The Keening Blade
Chapter 28: The Past is Always With Us...So Keep Your Sword Handy
Delilah was in the city of Amaranthine to welcome them when they returned. Loghain was able to report to the Howes, brother and sister, that the Architect and the Mother were both dead, and their lairs destroyed. That much they had understood; and that would celebrated at Our Lady Redeemer in a few hours, after the Wardens had time for a bath and a meal.
He had not quite succeeded in making them understand Maude's heroic share in the victory. The Architect had been an enemy whose threat they grasped, and whom they could picture, however imperfectly. The Mother, in his recital, seemed to them more a pitiful victim vouchsafed a merciful death by Maude than the immensely powerful monster she had proved in combat. The reality of her—that she was indeed at once a pitiful victim and a powerful monster—was beyond the comprehension of those who had never seen her. The Howes were shown the relics, and agreed that it was unlikely that anyone would be able to identify the owner. Nathaniel said he would have them placed in the Chantry, and prayers said for the woman and her children.
Maude had made Loghain agree not to tell anyone about the dragon; because, she said, "then scavengers will come, and they'll see all the dragonbone, and they'll grab it before we can get there with our wagons, and that would be very depressing."
Delilah herself was not in the best spirits, though she tried hard to make a good appearance, and thanked both Loghain and Maude with gentle and earnest simplicity.
When Loghain took Nathaniel aside to question him about the Arlessa's pale face and red eyes, Nathaniel told him, "She's had some bad news, poor girl. She had a good friend in Amaranthine who was killed when the darkspawn invaded. The fellow was a shopkeeper here who was quite pleasant to her during the time when Father had her kept so closely. Delilah is very loyal to her friends."
"Of course," Loghain agreed.
Maude frowned at the news. When Nathaniel was out of earshot, she remarked, "A good thing I put a stop to that relationship and put Delilah in the High Seat of Amaranthine! She would have been killed, too!"
"Somehow," Loghain said, a little sharply, "I don't think that makes Delilah feel better about his death!"
She scowled, and looked away. "I'm sorry he's dead. I'm sorry that Delilah is sad. I understand that she was lonely and had no one, and any touch of human kindness must have meant the world to her. All the same, I can't say I'm sorry that I got her made Arlessa. I'd feel a lot worse if we'd stolen the arling from her, and she was one of those people thrown on the common pyre."
"I've put together twenty sovereigns for Aura," Maude told Loghain. She was cross-legged on the bed in their guest quarters, counting out the gold they had come upon in their latest nearly-fatal adventures. "She's decided to go home to Jader. It was nice of her to stay long enough to know whether we were all killed or not. Anyway, the ship leaves tomorrow. I don't see anything wrong with giving her a bit of traveling money."
"I suppose not," Loghain shrugged, frowning at his own reflection. Bloody folderol. The grand thanksgiving at the Chantry had been bad enough, but at least there he was in his armor and did not feel entirely like a fool. The Revered Mother had droned on and on, and there had been a great deal of cheering. And that was not all.
The guilds of Amaranthine wished to thank the Grey Wardens for saving the city, and of course, the guildsmen themselves. The thanksgiving was punctuated by the actual giving of gifts, rather than mere verbal thanks, however heart-felt. Some of the gifts included clothing. Rather welcome, actually, since neither he nor Maude had expected to spend three weeks in Amaranthine.
"You look very nice," Maude commented. "I suppose I should get dressed for the feast, too. And do something with my hair; though it's unlikely they'll start without us."
"It could be worse," he grunted ungraciously. Black and grey velvet. It was appropriate, and not gaudy, for which he should be grateful. On the other hand, he really needed no help remembering that he was a Grey Warden.
Maude's gown was grey and black, too; and rather striking. He liked the corset of black and silver brocade and the draped, assymetrical overskirt of black velvet. Somehow the guildmasters had their measurements. Probably filched by a servant from their clothes left at the Bann's estate, he surmised. Even Nida and Aura had been given new gowns—though Aura's was in decorous mourning. Both women had been very pleased.
At the very end of the ceremony in the Chantry— just when he thought it was over—Delilah stood up and proclaimed him Champion of Amaranthine. There was more cheering. Thus, once again, he was receiving more credit for a victory than he genuinely deserved. It was unfair to Maude, and a vexation to Loghain himself, who did not like to think of himself as a glory hound.
Speaking of hounds: where had Topaz and Ranger got off too? Was Topaz in heat? They were acting very peculiar, and that was not unknown with mabari mating pairs. Sometimes they became secretive, and hid. Whatever they were doing, they had better be ready to go tomorrow morning.
The Wardens would make an overnight stop at the Vigil to retrieve their gear there, and then they needed to get back to Denerim. Nobles would already be gathering for the Landsmeet. If they waited much longer, they would have to travel with Arlessa Delilah, and pleasant as she was, Loghain knew that Maude had had all of Amaranthine she wanted or needed for the foreseeable future.
Maude poked though a chest on the floor and then slipped into her gown and corset. "Lace me up, please."
That was not beyond his powers. Maude looked very nice in black and grey, too; and Loghain made a point of telling her so. She was taking the whole Champion of Amaranthine thing rather well, all things considered, and he wanted to keep her in a good humor.
"It's convenient to have something new for the Landsmeet, anyway," she agreed. "I hope we don't have to be up all night drinking. The earlier we leave tomorrow, the happier I'll be."
"What's in the chest?" he wondered, nearly tripping over it.
"Stuff," she answered helpfully. "My stuff. Don't look at me like that! I didn't take much of anything that isn't rightfully mine. Ow! Too tight."
He relented and loosened the laces before he tied them. Maude flipped open the chest and showed him the miscellany within. She snatched up a book bound in green calfskin.
"See that?" She pointed at the loopy, child-like inscription inside the front cover of Kings and Queen of Ferelden.
"Property of Maude Eleanor Rowan Haelia Moira Shayna Andraste Cousland. Her book and nobody else's. That means you, Fergus!"
A laugh escaped him. "I'm absolutely sure your parents never gave you that name."
"That's not the point!" she shot back. "The book is mine. Just because I was an imaginative child and made up a wonderful name, doesn't make that book any less mine!"
