What do you mean?"
Fergus sighed. "Your Majesty, you've either only received the negative news, or are only looking at it in a negative light."
"There's good news in this?"
Fergus was diplomatic enough that his expression did not flicker, but I could sense his frustration. "Yes. Kathryn has taken an arling shattered by mismanagement, war and crime - one that that even the best predictions had it being a drain on the treasury for years - and turned it into a viable concern. In six weeks.
"Banditry within the arling is almost eradicated. In six weeks. The darkspawn have all but vanished, with the breaking of the siege of Vigil's Keep. All in six weeks. Merchants from all along the Coastlands are sending ships of goods to Amaranthine, drawn by the rumours of dwarven gold. In six weeks. Do I need to continue?"
Continue he did. Fergus had my back, refusing to let Alistair blame me for the negative consequences of my actions. Eventually, demands on the King's time intruded and he had to postpone the rest of the debriefing. Fergus and I were escorted to our quarters for the evening.
Once alone with Thunder, I set about my plans for the Crows. In my chest I had some preserved items that were going to come in useful for intimidating people used to being the intimidators.
The shape shifting spells Morrigan taught me were impressive in their scope and power. Yet for all her ability and power, her lack of formal education was apparent. She never considered the obvious (at least, obvious to me) secondary applications. Spells that adjusted mass were not unknown in the Circle, but they tended to be short-lived elemental conjurations. The shape shifting spells could be modified to include your clothes, that was a given. But with a bit of extra thought, you could extend that ability a bit beyond the original limited thinking.
With the addition of mouse and mabari fur to the rim, I could include a sack in my transformations, and carry several large objects with me as either animal.
It was the work of only moments to leave the palace unnoticed as a mouse. Once on the streets, I shifted into the form of a hound and trotted to the marketplace. Shifting to a mouse again, I wriggled through the various cracks, knotholes and gaps in the walls of a particular building. A rodent could go just about anywhere undetected in a city – so long as there were no cats along the route.
A few minutes of hurried scampering put me directly in the heart of the local Crow operation, without alerting the guards to my presence. I silently returned to my own form, and carefully lowered the fur-rimmed sack I carried to the floor.
Ignacio was sleeping on an elaborate bed, one hand under the pillow and no doubt clasped around the hilt of a dagger or knife. I carefully breathed a spell of sleep, dropping it so that it would cover both the slumbering figure on the bed and the inevitable guard outside his door.
A soft thump on the far side of the door indicated the success of my spell. I divested the sleeping Crow of his weapons; three daggers and a long poniard. How he slept without perforating himself was a mystery I'd have to solve at a later date. I bound his hands and tied a loose slipknot around his neck. The other end of that rope went over the rafters and tied off on the foot of the bed.
I cast a barrier over the inside of the door, so that if we were to be interrupted, I'd have time to escape.
Time for action. I placed the sack on the bed, jammed one knee on his chest and pulled down on the rope. Instantly, his eyes snapped open and he tried scrabbling at his neck with bound hands. I let a flicker of primal energy light the candles on his armoire. From the colour of his face, I was pulling down a bit too hard on the rope.
I slowly eased the pressure, allowing Ignacio to draw a ragged breath. His face faded to merely scarlet. His dark eyes latched onto mine, and recognition sparked in their depths. He relaxed his body and his expression.
I leaned forward. "The Crows accepted a contract on me," I snarled, my lips inches away from his face. "I want to know when our mutual, non-aggression pact was put aside."
Ignacio had obviously faced down those who wished him dead many times before; despite his surprise and vulnerability, his serene expression barely flickered. He opened his mouth, and wheezed, "It… has… not," his voice strained by the pressure on his throat.
"Oh really?" I retorted. I gave my head a slight incline to the right. "Reach into that bag there. Pull out what's inside."
Gingerly, the Crow slipped his bound hands into the bag and winced at what his hand touched. He pulled out a severed head by the hair.
"Care to identify him?" I whispered into his ear.
Ignacio swallowed again. I could hear the saliva as it slipped past the rope. He carefully turned the head around until the permanently lopsided face was towards him. A few seconds later, he wheezed out, "Alario. Cellion Alario."
I pulled down a little harder on the rope, tightening the noose. "Cellion, eh? Well, Cellion here tried shooting at me with a crossbow a few weeks ago. He and half a dozen of his friends tried killing me. Perhaps you'd care to explain how that matches with your claim?"
Ignacio gave a spluttering cough. He drew a ragged breath and said, "An approach… was made… after you… went north. I… turned it down." His eyes swivelled around in their sockets to look at me. "I thought… you knew."
I paused at the unexpected response. Why would he think I knew he had been approached? Did I know the person who approached him? That was unlikely. No, for someone like Ignacio to make that assumption, I'd have had to have killed the person who approached him.
