"Trip, if the Carta really are involved, you should report this officially, and hang whatever Bartrand wants," Aveline said. "You've got nothing to gain by protecting him, and Varric could be in real danger by now."
"Aveline, the police already know. I came clean about the Carta after Varric's shop was broken in to a week ago. I haven't seen a badge since."
We were riding the tram back to Lowtown, jostled and bumped on all sides by commuters reading the evening papers and discussing the weekend ahead. Aveline had already bruised someone's ribs for putting a hand on her backside, and every time we went round a corner the dwarf crammed in next to me would accidentally poke me in the ribs with his umbrella. At least he apologised.
Aveline's shoulders dropped. She knew I was right. I felt bad for her; it couldn't have been easy being one of the few honest cops with any spine in this town.
"Cheer up," I told her, "maybe there'll be another commendation in it for you. How many do you need before they make you sergeant anyway?"
She snorted, "It doesn't work like that, Trip."
Fenris spoke up, "Maybe not the police, but we might need more help. There's only so much four of us can do."
I nodded, "Let's round everyone up."
When we finally got off the cable-car, I sent Carver off to fetch Isabela, Fenris to look for Merrill and I took the shortest route to Anders' clinic. When we returned to Gamlen's house for an early dinner, only Fenris turned up alone.
"Merrill wasn't in," he said.
"She might be walking in the park again," I said. "We can't afford to wait for her." Her walks could take hours.
Ma obviously hadn't expected so many people over for dinner, and while she sliced extra bread and shelled more peas, Aveline and Fenris went out and bought fried chicken to supplement Ma's curried flounder and donuts for dessert. Say what you like about Kirkwall, the fish here was always cheap and when times were lean Ma did her best to get creative with them.
We gave up trying to fit around the kitchen table and sat in the living room, gents sitting on the floor and the ladies on the chairs, although Gamlen grumbled about it. For once, Fenris and Anders weren't fighting; Varric was a friend to them both and they'd put aside their differences. It meant they hardly said a word as they ate, but at least it was peaceful.
Isabela was kicking herself for not noticing he'd been gone for such a long time.
"I just thought I kept missing him, you know? It's not like we keep office hours."
"What's the point of having a division specifically set up to combat organised crime when they simply ignore things they think are too hard?" Aveline remained deeply unimpressed with her colleagues and dissected her chicken angrily.
"What exactly are we going to do?" Carver asked.
"We'll try Bartrand's warehouse first. I want to know what he's got in there. If we can't turn up any clues, we take the fight to the Carta."
"Trip, you promise me you'll be careful," Ma said. She didn't try and tell us not to go.
"I don't think there's anything in the city the folks in this room can't handle if they put their minds to it," I said proudly.
Isabela laughed. "See," she said, "I told you we were a gang."
"You won't be satisfied until Trip's antics get us all killed, will you Leandra?" Gamlen wasn't convinced.
After we finished the donuts and dusted the sugar off our fingers, we headed for the docks, Horse included.
It was a strange evening. A faint, acrid haze clung to everything, and when we briefly caught a glimpse of the harbour below us, we could see smoke billowing into the otherwise clear evening sky.
By the time the second fire engine thundered past us, its bell ringing furiously, we were picking up the pace and discarding our cigarettes, our shoes clattering on the steep cobbled streets. We had to slow down when we arrived at the docks proper as the streets and pavements grew crowded with people pouring from the cheap doss houses and hotels and speakeasies to see what was going on.
There was a fire somewhere, and as entertainment went it was both free and exciting. Even the dolls on the street corners were giving up and joining the crowd. There was a kind of festival atmosphere.
We elbowed and shoved and took shortcuts down alleyways as the air grew thicker. I glanced up, but I couldn't see the stars any more, although I don't know if that was because of the smoke in the sky or the water in my eyes.
Aveline kept pace with me. "You don't think Bartrand was fool enough-"
I looked at her. Bartrand was fool enough for anything, as far as I was concerned.
By the time we had to slow to a walk, we were very close. Ash flaked down around us, and I could see sparks flung forty feet into the sky over the tops of the nearest buildings. I could hear the crackle of flames, and the shouts of the firefighters trying to keep people back.
Folks trying to escape were meeting the folks who'd come to watch, and the crowd seethed and swore at each other.
When we finally managed to see what the fuss was about – standing on our toes and peering over the heads of the people in front - the fire trucks were pumping seawater over nearby buildings, trying to prevent the fire from spreading.