She glared fiercely at Loghain. "This is all stolen property! Rendon gave Esmerelle absolute heaps of our things. This—"her voice dropped to a snarl, as she waved an elaborate little masterpiece of silver at him- "is Oren's naming-day cup. And this portrait miniature is my great-grandmother! I daresay most of the Cousland silver was melted down for coin, but I found these—" she pointed out a set of four shallow, exquisite wine goblets, incised with the laurel branches of Highever.
There was more in the jumble: a box of jewelry, a little jeweled amulet, a silver letter opener, more books, including a child's first primer and The Dragons of Tevinter.
"And those are some nice topazes I found. I think Topaz should have a collar studded with them. Wouldn't that be darling? And these earrings I'm wearing. They were Mother's. At the bottom are some local histories of the North, with heaps about the Couslands. They aren't our copies, but that's too bad. Who knows if anything of the Cousland library was left? I'll check out the library at Vigil's Keep, too, for any genealogies."
Loghain sighed. "Just don't be too blatant, Maude."
"I won't," she assured him seriously. "I am the world's best book-stealer."
Dinner lasted longer than Loghain thought absolutely necessary, and he was praised and thanked again. Delilah, seeing the look in his eye, took the time and trouble to recognize Maude and the rest of the Wardens, which by then seemed a really good idea to Loghain.
Not that Maude was without notice. Their own guardsmen and Nathaniel Howe's archers had spread the word that Maude Cousland had killed an ogre and two dragons single-handed in the Wending Wood Mine. The relics of said dragons had been seen by everyone at Vigil's Keep and were the source of much admiring speculation. Loghain scowled at a group of stupid young louts who were gazing cow-eyed at his wife. She was looking very pretty, of course; but it was insupportable, all the same.
The rest of the Wardens did not seem to care for glory; but were rather pleased and distracted by their new finery. Sigrun was nearly bouncing off the wall, enchanted by her yellow silk gown. She had never before in her life owned anything that could be described as a gown, and certainly nothing made of silk.
She babbled on about it, fueled by excellent wine. "Surface silk! Look at it, Oghren! This is real surface silk. This is fit for the head of a noble house! I like the color, too: it's like sunshine or those yellow flowers with the thorns. I like it so much."
Afterward, in private, Delilah ordered wine brought to them, as she and her brother discussed events with Loghain and Maude. The wine was brought quickly: fragrant, spiced, inviting. They gravely saluted each other, each lost in private thought. After they reviewed plans for the restoration of the city and the relief of the citizens, talk drifted to the upcoming Landsmeet, and what might come of it. Loghain agreed that he thought it extremely likely that Nathaniel would be confirmed as Bann of the city. Royal support would be necessary, but that was almost certain. Anora rather liked Delilah, and the young Arlessa had done well in a terrible crisis.
"I can see the Queen having no objection to it at all." He glanced at Maude, wondering if her assistance would be needed with Alistair. The King had expressed approval of Arlessa Delilah's quiet ways, and seemed to regard her as the hapless victim of an evil father. It was not so certain what he would think of Nathaniel, who was so very like Rendon himself. Like the best of a young Rendon, to be sure, but the physical resemblance was strong, and the King had been present at the confrontation, less than a year ago, between Loghain and Eamon Guerrin, where Howe had said some very unpleasant things to Maude… For that matter, her influence on Fergus would be absolutely essential.
"There is one thing…" Nathaniel blurted. "Maude, I still want to know…" He saw Delilah's anxious expression, and paused; and then set his jaw and went on. "…I still want to know how my father died."
Maude was in mid-swallow. She finished, her face a blank, and turned to him. "You're sure? I mean, are you quite sure?"
Loghain shut his eyes. They had all had entirely too much wine. "I think that would be a very bad idea."
"So do I!" Delilah seconded him instantly. "Nathaniel. Let it go. What's done is done. Let the past bury the past."
"No," Maude said levelly, her eyes suspiciously bright. She set her goblet down, very slowly. "Loghain told me once that the past is always with us. It's perfectly true. Nathaniel will never let go of this until he knows everything. I've tried being oblivious to his provocations, but he just doesn't seem to get the hint. So, you know what? I'm going to tell him exactly what he thinks he wants to know. Everything."
"Maude…" Nathaniel looked briefly miserable, and then determined. "I understand revenge. I understand that Father killed your parents. You've done so much for Ferelden… You've been so kind to Delilah…I can forgive you for what happened with Father, but I just need to know if he suffered…"
"Oh?" Maude drawled dangerously. "You forgive me?"
Loghain stiffened. Something awful was going to happen…
"Forgive. Me?"
"Maude…"
She exploded like an elemental grenade. "Well, fuck your forgiveness, and fuck you too, Howe!" Maude screamed out, gesturing explicitly and rudely with both hands.
Delilah's mouth dropped open in shock.
Maude shouted, "I don't give a shit about your forgiveness. Your father was an evil fuck who needed to be put down like a mad dog, and I did it, but I didn't seek him out for revenge! I was fucking busy trying to save Ferelden, in spite of nearly everybody in this Maker-forsaken country trying to kill me!"
She began pacing, her eyes wild. Delilah clutched her pearl-adorned head in her hands. Loghain glared at the stunned Nathaniel. The fool just had to set her off…
"Nobody understood that we were all going to die! Nobody! Except for the useless cowards who up and fled to the Free Marches. The nobility were all completely blind to the danger-even the Guerrins, because all they could think about was the succession! Everybody was going to die unless I stopped the Blight. "
She paused, then muttered mostly to herself. "No. That's not fair. I should have gone to Wulffe and made common cause with him, but I didn't know what was happening in West Hill. At least he wouldn't have conflated the mortal threat to all life as we know it with putting his own boy on the throne! Or Cousin Leonas. Crap. I should have gone to him right away, but I wasn't thinking clearly after being killed at Ostagar…"
Delilah put out her hands beseechingly to Loghain. He shook his head. It would be useless to interrupt Maude now, and might even make her more violent. Nathaniel looked between Maude and Loghain, absolutely speechless. Loghain sneered back at him. Young Howe hadn't realized until now that what Maude had endured over the past two years had left her more than a little unhinged. Tonight, she was dangerously unhinged.
