I wasn't up for much travel, and Alistair and our new favorite murderer weren't in much better shape. So as soon as we'd brought Bodahn's wagon around on the side track Leliana had scouted out for him, we started looking for a good place to make camp.
"Alistair," Wynne said to him as he walked past her with a rock for the firepit, "You're limping. What happened?"
"He sprained his knee in the fight," I told her, angry that she had noticed his pain before I did. That was my job, damn it. And why hadn't she healed it before? That was her job.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, dear," she said, so evidently she agreed with me. "I must have healed it partway as a side effect of healing your shoulder, but I failed to realize you had other injuries."
"It's fine, really," he said, dumping the rock and turning to get another one, but he winced when he picked it up. The knee must be stiffening up now.
"I'll finish the pit, Alistair," Leliana offered. "You can relax."
I dropped my last load of firewood and sat down beside him, worming my way under his arm so he could lean on me if he wanted. Also, it was an excellent excuse for cuddles. I was learning that, as long as he could pretend he had some practical reason for letting me touch him, he wouldn't blush and shy away.
The evening passed pleasantly enough, with the usual idle campfire conversation and assignment of watches. We ate a savory ham and pea soup and Rocky got the ham bone, so everyone was happy. Zevran, we decided, would sleep on the ground within sight of the fire, so whoever was on watch could easily keep an eye on him.
The elf kept his mouth shut and his eyes open.
The following day, around noon, we crested a small hill and saw our destination: Orayan's Cross, a trading post that had sprung up at an intersection between the South Road and the Brecilian Passage. The town was shaped in a semicircle around a broad plaza, which was full of tents and canvas-covered booths striped in bright primary colors.
"Hey, a fair!" Alistair pointed happily to the colorful display.
"Is that special?"
"It means good shopping," Leliana told me as Bodhan drove his mules towards a line of hitching posts. He left Sandal with the wagon and bustled off to do some business, and I started to follow him, but remembered our newest crew member.
I turned to frown at Zevran. "What are we going to do with you?"
He smiled. "While I am a bit hampered by this arm, which was so recently broken by a vision of loveliness, I am still available for any number of uses. Indeed, with a bit of creativity, one can turn adversity into a surprisingly titillating solution. I remember a certain Orliesan beauty with one leg -"
"Are you trying to be funny?" Alistair asked gruffly.
"He's succeeding," I said with a snort of laughter. "Fine. Leliana, make Zevran stay with you and don't let him assassinate anyone. Rocky, stay with Leliana." He whined. "Stay with Leliana!" I repeated firmly, and marched off, dragging Alistair by the hand.
"Where are we going?" he asked, stumbling as I pulled him off-balance with my shorter stride.
"Shopping," I said. "You're going to show me around."
Merchants hawked their wares, some going so far as to wave them in our faces – a man selling fabric thrust a bolt of silk at Alistair, telling him he should be dressing me better, and a woman with a plate of sweet rolls popped up in front of me and shoved the plate under my nose. It worked; soon she was a few coppers richer, and I had very sticky fingers.
Speaking of sticky fingers, at a gentle tug on my belt pack, I spun and snagged the wrist of a skinny, filthy little boy in mid-pocket-picking.
"Wrong target, my friend," I said pleasantly. He reacted by whipping a knife out of his pocket and slashing at my hand; I let go quickly, and his tactic might have worked, except Alistair scooped him up, pinning his arms to his body. The boy thrashed and kicked futilely at his armor.
"Now what?" Alistair asked, grimacing as the boy tried to bite.
"One second." I fished around in my pack for the jerky I always carried now, and thrust it into the boy's free hand, wrapping his fingers around it. "Take it and go," I said to his wide-eyed, bewildered face.
"I should let him go?" Alistair asked. I nodded, and he dropped the kid, who vanished without a second glance.
"I get the charity thing, but why not give him money?" Alistair craned his neck, trying to see where he'd gone.
"If I give him money, his boss would just take it away, or someone bigger would steal it from him. Food, though, he can eat that right now." I scowled for an instant, remembering my mother taking every cent I 'earned' and spending it on cheap wine, but the thought was quickly replaced by the sight of a farmstand selling fruit.
"Oooh!" I dashed to the booth and started pawing through the baskets, looking for strawberries.
Alistair watched for a few minutes before apparently figuring out what I was doing. "There aren't any more strawberries," he said apologetically.
"How do you know?"
"Because it's too hot, and too late in the year. There won't be any more until next year."
I stared at him, horrified. "Next year?"
"There's probably blueberries," he said hurriedly. "And soon there will be raspberries."
Weren't raspberries a noise? Apparently they were also a berry. I scowled at him. "Why is your food so fickle?"