They'd given up on the source. The monster.
It was a warehouse, a huge square building squatting on the waterfront like a toad. As I watched a window exploded, showering glass across the street as a fireball rolled lazily out of it and licked up the side to the blazing roof. The crowd cheered. The noise was indescribable.
The flames had seized one end of a nearby gin mill, and the proprietor was all but coming to blows with the fire-fighters as he desperately tried to get back in and save his illegal stock.
But even above it all, I thought I heard two gunshots.
"Come on!" I shouted over the din, and beckoned everyone to follow me, as I doubted they'd actually heard what I'd said. We weren't gonna get anywhere from this side unless we acquired wings and fireproof suits. We turned and dived back into the crowd. I led the others in a wide circle around the warehouse, aware that the buildings next to it could go up at any time. They were all mostly wood, and Maker knew what kind of flammable materials were piled up inside them.
One street away, it was quieter. We splashed through puddles as the salt spray from the fire trucks arced over nearby buildings and pattered down around us like rain. Isabela said she wished she'd brought a parasol. The back of the warehouse was still mostly intact, although smoke poured from every crack and flames licked at the roof.
"We're too late," Aveline said. "Whatever Bartrand had in there, it's going up in smoke."
"There is a bright side," Anders pointed out. "We could have been inside when he set the fire."
"I heard gunshots," I said. "I'm sure of it."
"I could have been anything, Trip," Fenris said. "Exploding bottles or glass. Even green wood under that much heat and pressure can explode like a pistol shot."
I took a deep breath and wished I hadn't as I coughed violently. "Well, you may be right," I said, blinking tears out of my eyes. "Who'd need to fire a gun in a burning building? It's not like there's anything we can do anyway."
It galled me that Bartrand had, almost literally, burned his bridges. We were still no closer to finding Varric. I held my handkerchief over my nose, and waved for everyone to go. There was nothing more we could do here until the fire had burned itself out.
I'd barely turned my back when the side of the warehouse splintered open, and a motor burst through what was once a doorway, skidded over the sidewalk and bounced over the gutter. We hauled ourselves out of the way as the driver floored it and tore off down the street.
I didn't get a good look at any of the occupants, but I'd seen enough to note they were all dwarves.
"Carta?" Carver asked, as we regrouped.
"Definitely." Isabela nodded. "I think you were right about those gunshots after all."
"But what or who were they shooting?" I asked. I peered into the hole that the car had left, but all I could see was smoke and sparks. As I watched, a beam fell across the opening, smouldering at one end.
I felt someone grab my arm. Anders.
"You're not seriously thinking of going in there, are you?" he asked hoarsely.
Varric was a true friend. Would he do the same for me? I don't know. But he wasn't me. He couldn't do what I could do. He couldn't draw upon the same power I could.
I don't believe in fate. I don't really believe the Maker has a plan, not on the small scale. Not for just one man. But sometimes, I wonder if I was born a mage for a reason. It don't make a difference either way. We're dealt a hand and we play it the best we can.
The Carta were in there for a reason. They fired their guns for a reason. They'd stayed in that burning building until it was almost too late for them for a reason.
I felt sick.
Might have been the smoke, might have been sheer fear.
The others were looking at me.
"I'll come with-" Aveline started to offer, and I held up my hand. If I asked, they'd probably have all followed me. Fenris had been right; I had power over people, and at times like this it frightened me.
"It'll be easier on my own," I said.
"Trip, how the hell do you expect to even get in there?" Carver asked, looking more scared than I think he realised.
I looked up at the warehouse and held out my hand.
"Somebody give me a gun."
"Trip are you sur-" Carver cut himself off as Fenris wordlessly placed his automatic in my palm.
If you're the kind of person who's inclined to do that kind of thing, you might wander into a library and have a look at the encyclopaedia there. I did once and looked up all kinds of things. You might find yourself reading up on all the brainy stuff, about how force depends on mass and acceleration.
And then, if you're still interested, you might turn to the section on guns. Let me tell you, a bullet don't weigh much but lead is pretty heavy for its size. And if your encyclopaedia is any good, it might tell you just how fast a gun fires its bullets. If you stop and think about it, that bullet's starting at zero. That's a lot of acceleration. Remember what I said about force?
If you're with me so far, you might be inclined to act on your knowledge.
You might want to run and hide.
Because someone just gave a force mage a gun.