"Everything depended on me! " Maude declared, pacing like a wild animal that has been kept prisoner too long. "Everybody's life was in my hands. If I screwed up, or ran away, or got myself killed, it was all over. None of you know what that's like! None of you! If I failed, Ferelden would be completely destroyed. Everybody I knew would be killed!" She snarled at Loghain, "Not live under a tyrannical Orlesian king! Not be forced to speak a filthy foreign language! Not be taxed off their lands! Not have to put up with the droit de seigneur! They would die! Every last one of them! And everybody kept throwing obstacles in my way. And it's not even like I wanted to be a Grey Warden. I wanted to stay and die with my parents, but Duncan was there to recruit a Grey Warden, and he slugged me and carried me out. I was upside-down when I had my last glimpse of of Mother and Father looking after me, and then we were out the door and on to Duncan's grand agenda. Yay, Duncan! So… soon it's just me and Chantry Boy and my handful of tatty thousand-year-old treaties and my band of cast-offs and misfits; and from then on it's 'Oh, Grey Warden! Lift the curse! Slay the dragon! Find my cat!'"
She took breath, and poured out her frustration like dragon fire. "'Save my son, save my daughter, save my husband, save my friends, save the mages, rescue the villagers, stop the zombie apocalypse, destroy the werewolves, pass the lethal tests of Andraste, kill the fucktard bandits and assassins and thugs who will not stop getting in my face. And while you're at it, play nice with Templars utterly paralyzed by their fear of magic; with a moribund dwarven culture that indulges in power games while their people shrivel away; with hostile, haughty Dalish elves who would just as soon shoot me in the back as talk to me.' And all these people who are obligated by treaty to ally with me demand that I prove my good faith by performing impossible feats that they're all too dickless to take care of themselves. I do the impossible, and I'm oh-so-fucking-tactful-and-concerned-until-I-think-I'm-going-to-puke-in-their-faces, because they would actually rather die than admit their fossilized world views have become meaningless in the shadow of the Blight!"
She stopped suddenly, and whirled on them. "But that's not all!" She posed like a demented orator, one hand up, eyes wide and rolling. "While I am doing all these things, the leaders of my country had decided to make a scapegoat of me, and trash my name and my family's name for their own ends! After I recovered from my mortal wounds at Ostagar—"
"—That's another story," Loghain muttered to the Howes, slumped on a bench, resigned to the vituperation. How could he defend the indefensible? Besides, this might be his only chance to hear the whole of what had happened to her.
"—I head north, and I first learn of my criminal status from an impudent bandit, who when I tell him I'm a Grey Warden, smirks at me and says, 'Grey Warden, eh? Traitors to Ferelden, I hear!' And then he tells me that I killed the King and betrayed the army!"
"So you killed the bandit," Loghain finished wearily. He lowered his voice and muttered, "—and took his stuff."
"Of course I did!" she blazed. "And he was only the first of many!" She resumed her pacing, her eyes darting from side to side as if looking for enemies in every corner. "In Lothering, a crowd of starving refugees heard of the bounty on me, and told me they didn't care whether I was innocent or guilty. All they cared about was feeding their families that day, and I hadn't developed my diplomatic skills yet, so I stood there gaping as these desperate, half-armed fools threw themselves at me. And I killed them, too, every one, which probably means that by extension I killed their families, who starved or were slaughtered by the darkspawn because they couldn't get away without the man of the family!"
She seized the decanter and poured herself more wine, gulping it down recklessly. "Being honest just got innocent people killed, I discovered," she said, waving her goblet. "So I learned to shut up about the Grey Warden thing when necessary, and when I arrived in Denerim, the walls were covered with posters of an ugly, shifty-eyed woman purported to be me—"
"That was the second printing," Loghain interrupted her. "The first lot of posters looked like you, but people kept taking them down, cutting off the words, and using them to decorate their homes…" He did not tell them that it was Howe's idea to change the face on the poster to that of a woman whom the common folk could believe was a traitor and a regicide.
"I want one," Maude said instantly, and then went on with her raving.
"Anyway, so I'm dragged to Denerim to go to the Landsmeet, because it's much more important to decide who gets to be Big Dog, rather than defend the country from the darkspawn. I arrive at Arl Eamon's ridiculously overdone city estate. If you've ever been to that pit of squalor that is Redcliffe Village, you'll understand my indignation. Who should be the first callers but Loghain, his trusty minion Cauthrien, and your dear old Dad, now Teyrn of Denerim, Teyrn of Denerim, and Arl of Amaranthine, and so pleased with himself that he was practically floating an inch above the dirty bare ground. So then I'm condescended to by Loghain here, who called me a foreigner!"
"I did not call you a foreigner—" Loghain tried to protest.
"—Who called me a foreigner!" she snarled at him, "when I'd been practically killing myself trying to save my country. And Cauthrien called me a churl, and told me to shut up when my betters were speaking, and since I was trying to play by the stupid rules, I did not point out that nobody in that room was my better. In fact, aside possibly from Alistair, who was the unacknowledged son of a king, my birth was better than anybody's there, especially that smug cow's. And you know what? Fuck Alistair anyway, because any Cousland is worth a thousand Theirins any fucking day. And my mother was a Bryland and a Pengallon, and his mother was a Redcliffe housemaid, so there!
"And then I demanded blood rights for the murder of my family, and your father, Nathaniel, laughed at me and said I had no rights. And by the way, Loghain, criticizing me in front of the Landsmeet for killing Rendon instead of bringing charges him before the seneschal was just about the most hypocritical and morally-bankrupt thing you ever said. What the fuck did you think was going to happen, when the arbiter of civil law in Denerim said I had no rights?"
"Maude…" Nathaniel tried to stem the tidal wave of wrath. "No one doubts that you've suffered, but…"
"I'm talking, Nathaniel," she snarled, looking like she might go for a knife at any moment. "You wanted to hear what happened, and I'm telling you."