The silence extended as I pondered that conclusion. Had I killed the individual who had approached Ignacio? I couldn't think of any specific person that would fit the theory. Logically, it would have had to have been after I left Denerim for Amaranthine, but also quite some time before the rebellion, and I had only really killed bandits and darkspawn in that period.
Unless… perhaps it wasn't me who had killed the person. What if it had been one of my allies? Most likely it was Zev-
"Tavish," I snorted, releasing the pressure enough that the assassin could breathe without rasping. "Knight-Commander Tavish approached you. Or one of his flunkies."
Ignacio nodded, with the care of someone who knows that despite the respite, the rope around his neck could very easily be tightened on a whim. He coughed and cleared his throat. In a rough whisper he said, "Yes. I sent a message to you, but my messenger has not returned. Perhaps bandits or darkspawn prevented his return. Your pet killed Tavish, so I assumed that you received my message of his attempt to employ us."
I grinned at him, silently wondering how Zevran would take to being called my pet. I upended the sack onto the bedspread, sending a couple of other heads rolling out. A couple bounced off each other with a percussive 'tonk', fell off the bed and rolled across the floor. "Despite your claim, these heads say that the contract was accepted, don't they?"
"Not by me. Alario belonged to a different cell. Different master." He shook his head with a theatrical expression of mournful despair. "Silly man. Greedy man."
I wasn't sure I believed him entirely, but it was a believable explanation. I grinned nastily at him. "Tell me where I can find this… silly man."
Four and a half crowded hours later, a thumping on my bedroom door and Thunder's immediate responsive barks pulled me from my usual nightmare. I'd watched genlocks threaten me in my dreams for so long now I could almost sleep through it, as it were. I blinked the dried tears from my eyes as the pounding continued. "Kathryn!" shouted a familiar voice. "Kathryn, are you in there?" Thunder's barks ceased to be threatening and became excited.
I kicked off the covers and threw a thick woollen blanket around my shoulders. "Stop your pounding, Alistair," I snapped. "I'm coming."
I drew back the bolt and opened the door. Alistair stood outside, attired in a similar manner as me - a woollen cloak over his sleepwear. Eamon stood behind his right shoulder - with a guard behind him holding a flaming torch. Thunder immediately stuck his head into Alistair's side, fishing for an ear-scratch.
"Is something the matter?" I yawned.
The King sighed on seeing me. "You're all right," he said, relief evident in his voice. Unconsciously, he dropped a hand to Thunder's head and scratched my dog's ears.
I raised an eyebrow. "Of course I'm all right. Why wouldn't I be?"
He opened his mouth, but suddenly looked a bit abashed. "I, er, well, that is…"
I rubbed my face wearily. "Spit it out or let me go back to bed."
The guard behind Eamon cleared his throat. "Um, it was me, Commander."
I blinked at the voice. "Pickering?"
The young guard nodded and shifted the flaming torch he held so that it illuminated his face. "Yes, Commander."
I yawned again. "All right. What exactly did you do?"
He glanced at Alistair first, then at Eamon. At their nods, he cleared his throat. "Perhaps not here?"
I stepped to one side, allowing the trio entry into my chamber. Thunder jumped up and down excitedly as people he recognised as friends were allowed entry.
I looked at Alistair and gestured towards the chair at the desk. "Please?"
He shook his head. "No thanks, Kat. I'll stand. Eamon? You should sit."
The greying noble offered his thanks, and took the chair. The groan as he lowered his body onto the padded seat turned into a sigh.
I frowned. Eamon looked to have aged a dozen years since taking up the post of Chancellor.
"Er, Majesty?" Pickering said questioningly, looking at Alistair for permission to speak.
"Go ahead."
He nodded and turned to me. "Um, the Antivan Crows in the city have marked you for death. They've put an open contract out on you."
"Bugger," I said, covering my eyes with a hand. "That's pretty much the exact opposite of what I intended."
Alistair blinked owlishly at me. "What?" he blurted.
I took a deep breath for the exposition. "I went and had a little chat with Ignacio earlier. He pointed me in the direction of the Crow Master who took the contract on me. I then went and had a little chat with him."
"Did you just talk with him, or did you threaten him?" Alistair demanded.
Pickering gave Alistair a pained look. "She killed him. Pretty gruesomely."
"Of course she did," the King said wearily, covering his eyes with a hand. "And she didn't bother hiding her identity, did she?"
I poked him in the chest. "She is right here."
He rubbed his chest. "Well? Did you bother hiding your identity? Did you?"
I rocked my head from side to side. "Well, no. But you were being impolite."
Eamon growled. "Perhaps we could remain focused on the issue at hand? What did you learn, Kathryn?"
I shrugged. "That Tavish paid the Crows to accept a contract on me. A flattering sum too, to tell the truth."
Alistair glared at me. "How much?" he asked in a very slow, deliberate tone.
"Two thousand sovereigns."
