Chapter 23

Finally, in the last tome of a large pile, Orsino came across an interesting and relevant text that explained a lot of things – disturbing things, to be frank. 'Of course it had to be the last book,' he murmured irritably. 'Why must it always be the last volume you grab to find what you are searching for? There should be a law against it.'

He clenched his jaw. Mind magic. Sweet Blood of Andraste, the sneaky devil had been using the extremely risky and outside Tevinter forbidden art of mind magic! No wonder he had obtained access to the Gallows so easily. No wonder he had so easily agreed with his dangerous plan to talk with Anders on the Wounded Coast. Now he understood why he had fallen for Marius, while at the same time he felt uneasy around the lad. The boy must be extremely talented if he hadn't noticed what he was doing.

But there had to be a spell to counteract his perilous enchantment. There always was one.

He vehemently looked for clues. It didn't help the text was handwritten in Arcanum, the old language of Tevinter. It had been a long time since he had had practice with the ancient lingo.

He was so absorbed with reading, he almost jumped out of his chair when a knock rang on his door. His heart shot into his throat. He stared fearfully at the entrance. What if it was that new Guard Captain, Mettin? Or worse, Meredith? If one of those two caught him browsing dubious books, especially at this confusing and dangerous time, the consequences could be catastrophic for the whole Tower. He could pretend he wasn't in, but feared that would only lead to his door getting crashed.

'Enter,' he thus called, trying to keep the quivering of his voice to a minimum, 'it's open.'

The door opened to reveal Ser Thrask. Orsino puffed out a deep held breath but his relief was of short duration. Carefully the Templar closed the door behind him. He walked over to the desk, rested his hands on the surface and leant over. 'I believe we have to talk,' he said with a stern look in his eyes. 'Urgently.'

Orsino blinked in surprise. He had automatically put his hand over the text he had been deciphering, though he could hardly imagine Ser Thrask would be able to read the words upside down, moreover because they were written in that ancient language. 'About what? You don't really think I have the influence to do something about the situation? Now Meredith has removed Cullen from her side and isn't even willing to listen to the Grand Cleric, I highly doubt she will take anything I put forward to heart.'

Thrask smiled nastily. 'That's not what I want to talk about.' He shot him a piercing look and held his eyes captivated. An involuntary shiver crept down the First Enchanter's spine. 'I want to talk about Marius.'

Orsino stiffened. 'What,' nervously he cleared his throat, 'what do you mean?'

'Don't try to fool me,' Thrask spat. 'You know bloody well what I mean. I know you met the young man. I know you went with him to the Wounded Coast to meet Anders. And I think you damn well know he is a master in the art of mind magic.' He paused for a moment before he launched his last attack. 'And I know he comes from Tevinter. As do you undoubtedly know as well.' He kept the First Enchanter imprisoned in his firm stare. 'A powerful mage from Tevinter suddenly happens to show up in Kirkwall and shortly after trouble starts,' he said in a low threatening voice. 'Explain.'

Orsino deflated under the weight of the other man's gaze, although he was still reluctant to divulge his share in the drama. 'To be honest, I discovered the mind magic part just a few minutes ago,' he attempted innocently to buy time. 'How did you find out?'

'Don't try to avoid my question,' Thrask bit menacing. 'I want to know the truth. What the hell have you been scheming?!'

Orsino squirmed in his chair. 'Don't you want to sit down and have a drink?'

'No, I don't,' Thrask hissed. 'Get out with it.'

Orsino stood up and started to pace the room. He wanted very hard to find a way out but recognized there was none. He had to come out into open. 'I, er, I sent a letter to the counsel of senators in Tevinter; in return they sent Marius,' he confessed eventually, arming himself against Thrask's predictable reaction.

But Thrask wasn't able to react at all; this was so immense and incomprehensible, he at first had no answer. 'Why?' was all he could finally manage.