Delilah clutched at her brother's arm and shook her head. Noticing Delilah seemed to take the edge off Maude's wrath for the moment, for her voice smoothed a little, and she went on, a little more rationally.
"I'm not angry with you, Nathaniel, and I'm certainly not angry with Delilah. It was hard, but I had make myself remember who was at fault and who wasn't. Revenging myself on innocent people would be very wrong. Why should you suffer for what your father did? Why should the Howes be dispossessed at all? They weren't after the Rebellion, and old Tarleton Howe was as big a swine as your father. And Bann Ceorlic was allowed to inherit Lothering, when his father actually murdered Queen Moira! Your father might have used my father's imaginary treason as an excuse to kill little boys, but I hope I'm not that far gone… Sometime I'll tell you about this crazy Dalish elf, who revenged himself for the murder of his children by cursing people who hadn't even been born at the time. It was stupid and very wrong…"
She shook herself. "Anyway, there I am in Denerim, and the Queen's maid comes to see Arl Eamon with a story that the Queen needs me to rescue her from Arl Rendon. This maid, who I'm convinced was trained as a bard, gives me this big sob story about the Queen visiting Rendon, and how he said terrible things to her and locked her up, and she's in dreadful danger, because her father is plotting to kill her—"
"What!" Loghain shouted.
"—which I don't believe for a minute, but Arl Eamon pretends to. What was a fact was that the Queen was requiring me to do something, and as a loyal Fereldan subject I was obliged to obey, even though it was obviously a trap. So I did. I wasn't going to lead Alistair into that mess, so I took Morrigan, Oghren, and Zevran." She smirked at the Howes. "Zevran is a Crow assassin your father hired to kill me. He decided he liked me better."
She rolled her eyes. "What a charade! Erlina—that's the maid—meets us outside the Arl of Denerim's estate and is all cloak-and-daggery: daintily wiping her eyes and wringing her hands and mincing around in her insufferable Orlesian way until I wanted to punch her in the face. She made us put on disguises," she said, very disgusted, "and sneak into the servants' entrance. So we sneaked very sneakily, and found the room where the Queen was being held. So far so good. We're ready to spring her, when she announces that the door is magically locked—which it really was—and that the mage who locked it is with Arl Howe at that very moment."
She shrugged. "So I am totally being set up to be killed. It's clear that the Queen either wants me dead or Howe dead or both of us dead. I love not dying when other people want me to, so you know what? I'll bite. The maid tells me that Howe is in the dungeons, and I can access them from his bedchamber."
"There was an entrance to the dungeons off my father's bedchamber?" Nathaniel asked, horrified. Delilah looked at him sadly.
"I told you," she whispered, "he had changed. Something was wrong with him."
"I agree," said Maude, with an airy, dismissive wave. "Something probably was. I don't know what. He'd gone totally around the bend, and I had to deal with the consequences. I don't know if he'd been tricked by Orlesian agents or cursed by a blood mage or if he was just brain-sick, but he had to go. So I've been in a lot of dungeons, but these were the worst ever. I don't know what sawing women in half and buggering men with wire brushes has to do with making Ferelden safe, but your Father was certainly putting his best foot forward along those lines. And don't even think of giving me that line about making hard choices. You know what's hard? Trying to keep the peace when you're not sure people can be trusted. What's easy is killing them all, and all their children and servants and guests; or to torture people because you can always get a confession of something if you pour molten lead in people's ears. Anyway, I killed all the guards and torturers and torturers' assistants and torturers' apprentices, and I found a lot of people who shouldn't have been locked up, and a lot of them were off their heads, and finally I opened a door and found your father." She smiled wolfishly. "We are coming to the part of the story that you actually want to hear, and I insist on telling it my way."
She leaned back against a tapestry, and took a deep breath. "So he had two mages and two guardsmen with him, and I had one mage and two warriors with me, so I would like to point out right now that I was outnumbered, but fuck that, because I am ridiculously awesome in battle. But I didn't attack right away, because your father was a gloater, and if you can get a gloater to talk, you find out all sorts of interesting things. Actually, I should have killed him on the spot, because events were transpiring above my head about which I knew nothing, but enough of that. Rendon smirked at me, and said, 'So…Bryce's little spitfire. All grown up and still playing the man.'"
She blew out a breath. "I pointed out that I played the man a whole lot more creditably than he did, but he sneered, and gloated some more about how all the Couslands were dead except for me, and I was a useless husk of a Grey Warden: if I hadn't been marked for death I'd be good for nothing but dying under a rock in the Anderfels. That didn't hurt much, because being a Grey Warden was forced on me, so it's not like he could to make me feel bad about my choice of career. He was really proud of his cunning, and told me some of his plans for Ferelden and Anora after you, Loghain, got rid of the darkspawn for him. Yes, you should have thought about entrusting your unmarried daughter to an unmarried, ambitious nobleman. But you didn't. She didn't either, which was extraordinarily careless of her. I don't think that particular gambit even occurred to her. Howe's plan, as far as it went, was pretty sound, I thought. Anyway, it's all blood under the bridge now."
Loghain was shocked motionless: taken aback at the pit he had dug under his own feet. He said nothing. He would certainly not mention Howe's persistent attempts to make a match between Loghain and Delilah, whom her father had sequestered ever so carefully. Loghain was a wretched failure as a politician, but even he had grasped how short Anora's life would be if he took the throne with Howe's presumably fertile daughter as Queen. He had been blind: stupidly blind to the threat of Howe trapping Anora in a forced marriage.
Maude gave them an eerie smile. Her face was painted crimson by the dying firelight: her dark eyes were sunk into her head like those of a skull. "From there, it all became very…personal. He called the Couslands traitors again, which I still don't get. I mean, my father had already sent on the Highever forces with Fergus. If Rendon suspected Father of treason, it would have been the easiest thing in the world to arrest him and take him straight to the King. But he didn't. As far as I can see, all he had was envy and my father's diplomatic success in Orlais and my mother's silk gown. Other than that, he had nothing. Because he had nothing, he went for the heirs, and then he tried to cover up the massacre as a raid by anonymous mercenaries. And Father's old friends in the Landsmeet swallowed the lie because, hey, the Couslands are dead and can't grant them favors any more. Bastards." She scrubbed furiously at her eyes, and after a moment, went on.