So he explained about seasons. Weather, it seemed, was an unfaithful bitch, and I finally understood what Morrigan had meant when she'd said a long quest might mean I'd see snow. Worse than that, apparently it got so cold that water could freeze! People could freeze!
"All right, so the weather is trying to kill us, what else is new," I said, looking back at the fruit. I paid the farmer for a basket of blueberries and wandered off again, cradling the basket tightly to my chest and occasionally dropping a few berries at a time into Alistair's hand rather than give him direct access. Sharing food was still difficult, I realized, even though my new life had plenty of it. I knew we could just buy more, but still... My berries!
At least I wasn't hiding scrambled eggs in my pockets anymore. That had turned out to be a really bad idea.
Alistair poked at my fingers laced protectively over the berry basket. "Can I have more?"
"What will you give me?" I countered.
"Uh..." He patted his pockets and came up with nothing. "Gratitude?"
"I might trade berries for kisses," I told him with a sly grin.
He looked panicky. "Now? But there's all these people -"
"Then I guess you don't really want these berries," I sniffed, popping a fistful of them into my mouth and chewing noisily. "Mmmmmmm... They're soooo good."
"Wait!" He put his hands on my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. "There, what does that get me?"
I gave him a disgusted look, carefully picked out the smallest berry and held it out to him.
"Aw," he whined, looking at the minuscule berry, but now I was distracted again.
"Look, shoes." I trotted over to the red-and-purple striped booth and its racks of clothing and footwear. What had caught my eye were a pair of sandals, made of leather dyed blue and tied with a pretty blue satin ribbon. I put down my basket and picked up one of the sandals, turning it over. It had a good, thick leather sole, too. A girl could actually walk in these.
"How much?" I asked the attentive merchant.
He eyed me carefully, trying to judge how much I'd be willing to pay, and caught sight of my brand. I could tell the instant he did so, because he turned several shades paler under his tan. He snatched the shoe out of my hands and looked pleadingly over my head at Alistair. "Ser, please, don't let your servant touch my wares."
"Serfan'?" Alistair mumbled in surprise, his mouth full of stolen berries. He swallowed hard and surrendered the basket to me before leaning forward and placing his hands on the table. "You have no idea how not my servant she is. Now, please give the lady a price before anyone does anything they will regret."
The flustered merchant stammered for a moment before naming a price that sounded pretty good to me, but Alistair scowled at him until he shaved off another couple coins before he paid the poor man, who wrapped them in a piece of plain cloth so they wouldn't get dusty.
"I guess he's been to Orzammar," I said as I examined the crevices of the basketweave, looking for lost berries.
"He was incredibly rude!" Alistair sounded outraged and I looked up at him, startled.
"He just knows what this means, that's all." I tilted my head to show him the geometric symbol around my right eye, and the two smooth black lines that traced the curve of my cheekbone and jaw.
"It's not just decoration?" He cupped my cheek in one hand and brushed his thumb over the markings.
"No, it's a brand. It means I'm the lowest of the low, casteless, remember? No place in society, no job options except theft or prostitution or marauding the Deep Roads. I told you this already, why are you making me tell you again!" I'd started out casual, but having to remind him again had stirred up enough shame and resentment that I jerked my head out of his hand and started walking again.
"I'm sorry," he said as he jogged after me. "It's just so hard to think of you as anything less than – well, what you are."
I missed a step as I tried to puzzle this statement out. What I was, was casteless. There wasn't anything less than what I was. Then I saw Morrigan. "Hey, Morrigan!" I called.
She glanced at me from where she bent over a small booth covered in sparklies. A number of nearby merchantmen were missing sales opportunities as they stared in slack-jawed astonishment at our sexy, exotic, almost-naked witch, and customers were bumping into each other and dropping things and generally making fools of themselves. Nobody, however, was brave enough to try to flirt with her.
I bent to see what she was looking at. Mostly costume jewelry, brass and colored glass, and Morrigan didn't seem to know the difference as she extended a longing hand towards a particularly cheap-looking necklace of base-metal wire filigree.
"The lady has good taste," the oily merchant behind the counter simpered, and I glared at him. Liar. Morrigan picked up a different piece, then, a bracelet set with red glass 'stones,' and the merchant added, "Genuine garnet and ruby from the Orliesan court itself."
Alistair went 'oooh' and bent to look, too. Honestly, I was surrounded by rubes. The merchant finally noticed the little woman glaring daggers at him and flinched. I stalked around to his side of the table and asked him in a cold whisper, "Do you have anything real?"
"Please don't tell the guards," he whimpered.
"I don't know, I usually feel honor-bound to report this kind of thing." I rubbed my chin thoughtfully and then pretended to have an idea. "But you know, I heard that gold has a real bad effect on a person's memory. If I suddenly found myself in possession of some genuine gold, I would probably forget all about telling the guards."