Orsino made a feeble attempt at defending his outrageous decision. 'Just like I did, you must have seen the situation in this city was getting out of hand,' he said, aggravated. 'I only wanted to put a halt to Meredith's ever more increasing madness. To save the mages. To save Kirkwall.'

Thrask sat down after all; he didn't trust his sudden wobbly knees. 'So you thought it would be wise to surrender the city to the Tevinters, to deliver us on a silver platter to that nation of greedy blood mages. To return their former property?!' He had a hard time not to shout.

'I had to do something!' Orsino wailed. 'Who could I trust?!'

'You stupid idiot,' snarled the Templar, with great difficulty keeping his voice down. 'You should have known better; there were plenty other solutions instead of inviting those vipers!' He rubbed his face. 'You're going to pay for this,' he promised him darkly, 'but right now you're going with me to Cullen. Perhaps we can find a way to repair the damage you have done.'

Hawke got alarmed by the sound of heavy booted feet and ringing armour, announcing the arrival of at least six Templars. She had been slumbering, despite her worries and sorrows. But in the end she had become exhausted of fretting about the seemingly hopeless situation, of her concerns about Fenris's fate and the lingering sickness that had sustained even after the friendly Templar – Marcia was her name she had learned – had brought water and food that didn't contain that cursed magebane. She assumed it was a strong after-effect of the combination of that pungent gas and the disgusting herb. Even the mere thought of inhaling the one and imbibing the other, made her retch again several times over. And in the end she had slumped on the ascetic cot and, despite the situation but completely exhausted, had drifted off. Until this foreboding sound of aggressive marching feet woke her.

At first she pretended she still slept, but she couldn't keep up the appearance when someone slammed hard on the bars of her prison with a gauntleted hand. 'Wake up, you lazy whore,' the someone growled, 'it is time for your conviction.'

Albran made a show of getting up, rubbing her face and flexing her fingers. 'Conviction?' she drawled. 'Interesting. I always thought there had to be a trial first.' She tried very hard to keep a strong facade and not to give in to despair. Surely he was just making an attempt to frighten her?

'Traitors don't deserve a trial,' the Templar barked. He had the word "bully" practically written all over him. Besides that, he wore the insignia of the grade of Knight Captain. Not a good sign. Marcia had already told her what happened with Cullen, so she wasn't surprised to find a new Captain. She was, however, not very pleased with this substitute. He opened the entrance and cautiously approached her. 'Stick out your hands,' he ordered.

Hawke cocked her head. 'And why would I do that.' She knew she didn't stand a chance but refused to go down without a fight.

The five other Templars drew their swords. It made quite a noise. The born bully made a gesture towards her that indicated he used his smite ability, a power fed by the blighted lyrium to numb mages Albran just stared at him, with difficulty suppressing the urge to burst out laughing.

'Yes,' she observed drily, 'I would definitely have used my overwhelming powers of stone fist, or fire ball, or whatever spell, against you, if you wouldn't have deprived me of my non-existent magic capacities. Maker, how pathetic. You're nothing but Meredith's lapdog, aren't you, not being able to think with your own brain. What a pity. Even a marbari knows better.' For a moment the newly assigned Knight Captain was at a loss and she made advantage of that. She smirked cynically. 'Big boy. Good dog. Now shush. Lie down and play dead.'

The very moment the new Knight Captain remembered his status. It earned her a backhanded slap across her face. She staggered but managed to stay upright.

'Of course,' she taunted him while blood filled her mouth, 'turn to violence. It's the only way you Templars can think anyhow, working brain or not.' The next blow hurled her against the wall and before she knew it she was handcuffed. Very clever. Happy now? Use that blather mouth of yours one more time and Meredith doesn't even have to make an effort to kill you. You'll be dead already.

The freshly appointed Knight Captain pulled her roughly on her feet and pushed her out of her cell. 'Very soon your witty remarks will be silenced forever,' he said, threateningly.