"And then he got even nastier. He boasted about how he threw that 'Antivan whore and her brat' into a cesspit to rot. He was speaking, if you had not already realized it, of my lovely and gentle sister-in-law Oriana and my six-year-old nephew Oren. And by the way, don't say their deaths were an accident, because your dad's men knew perfectly well whose rooms were whose. You know why I know that? This creepy guardsman of his had asked me that afternoon if I was Maude Cousland. And there he was outside my bedchamber after midnight, heavily armed, with his bestest friend, telling him that he wanted first go at the Teyrn's daughter. So Ranger and I killed them—the first men I ever killed. I don't think they were expecting a mabari. And Mother ran out of her chamber, struggling into her armor. We saw the men's insignia, and she understood right away what had happened. Oriana's door was closed, but we rushed in to see if she was all right. But she wasn't. A couple of Howe men had thrown her face-down over a footstool with her skirt pushed back, and one was pumping away at her while the other was holding little Oren up like a bloody doll, making sure Oriana could see him. Oren was already dead by the time we opened the door."
Delilah made a small, dreadful sound.
Maude's huge eyes were fixed on the memory. "And the one in her was angry because she wasn't moving enough to please him, so he was stabbing her in the side with his dagger—like this," she gestured with quick violence, "to make her jump. Again and again. Oriana wasn't screaming because they had stuffed a stocking in her mouth. Mother went for the bastard who had Oren, and I grabbed the rapist's hair and pulled back his head and nearly sawed his head off. We were…distraught. They knew who Oriana was, all right. They wouldn't have dared do what they did without permission. Oriana…wouldn't even try to live afterwards."
Maude shrugged at their shocked faces. "I guess your father was still pissed off about Fergus not marrying you, Delilah. Anyway, I was telling you about that day I caught him in the dungeons. He bragged about Oriana and Oren, like I said, and then he told me what he did to my mother, and that it was the last thing my father saw. I suppose I'll write in my memoirs that it was that she had to kiss his foot or something equally innocuous. Of course it wasn't that at all. I suppose he thought he would make me angry…and stupid. He was half right. I don't remember very much of what happened afterwards. I saw everything in a kind of red mist, because all of a sudden I was reliving that night of blood and death at Highever. If it means something to you, you can be assured I didn't torture your father. I didn't do any of the things he did to my family to him. I didn't gut him, or castrate him, or kill his children in front of him, or have him raped, or put him on his favorite rack. I just killed him in a stand-up fight. He was no coward, whatever else he was. I ran him through the gap in his armor under his arm, and he died him pretty fast. When he was down and bleeding out, I leaned in—carefully—to hear his last words." She smirked at Nathaniel. "And they were not about his beloved family or his beloved country, by the way, but were: 'I…deserved…more.'"
No one said anything, and that seemed to irritate Maude. "So he's dead, and the mage is dead, and I go back to finish rescuing the Queen from a fate worse than and probably including death. She comes out of the room—dressed in a guardsman's armor! I ask you. There's nothing to be done but play the game to the end, so we head out of that narrow passage from the guest quarters to the entry hall, and who should be waiting there but Ser Cauthrien and a company of mixed foot and archers."
Loghain looked up at her and was not surprised at her expression.
Maude snorted, "Somehow, Cauthrien had just happened to hear all about my wicked murder of poor Rendon Howe, and I was called on to surrender—'and I might be shown mercy!' What a laugh! I considered fighting my way out, and that would have killed a lot of people, and Anora might have been injured—even killed—herself, so that was no go, since the entire point of the exercise was to rescue her. And I took a look at Her Majesty, just wondering if I could expect any intervention there, and I caught her eye for just a second and I knew I couldn't. I'll bet any amount of coin that she would have claimed that I was a vicious kidnapper. So I surrendered, and Anora and her little toady Erlina scuttled out of there and headed to Arl Eamon, which personally I still think was a really bad move. Cauthrien wasn't interested in anybody but me—understandable if foolish of her—and so I was the one who got the crap kicked out of her and dragged off to Fort Drakon, where I was stripped naked and slugged again. That's not really part of the story, though, because of course I escaped and took back all my stuff and more. And I forgive Cauthrien because she's a great warrior and defended the people of Denerim. It wasn't clear to me until later that the Queen was hedging her bets and had summoned Cauthrien—probably anonymously— herself. That was pretty mean and rotten, since I was there at her behest to save her, but I forgive her, too, because she's the only queen we've got, and she's going to have a baby, and she didn't know that Ferelden was doomed without me. And then I won the Landsmeet and Loghain became a Warden, and I forgave him for being horrible to me, and we saved Ferelden, blah, blah, blah. And my big reward is that I'm still a Warden. Go me."
She looked her audience of three over, eyes narrowed. "So whenever you feel hard done by, be comforted by this: Amaranthine lost some land, but Fergus lost his parents, his wife, and his two children—yes, two. Oriana was three months pregnant. And the night Fergus left, Oren begged him to bring him a sword. Fergus hugged him, and his last words to him were a promise that he'd 'being seeing a sword really soon…'"
Delilah choked. Maude went on ruthlessly. "So yes, if you need to feel revenged, think of those words, which Fergus has to live with for the rest of his life. Now I'm done here, and I'm going to get some sleep, and I'm leaving early in the morning. None of you will ever know how I feel, and none of you know shit about forgiveness."
The echoing silence that followed her departure was eventually broken by Loghain.
"Howe," he said wearily. "In future, remember that ripping off a scab is not the best way to heal a wound."
Terribly distressed, Nathaniel only managed, "You don't understand! That's not the Maude I've known since childhood. She's been driven mad! Completely mad!"
"Nathaniel," Delilah pulled her brother to her side, her face older than her years. "Of course she's changed. We've all changed, and not for the better. Do you understand at last what I've been telling you? Father did this! He poisoned our lives. He killed Thomas with his scheming. Don't bring him up anymore. It causes nothing but pain."
Nathaniel shook his head. "She's mad."
Loghain gave him a level look. "Only when stubborn individuals deliberately set her off. Besides, she has just cause, for everything she said is true."