"You don't say," the merchant said glumly. He sighed and rummaged around in a small lockbox before producing a gold chain with a gleaming tiger-eye pendant.
"Oh yes, that will do nicely." I palmed the necklace and left, dragging Morrigan and Alistair after me as they cast longing looks over their shoulders at all the shiny things.
"Latitia, Alistair, I'm so sorry, I can't find Zevran!" Leliana's frantic cry came from somewhere off to my right, and she barreled into me before I could react, wringing my hands. "Are you all right? I'm so sorry! I had to go to the toilet and I told Rocky to watch him but they're both gone now."
My stomach froze as visions of a murdered Rocky filled my head, but before I could say anything, a smooth voice cut in from behind me. "Fear not, my dears, we are here."
I turned in time to see a shadow detach itself from the crowd and form into our missing elf. Rocky still followed a step behind him, staring at him, and I burst out laughing.
"You silly dog," I said between relieved chuckles, rubbing his shoulders as he wiggled in pleasure, "Have you been faithfully watching him just as hard as you can? Oh yes you have, I can tell! What a good watch dog! Nothing gets past you, no ser!" He barked.
Around us, the merchants were beginning to pack up their wares as the sunlight turned ruddy gold, and we made our way back to Bodahn's wagon. Wynne was still there, relaxing with Sandal as he curried the mules and responding affectionately to his occasional happy comment about the animals. Bodahn arrived from the other direction, lugging a heavy box.
"Is there an inn here?" I asked him as Alistair helped him boost the box into the wagon. "What'd you buy?"
"Salt," he grunted. "One of the few things Dalish will trade for. They're awfully proud, you know." The box fell into place and he straightened up, dusting off his hands. "Yes, there's an inn, the Bear's Den. I've already made reservations."
"Thanks, Bodahn," I said, impulsively embracing the surprised dwarf. "You've been our mortar."
The well-kept inn's tavern gleamed with fine woods from the Forest, coated in many layers of varnish until they shone like glass. I cast admiring glances at the paneling on the walls and the parquet floor; these woods were worth their weight in silver back home.
Clumped around the largest table in the corner, a group of military men caroused in a civilized sort of way, singing bar songs with a minimum of sexual or scatological details. Watching them, I had a sudden idea, and cornered the overworked bar wench as she tried to bring them a heavy tray of ale.
"I'll take them this round," I told her, taking the tray before she could work up the energy to complain.
"So, boys," I said cheerily as I set the mugs down. "Where are you off in the morning?"
"Denerim, eventually," said the closest man, a bulky fellow with a luxurious red beard. "We're to join with Loghain's army. He's called on our bann."
"We din' wanna go," added another, farther gone in his cups. "But our bann had t' send someone or he'd get in trouble. He don' wanna mess wit' Loghain."
"Neither do I," I lied easily. "Myself, I need to send a message to the Teyrn and I just don't know who I can trust to carry it. There's so much trouble on the road, I need someone really strong. Someone who's not gonna end up as darkspawn food. Do you know anyone like that?"
"Come on, girlie, look who you're talkin' to," laughed the bearded one. "We'll carry your message."
"What'll it cost me?" I asked, raising a coy eyebrow.
The man grinned, making his beard wag. "If you'll sit here on my lap and sign a song with us, we'll do it for free."
"Um..." Fighting a sudden rush of dread, I glanced at my friends and saw Alistair was watching. That made me feel a little braver and I nodded, forcing a smile. "Sure. What are we singing?"
My patron quickly told me the words and I perched carefully on one of his knees, ready to bolt if he tried anything funny. He rested one huge hand on the small of my back, but I could handle that, so we sang.
"All right, I better go and get that message," I told my patron when the song ended after its inevitable dirty pun. He ruffled my hair affectionately and I trotted off, intending to borrow paper from Bodahn.
But Alistair jumped up from his chair as I passed him and grabbed my hand. "What are you doing?" he demanded in a hoarse whisper.
"Those guys are going to join Loghain's army," I explained. "I got them to agree to take a message to him, and I'm going to tell him that we beat Zevran. That way, Zevran's screwed – he can't ever go back to the Crows because they'll know he's failed."
"But why did you -" He stopped himself with obvious effort, and released my hand. "Right, okay."
Thinking he might have been worried about the Red-Beard hurting me, I assured him, "I wouldn't have done it if you weren't here watching."
I'd been wrong – he looked baffled and a little offended. "What? Why?"
"Because you wouldn't have let them hurt me," I said uncertainly. I didn't know what I'd done wrong, or how to fix it.