Cullen was sitting on the uncomfortable bed in his new room. It was small, much smaller than the airy and relatively luxurious chamber he had occupied over the past years. But that was at this moment the least of his problems. His head was still reeling with everything that had happened. Things had gone out of hand so fast he could hardly grasp it. He sighed, got up and started to unpack the box containing his personal belongings he had placed on the rickety table.

'Knight Captain?' He turned sharply to catch the desolated face of the young Templar who had addressed him. He remembered him well. Keran. The young promising Templar recruit who Albran Hawke herself had rescued from the clutches of that deranged blood mage Tarohne and her accomplices, years ago. He had been watching him closely for a while but it had become obvious before long the boy hadn't been possessed by demons. He had proved to be a very keen and devoted pupil, and recently Cullen had allowed him to take his vows and become a real Templar.

What now again, he thought distressed, I don't think I can cope with another disaster.

'The title isn't accurate any longer –' he started tired, but immediately got interrupted.

'They're bringing Messere Hawke to the courtyard, Knight Captain Ser,' Keran panted aggravated, not taking note of Cullen's remark. 'I've heard the Knight Commander is going to put her to death.'

Cullen stiffened. This soon? This can't be true. She certainly wants to make a grand show out of it, preferably in the middle of Hightown. 'Maker preserve us,' he mumbled. He put himself together. 'Where is Ser Thrask?'

'I don't know,' Keran cried desperately, 'I can't find him anywhere!' Of course he had looked for Thrask first; after all, he belonged to his secret organisation. But he figured he could trust the Knight Captain, former Knight Captain; he was a decent man. To his relief at the same moment a known voice sounded at the entrance of the room.

'What is the fuss all about?' Thrask sounded fractious and looked outright infuriated if not on the brink of combusting. He had Orsino in tow who, on his turn, looked embarrassed and more than a little guilty.

Cullen let his eyes wander to Keran. 'It seems Meredith is planning to condemn the Champion as we speak.'

'She is going to murder her!' the young Templar cried out in dismay. 'Please Ser Thrask, we have to do something!'

'Fuck it all,' Thrask cursed harshly. 'After everything now this.' He turned ferociously to the First Enchanter. 'You stay here,' he barked. 'Cullen, if you would be so kind as to guard him? Keran, run to the Keep as fast as you can.' He frowned. 'Without your Templar outfit,' he added. 'I fear they're apt to shoot you on sight if you show up in your uniform.'

Cullen had raised his brow. 'What has he on his record?' he asked, indicating Orsino.

'I'll explain later. Or perhaps he wants to explain himself. Try not to kill him – yet. We'll decide later what to do with him. If you'll excuse me now, I believe there is a woman I have to try to save.'

Orsino just looked sad.

After her stay in the gloomy prison cell, Hawke had to blink against the bright sunlight that blinded her when Mettin pushed her into the courtyard. She almost stumbled after a particularly vicious shove in her back but succeeded in keeping her footing. 'No need for that,' she hissed angrily, 'just give me a moment to adjust my eyesight after your hospitable and generous gesture to give me one of your first-class rooms in your freak-hotel.' She drew some satisfaction out of the man's astonished silence. She straightened her back and held her head high to face whatever awaited her.

The first challenge was Meredith, who was standing in the middle of the courtyard as some grand queen holding court. What especially caught her attention was that she was standing next to a newly erected pole. What was the meaning of that? The woman was flanked by a regiment of her Templars, all of them looking blank like schoolboys who had encountered the significant but harsh other use of the teacher's ruler.

To her not so pleasant surprise she then noticed a delegation of the nobility that had gathered behind the Knight Commander. On the other hand, it came as no surprise at all to recognise Guillaume de Launcet among them and she didn't doubt the rest of them also harboured less than warm feelings for her. Perhaps I'd better put more effort in pacifying them, she thought, alas, a little late for that sensible Satinalia's resolution now. Mettin gripped her shoulders and made her stand still before Meredith.

'And here you are,' the woman growled with a feral snarl on her face. 'Not such a big mouth right now, have you.'