After a walk on the ramparts to clear his head, Loghain was surprised —and very relieved— to find Maude in their guest quarters, already undressed and in bed. He paused in the doorway, studying her. At rest, with her eyes closed, and illuminated by a single candle and the embers in the grate, she looked very young.
Trying not to disturb her, he began quietly working on his boots and laces. If she knew he was here, she would very likely throw him out.
"I hear you."
Those words, in a girl's soft voice, awakened a flood of sweet and painful memories. Rowan had said those very words in the dark of the Deep Roads, when she was at the lowest ebb of her spirits. Maric's open dalliance with Katriel had humiliated the proud daughter of the Arl of Redcliffe, and Rowan had turned to Loghain for validation and comfort.
But the girl on the bed was not Rowan, though she, too, seemed in poor spirits. Maude's dark eyes opened, and gazed up at the ceiling. Loghain sat on the edge of the bed, and stroked her hair out of her face.
"I wasn't sure you'd be here," he said quietly.
"Where else would I go?" she replied. "Should I not sleep in a bed because Nathaniel provoked me and I made a horrible, embarrassing scene?" She sighed, still not looking at him. "I thought unburdening myself would make me feel better, but it doesn't. I'm sorry Delilah had to hear that. But I don't take back a single thing I said. It was all perfectly true."
"I know. I thought perhaps you were still angry with me."
"I'm not angry with you. I told you long ago that being a Warden makes up for everything. I was angry at the past." She turned on her side, frowning. "—And I suppose I'm still angry at Rendon Howe and at Duncan. I'm still a bit angry at Nathaniel for saying he forgave me. I know I was horrid, but I could have been worse, and said what I thought about him staying safe in the Free Marches during the worst crisis in Fereldan history!"
"I'm very glad you didn't," Loghain said, sliding into bed beside her. "Now try to calm down and get some sleep. We'll be out of here in the morning."
"Can we leave very, very early? Before anyone else is up?"
"No," Loghain said firmly, soothing her with his fingertips. "We are not sneaking out of here. We'll have a good breakfast, say our farewells properly, and ride out of here with quite a bit of our dignity intact."
"That's good, I suppose," Maude agreed, pushing his hand a little lower. "That will give me more time to pack everything I found."
The Feddics were in Amaranthine with their wagon, ready and willing to cart the Wardens' belongings for them. Their guardsmen were glad to be going home as well. Loghain was relieved that he could return them to Anora largely undamaged.
It was a very restrained and quiet breakfast at the Head Table. Maude was limpidly, impenetrably polite; Loghain impassive, and the Howes quiet and sorrowful. Bows and thanks were exchanged. Loghain's new title of Champion of Amaranthine was reaffirmed, and there was nothing else to do but escort Aura to the docks and see her safely onto the ship that would return her to Jader.
She had been treated generously not only by the Wardens and the guildsmen of the city, but by Arlessa Delilah herself. Perhaps there was some secret fellow-feeling there. Delilah, before Aura left, spoke to her personally about her husband's sacrifice, and gave her an onyx mourning ring set in heavy gold, plus a substantial purse of coin. The lovely blonde woman stepped onto the deck of the ship, drew the customary Orlesian mourning veil over her face, and waved a last goodbye.
Anders said, "The mourning veil is a good idea on shipboard for such a pretty woman traveling alone."
Morrigan only harrumphed, but Maude agreed with him. "I suppose so," she said. "Veils can be very useful. Like masks, only more subtle."
Loghain grimaced at the idea of revolting Orlesian masks, but took her point.
After so much casting of Haste in the past few days, their half-day's ride to Vigil's Keep was a slow amble. Delilah and Nathaniel would remain in the city, overseeing its restoration, and would leave for the Landsmeet in seven days. The Wardens would have the Vigil to themselves, the only representative of local authority there being the well-disposed seneschal Varel. Loghain and Maude had already agreed that they would stay there only one night and then be off. They could travel from the Vigil to Denerim in a long day's journey, especially now that the Wending Wood had been purged of its perils.
The dogs looked smug and sleek: coats shining and scrubbed; well-fed on dainties from the Arlessa's table and handouts cadged from half of the city of Amaranthine. Maude chattered happily to them, promising Topaz her very own Archdemon hide collar and a special jeweled one for dress-up.
Nida rode pillion behind her husband, but would have her own horse hereafter. The horses of the deceased Wardens had survived the assault on the fortress. That was a substantial string of horses, and a major resource. Loghain played with the idea of breeding horses on Warden lands. Not in the mountains, but perhaps in a farm purpose-built, in the flatlands near the coast. Horses were not vital to fighting, at least from the Warden's standpoint, but they helped immeasurably as transportation, and they might also be a source of income. The land granted to the Wardens was not as large as an arling, but it was larger than any single bannorn in Ferelden. It was also thinly populated, which meant that there was land to be had, and land to be dedicated to useful purposes. The Wardens would not only be self-sufficient, as far as possible, they would help rebuild Ferelden's economy.
Yes, horses. Perhaps some gold would buy a first-rate stallion, maybe an Antivan barb or a Frostback Traveler. Those latter were sturdy beasts, but the former would breed desirable saddle horses for the wealthy. Horses, yes—and sheep. Satisfying Warden appetites would take a lot of food production, and sheep would suit the Coast Mountains better than cattle. And would bear wool, too.
It was very pleasant, not to be worried about matters of state, but simply about their own territory and how to make the most of it. That had been what he had loved about Gwaren in those first few years, before Rowan died and Maric needed him again.
Well, Gwaren had passed on to Anora now, and perhaps someday to a grandchild of his. It was best not to interfere, but to concentrate on the present.
He glanced over at Maude, who seemed fixed on her own thoughts as well. She seemed relaxed and at peace. He would take care never, ever to mention her breakdown last night.
"Are you thinking about Soldier's Peak?" he asked.