Eamon started coughing at that. Pickering's eyes widened amusingly, while Alistair simply stared at me, a frown on his face. "Are you certain it was Tavish? I can't believe… how would he be able to put his hands on that sort of coin?"
I shrugged again. "Ignacio was sure it was Tavish making the offer. So much so that when he died under suspicious circumstances at the Circle, Ignacio's Crows just assumed that I was behind the death, and that I was making a point. But after Tavish's man was turned down by Ignacio, he approached another Crow Master – Lucius –who did accept the contract."
Pickering cleared his throat. "Lucius is a – er, was an influential man. He has three sons here in Denerim – all high ranking Crows – who have declared the Commander to be under an open contract."
I looked at the young guard curiously. "Hang on. Just how do you know that? Did you find a snitch willing to sell that information that quickly?"
He swallowed, and looked over at Alistair. He nodded. "Tell her. She should know."
"If you wish, Majesty," Pickering replied politely. "I am, er, well, I'm sort of learning espionage skills."
I blinked. "Sort of learning?"
He nodded, and gave me a wry grin. "Zevran is training me. That day I took you to the alienage? He paid for those thugs to attack us; as sort of a test for me."
I nodded. That explained the relatively tiny amount in the attacker's purses. A minor mystery solved. "Right. You passed, I take it?"
"Yes, Commander. He wanted to see how I reacted to being attacked by surprise, and he knew that you would keep me safe. Anyway, he's been teaching me things he learned from the Crows, including the way they operate. I've sort of infiltrated one of their bases as a servant. Bringing them food and supplies."
I raised an eyebrow. "They haven't spotted you?"
He shook his head. "Zevran says they haven't. Mostly because I'm not trying to push my way into their ranks, just ingratiate myself as a relatively trustworthy servant."
I nodded. "Okay. I can see that. So you're spying on them, and you found out about the open contract."
The guard nodded his head. "Yes. I just don't know why they moved so quickly. It makes no sense. The Crows are all terrified of you, but the reward will ensure that some of them will make the attempt."
I smirked. "They might have a bit of trouble paying anyone who makes the attempt."
Pickering shook his head. "No. They have the two thousand sovereigns that Tavish paid to Lucius. The Crows keep their clients' fee in escrow until the contract is completed. At least, that's what Zevran told me. Only then is it delivered to the guild. That way, if for whatever reason they cannot complete the contract, they can return it."
My smirk widened. "No, as a matter of fact, they don't. Have the coin, that is."
All three men suddenly focused their gaze on me with an amusing intensity. "Are you saying that you stole two thousand sovereigns when you killed Lucius?" Eamon demanded.
I looked at him, my face blank. "Of course not." I waited until they processed that declaration before continuing. "I stole almost three thousand sovereigns when I killed Lucius. My contract wasn't the only one outstanding. And he had the key to the vault on him. It was almost as if the Maker himself was slapping his leg and saying, 'Do it, Kathryn!'"
Eamon slammed his fist down on my desk. "Damn it Kathryn! That's why they want you dead! It's got nothing to do with Tavish, or Lucius, or Ignacio. It's the money they want back. If they renege on the contract to kill you, they need to return it! Without it, they are being forced to kill you!"
I frowned. "That makes sense. I didn't think about that."
He snarled at me. "Obviously. What exactly were you thinking?"
I narrowed my eyes at the arl, letting my expression reveal how close I was to snapping. "Damn it Eamon, I was making a point. If one of them accepts a contract on me, I won't just kill those sent after me. No, I will hunt down and kill the Master who accepted the contract. And I will steal the fee too. So if anyone else is tempted, it's their arse on the line, not just their flunkies' arses."
Alistair covered his whole face. "Well, regardless, we need to get you out of Denerim. Pickering says that it's not just Crows who will come after you. As an open contract, the Crows will pay anyone who kills you. I'll organise an escort for you-"
"No you won't," I interrupted firmly. "I'm not leaving. They've upped the ante, that's all. If I run now, all my work tonight will have been rendered worthless."
Alistair stared at me, horror mounting on his face. "What are you going to do?"
I grinned at him evilly. "I am going to scare the shit out of every last Crow south of Antiva. I am going to annihilate Lucius' three sons. Then I'm going to destroy their lieutenants and kill any Crow who tries to fight. Then I'm going to steal every coin they have, slaughter their pets, pull their houses down, burn the remains, and piss on the ashes."
Silence greeted that declaration. "That's all?" Alistair eventually asked in a weak voice.
I grinned and nodded. "Of course that's all. Anything more would just be extremism."
o_ooo000ooo_o
AN: Thanks to my reviewers - Pintsizedpsycho, Nightbrainzz, MB18932, The Lord of Nothing, Arsinoe de Blassenville and Jormund Elver.
And that's how I figure Anders left. In DA2 he's pissed at having to give up Ser Pounce, so I went with that. Hope you all enjoy it.