'That depends,' Albran began, 'whether I get the opportunity to –'

'Silence!' Meredith hollered. 'Traitors don't have the right to speak!'

'I think I have at least the right to hear the charges against me and to see your so-called evidence,' Hawke stubbornly persevered. The next moment her head rang with the blow Mettin dealt her.

'Shut up,' he growled, 'and heed your betters.'

She still managed to stay on her feet, be it hardly.

Meredith turned to address the nobles. 'Evidence she wants!' she called with her shrill voice that could shred a person's eardrums and penetrate thick castle walls. 'As if she doesn't know her crime! But I have asked you all to come and witness this specific and indisputable evidence so that no-one will say I have arrested her just to take revenge on the outrageous way she and her elven spouse have treated the Knight Commander of this city!'

She paused for a couple of moments and Hawke caught the self-righteous expression of the Comte de Launcet. The man practically combusted with smug ecstasy. He seemed to be shivering with expectation. Within a few seconds he is going either to have a heart-attack or an orgasm, she couldn't help thinking. But then her attention got drawn to the two items Meredith produced with a triumphant look on her face. She turned back to her.

'You wanted evidence?' she sneered. 'Then you will get it. Recognise this?'

To Albran's dread a well-known pendant dangled between her fingers. The very Tevinter Chantry amulet she had found in the Holding Caves when they were hunting Hadriana, and she had given as a present to Anders. For a laugh, more or less. Or perhaps even as a thumbs up, come to think about it, because her sister had been a mage and would have been hunted and prosecuted in this damned city as some kind of dangerous animal and Anders was fighting against that irrational and ridiculous situation.

She realised the amulet could be a strong argument to be used against her. How the hell had that turd managed to put her hands upon it? Had Anders betrayed her after his – his awful behaviour? Did it mean he had been caught? Had the Templars succeeded in their effort to find him? Had they taken the bauble from his body, had they tortured him? Hell, it had been meant as some kind of joke; now it could well be that joke had turned to bite both of them in the ass.

Meredith gave her no time to recuperate. 'And here is the letter that went with it,' she yelled triumphantly. She shoved a piece of paper under her nose. 'Your handwriting, if I'm not mistaken. I've seen it often enough to know it is yours. Your petition to keep the lad Keran in the Templar Order even after he had been at the mercy of demons; your signature under your marriage contract. You can't deny this!'

Albran stared at the note with rising panic.

"My dear friend,

It pleases me to inform you everything is going according to plan. It is good to hear our Northern allies are already on their way to help us getting rid of KCM. As good as it is to know MUM is alert and ready to strike. Soon after the wedding we can set our scheme into motion. Thank you for your gift. I shall wear it so that I can be recognized and prove I am on the right side.

With love, AH"

She looked up at Meredith. 'This is not my handwriting,' she said flatly, knowing her denial wouldn't help her, 'somebody has gone through a lot of effort to forge it but it is not mine.' And, bloody hell, I know who wrote this note. Fenris was right all along. I should have listened to him. I should have dragged that sickening fraud by his ear to the Chantry to expose his true intensions to Sebastian. And after that I should have let Aveline take him into custody. And again. A bit too late.

Meredith held the two pieces of her glorious proof high above her head to let the gathered nobles see them. As some kind of sacred relics of a since long deceased saint. As if they were the ashes of Andraste herself. They all cheered; or rather they uttered their victory by elegantly incensed calls that could hardly conceal their foul excitement.

Albran looked at them and finally she got numb. She was defeated; no way she could win this battle. At this point she didn't know nor could think of anything to say to save her hide.

Meredith pointed at the pole that was slammed into the floor of the courtyard. 'Only one punishment for a traitor!' she screamed excitedly. 'Being whipped to death!'

The chorus of excited nobles happily agreed.

Before she knew it, Hawke was hauled to the piece of wood and tethered to it. What was left of her wedding dress got ripped apart.

'I told you your witty remarks would be silenced forever,' the new Knight Captain grinned.

And then the first lash of the whip hit her back.