She blinked. "No. But that is a nice thing to think about. I was thinking about dragons, actually. And Kirkwall, City of Chains. My father knew the last viscount, Perrin Threnhold, quite well. I suppose he met Marlowe Dumar as well, but I'm not sure. I'll have to ask Fergus. Anyway, I am sure we'll get a far better price if we sell some of the bones and so forth abroad without a merchant to take a cut. Kirkwall is a logical place, but there's also Antiva or Ostwick. I'm related to the Teyrn of Ostwick, after all. Still, there's more money in Kirkwall."
"There's no reason we have to go ourselves," he grumbled.
"Yes, there is!" she disagreed. "I am certain I can not only get a better price than any merchant I know, but I can also protect our dragon things better. They are our capital, and it's unlikely we'll ever have so much at one time again. We must make the most of it. On our way to Soldier's Peak, we can stop and collect all the treasure from Kal'Hirol, and then scour the Dragonbone Wastes for everything we can lay our hands on. We'll need several wagons."
"We have the Landsmeet to get through first," he pointed out. He was not looking forward to it, Champion of Amaranthine or no.
"I've thought about that, too," Maude said. "I want to know what Anora has to propose that will make the Crown takeover of the Denerim arling palatable. I can't see Eamon ever going for it, since he wants it so badly for Teagan. Not that I wouldn't like Teagan to be an arl, but there is no way I want two Guerrin arls in the Landsmeet."
"Nor I," he grunted, "which is why I tried to remove Eamon from the Landsmeet long ago."
"And there is simply nobody else I would give an arling to—other than me, and I'm not eligible. Not one of those dolts did anything in the war worth an arling, not even Teagan, for that matter, though he is a thoroughly decent fellow." She took a long drink from her canteen. "Of course, the problem is that the Crown also holds Gwaren. An arling and a teyrnir may just seem too big a bite for the Crown to swallow. Frankly, I agree with that myself. I know you want to help Anora, but I think she's overreaching. I understand the logic of the Crown have direct control of the Denerim arling. I understand the propriety of Anora inheriting Gwaren. I just don't think both those things can happen at once. And so far, I just don't see why Fergus, for example, would agree to it."
At sunset the next day, they were at the gates of Denerim, and given a welcome fit for heroes. Maude had found some armor that would fit her—a striking black jerkin of dragonhide looted from the Wending Wood mine—and considered herself almost fit to be seen. She was still mourning Sophia Dryden's armor. The pieces were in the wagon with the rest of their loot, but it was obviously that not even the skill of Master Wade could put them back together again. At best, the armor would make an interesting relic for display at the Peak.
Loghain had taken the time to speak to the admirable dwarven engineers, and promise them employment when they were finished at Vigil's Keep. He had some ideas about the Peak's defenses. It was a splendid fortress, but there was always room for improvement...
The remains of the dragons killed in the mine would be sent on later. There was quite a bit of material there, after all, and to tan the hides properly would be a long process. Maude left the workmen sufficient gold for their labor and the cartage, and looked forward to all sorts of interesting leather accessories. As promised, Maude had opened their pay chest, and each Warden was fifty sovereigns richer. There was great excitement at dinner last night.
Meanwhile, they all looked presentable, and most were smiling. Anders insisted on wearing his blue velvet doublet, the gift of the guildsmen of Amaranthine, on their ride through the city. Loghain thought he looked more like Maric than ever. The boy would be measured for armor as soon as possible, and would wear it; and there was an end of it.
Drum and trumpets and an honor guard with banners met them at the gates and escorted them to the Palace. Their wagons and horses were diverted to the Wardens' Compound, and the Wardens themselves were led straight to the throne room for royal thanks. Alistair and Anora looked like grand golden statues on the high dais. Sigrun shuffled, nervous and embarrassed, until warmed by Maude's reassuring smile. Keenan ducked his head bashfully, while his wife bloomed like flower in the summer sun. She was a comely woman, after all, and knew she looked well in her new gown.
That over, they could get away to the Wardens' Compound to settle in. All but Loghain and Maude, of course, who were asked to join Their Majesties for a private audience. Loghain was happy enough to see Anora, but hoped dinner would be soon. Alistair being Alistair, of course, there were snacks in the private sitting room.
Nearly a month had passed, and there was much to discuss. Anora was even more visibly pregnant. She had taken to wearing gowns that accentuated it. Loghain embraced her, felt the baby bump, and understood that she was glorying in her manifest fertility. She was absolutely radiant. No one at the Landsmeet was going to be able to ignore her condition. An heir for Ferelden was well on the way.
The dogs stayed nicely at heel, and at his command sat simultaneously, like the matched pair they were. Even Anora, who had been afraid of dogs in childhood, had a smile for them.
"You have a dog now, Father? She's lovely."
"This is Topaz, our new friend."
Topaz wagged her stubby tail politely at Anora, but really had eyes only for him. She smiled doggily, however, and sat very straight, with a fine sense of the occasion.
Alistair was very pleased to see Maude, rather pleased to see the dogs, and not particularly pleased to see Loghain himself.
"Loghain."
"Your Majesty."
That was all, but it was enough for civility. Chantry Boy wanted to know all about talking darkspawn and the attack on Amaranthine. Loghain let Maude tell the tale, since she would do it more vividly than he had in Amaranthine. She did: with the addition of expansive gestures and sound effects. Their Majesties were impressed. Maude really should have been a bard. Alistair relaxed enough to scratch the dogs' ears, in between bites of sausage and cheese.
Loghain tried to intervene a little when Maude was described the horror of the Mother: he did not like Anora to hear about it. She, however, insisted, and was nearly overcome. Alistair looked sick. He, of course, had actually seen and fought a Broodmother, and thus he was able to grasp the unspeakable nature of a sentient one.
"That's just about the worst thing I've ever heard," the boy said seriously. "I know there must be more Broodmothers, way down in places like the Dead Trenches, but for her to be right here in Ferelden, just under the ground…it's…well…"
"I know exactly what you mean," Maude soothed him. "It was very sad and very horrible, but we took care of it. The Architect is dead, and can't do that to anyone else. We'll send a report to Weisshaupt, of course, and ask if there have been other sightings of talking darkspawn, but we're pretty sure the worst is over. Any other darkspawn we see should be the usual mindless monsters, who haven't been able to figure out how to get back to the Deep Roads."
"A great triumph…" murmured Anora. Loghain sighed, knowing what would follow. Yes, tomorrow…another celebration, this one at the Cathedral. Another procession. Recognition before the Landsmeet. The Champion of Amaranthine. The Dragonslayer of Ferelden. The Hero of River Dane. And so forth, world without end.
The past is always with us…
Of course, Anora was going to use all this for her own purposes. Loghain could see the calculations ticking away behind the beautiful blue eyes.
She reached over to lay her hand gently on Alistair's forearm. Chantry Boy reddened and looked inexpressibly foolish. At least he valued Anora more than Cailan had. She said, "We have felt out some of the nobles, and there is considerable resistance to our plans for Denerim. People can be so hidebound."
"Yes," Maude agreed, repeating her previous observations to Loghain. "Keeping Gwaren seems appropriate, as it is your inheritance. Taking control of Denerim is logical, as its governance would be improved by removing a layer of complication. For the Crown to possess both, however, might seem overreaching to the banns."
Anora had a faraway look in her eye. Loghain tensed a little, knowing too well what it meant.
"Your analysis is as astute as ever, Maude. That is exactly how everyone seems to be viewing it. Alistair and I have been giving it a good deal of thought. Perhaps they are right. Perhaps keeping both Gwaren and Denerim as Crown fiefdoms is an abuse of royal power. We had to decide which was more important."
Loghain glanced at Maude, who was watching Anora like a cat at a mouse hole. A manipulator like Maude was not easy to manipulate. Anora gave them both a slight smile and said, "Denerim is essential to a strong monarchy. We have such plans to improve it. It will be a jewel among cities. I must show you my plans for a university, Maude—and a national library. We considered keeping only the city, and enlarging the Dragon's Peak bannorn into an arling, but we did not quite feel that Sighard was likely to give us his full support. So Denerim it is. We shall still face resistance, even though this was, after all, the teyrnir of Calenhad; but we feel that our plan for Gwaren will be proof of our good faith."
"And that is?" Loghain asked. Anora was clearly Up to Something.
His daughter eyed Maude with grave sympathy. "It is not easy to let go of a place that means so much to me. I could only bear it, if I knew it would be in good hands…in the hands of family…" She smiled at Alistair, resting her long-fingered hands on her swollen belly. "There is nothing so precious as family."
"Absolutely," Alistair agreed. "Absolutely nothing. So precious."
Loghain waited impassively. Maude was being remarkably inscrutable, waiting for Anora to disclose her scheme. Perhaps the explosion in Amaranthine had done her some good after all, for she was much more controlled now.
"Both of you," Anora said, "are Grey Wardens, sworn to defend this land against darkspawn and evil. As such, you cannot hold titles. It seems cruel, Maude, when after all you have done for this nation, you received no personal reward at all." She let the words drift away. Alistair looked very sad.
"So we thought of a way to recognize you both and honor your sacrifices, while not impinging on your current duties. Therefore," she said, taking a breath, "we shall propose that your firstborn child will be made heir to the Teyrnir of Gwaren. If the Maker does not bless you with offspring, the fiefdom will revert to the Crown at your deaths."
Loghain stared at his daughter. Alistair must have told her about the impossibility of two Grey Wardens conceiving… He glanced at Chantry Boy, who was still looking sad, until his mild hazel eyes were caught by Maude's unwavering stare, and then he blushed, and looked a little ashamed.
Loghain did not allow his impassive façade to crack, but he was almost shocked at the sweeping cynicism of Anora's ploy. The Landsmeet did not know that Maude was barren and that Loghain was now sterile. Maude would be too proud to tell anyone, and it was a Grey Warden secret, anyway. Those who knew Maude and felt obligated to her—or who loved her, like Fergus—would support this. All of Fergus' banns would support it. Delilah would support it too. Probably Bryland, who was related to them.
And Eamon Guerrin would not dare oppose it. Whatever his history with Loghain, he owed his life, his wife's life, his son's life, and his brother's life to Maude. It was she who had made the alliance that had saved Ferelden. Everyone who was anyone knew it, because Eamon had gone on about it at the last Landsmeet! How could he possibly oppose Maude's child being made heir to Gwaren without making himself appear the vilest of ingrates? And Teagan liked Maude, and would probably support her vocally. Yes, a majority would vote for it. Anora would have Denerim, and Gwaren too, in time. Nothing more likely, if by then she had produced another child, in addition to the kingdom's heir.
There was a long silence. Maude came forward, her eyes suspiciously damp. She kissed Anora on both cheeks, and smiled brilliantly.
"What a sound scheme!" she declared, her voice vibrant with conviction. "How clever you are! I think it's absolutely brilliant. Do let's have a drink to it!"
Loghain looked at her warily, out of the corner of his eye.
Notes— Thank you, my reviewers: Josie Lange, Enaid Aderyn, mille libri, cloud1004, wisecracknmama, Gene Dark, Phygmalion, Shakespira, Zute, Kira Kyuuketsuki, Spoit0, Costin, Judy, Jyggilag, JackOfBladesX, hyperfuzzy, mutive, Fastforwarmotion, Juliafied, Iapetus, Tyanilth, Duel Soul, Lehni, Jenna53, Anime-StarWars-fan-zach, icey cold, and Menamebephil. I'm glad you support my continuation of this adventure.
If you've been enjoying this story, I'd appreciate hearing from you. My reviewers have such interesting ideas!
Maude refers to her companions as warriors in her description of the fight in Howe's dungeons. I know that Zevran's designation is rogue, but that is all game mechanics. Such a distinction was certainly never made in our own Middle Ages, when any fighter would be described by the umbrella term "warrior." I don't believe Thedosians would use the term. What we call a rogue they would describe as a lighter-armed warrior who specializes in speed, accuracy and stealth. Maude certainly began as a "rogue," but became stronger throughtout her adventures, and now wears heavy armor.
As to Maude's story of the Highever massacre-canon needed embroidery. Don't tell me that the ferocious Eleanor Cousland ever kissed anyone's foot. Howe says it in canon, but it's unbelievable. Bryce was already near death, and Rendon had no more leverage over her at all.