Alistair blinked in surprise, then cast a fierce look at the other men in the bar before standing protectively over me. "You're right, I wouldn't," he said, grinning proudly and escorting me on my trip to the wagon.
Bodahn kept extensive notes and ledgers, and I tore out a blank page and borrowed one of his graphite sticks, thankful that he wasn't yet so sun-touched as to write with a quill, because I had no idea how to use them. I brought the supplies back into the tavern and laid the paper on our group's table to compose our correspondence.
Dear Loghain, I wrote. How kind of you to send us a Crow. We're sure we can get a good price selling his gear. Looking forward to seeing you. Hopefully our Mabari won't choke on that blackened, shriveled husk you use as a heart. Regards, the Gray Wardens.
"Nice," Alistair approved, reading over my shoulder. I flashed him a quick grin, folded up the paper and tied it with string. I returned to the jolly soldiers in the corner with my missive; they'd progressed past the 'raucous singing' stage and into the 'I love you guys' phase of drunkenness.
"Here's the message," I told Red-Beard. "Remember, it's very important and it has to go directly to Loghain. It has to do with stopping the Blight."
When he heard the B-word, the man's face turned grave, and he tucked the letter into his breast pocket. "I will deliver it to him myself."
The inn served a venison roast that I found rather tough and gamy, but the others said it was good so I guess I just don't like venison. When bedtime rolled around, we realized we had no idea what to do with our Crow.
"We could take turns guarding him," Alistair suggested.
I rolled my eyes. "We're staying at an inn and you want us to leave our warm beds and stand watch?"
"We cannot simply lock him in and leave him," Wynne joined the discussion. "I sincerely doubt there's any knot or lock we could use that he couldn't escape, given a whole night to do it in. If we're going to keep him a prisoner, we had better be thorough. Otherwise, I'm going to heal his arm now and have done with it."
"That really bothers you, doesn't it?" I said to her. "I had planned to ask you to heal it tomorrow night, after our messenger boys are well out of town."
Zevran's face, which had worn a mask of disinterest, lit briefly. "That is sooner than you had promised. Thank you."
"Yeah, well, we were going to have to give you your freedom eventually," I shrugged.
"Warden, I have never had my freedom, and tomorrow night will be no different. I have sworn to serve you, and we will merely trade chains of steel for chains of the heart," he told me, his eyes suddenly as piercing as the Crow dagger I had hidden in my pack. Then he laughed, and his face returned to its usual easy charm. "Metaphorically speaking, of course."
We gave him a room and dragged a chair in from the tavern so his guard could sit out of arm's reach, and I left Alistair leaning back in his chair, showing off shamelessly by balancing it on two legs with his sword in his lap, with a warning that if he fell over and cut off his hand, I would laugh at him.
Leliana woke me for my watch in the wee hours of the morning and, grumbling, I dragged some pants on and trudged into the elf's room. He watched me with his feline eyes while I made myself comfortable in the too-large chair with my daggers in my lap.
"Sorry about all this," I said after a while.
"Oh?"
"I mean, I know you could escape if you wanted to. You've had any number of opportunities. This whole guarding thing is a farce."
"Then why do you persist?"
"So the others feel better."
"Are you not the leader?"
"Only be accident. I'd rather not bully them more than I have to. Alistair really ought to be in charge."
He laughed, teeth flashing in the dim light. "Somehow I do not think your fellow Warden is leadership material."
"Sod off. You don't get to talk about him." I wasn't really angry, but I wanted to set limits, right now, on this behavior before we had another Morrigan on our hands.
"Understood," he said, shifting around so he was staring at the ceiling again. His broken arm was bound close to his chest, and I could see the bruising around the joint even in the dark room. He fidgeted with the sling with his good hand, wincing as he tried to move it into a more comfortable position.
"Sorry about that, too," I admitted.
"It was a very good move," he replied, looking over at me again with amusement. "I must admit, I never studied full-contact combat. I much prefer a more... intimate sort of grappling."
"You must be a big hit with the ladies."
"I try." After a long, searching pause, he added, "Today's fair was a golden opportunity. I feel as though I know you quite well."
"Huh? Oh. You were following me?" Sneaky bugger.
"Oh yes. The swindler, the prejudiced shoe merchant... The street urchin. Most educational."
I squirmed inwardly, thinking back on the day's events and wishing I had been less affectionate and more of a bad-ass. His bosses had obviously ruled through fear and I worried I would not be able to control him if he thought me weak.
Oh, Stone have mercy, he must have heard I was casteless, too. Oh no...
"So what did you mean when you said you'd never had your freedom?" I asked, taking the offensive.
His face went still and he clearly considered refusing to answer. But eventually he told me, with a very convincing air of casualness that I knew was false because I use it myself, "I was born in an Antivan whorehouse. It is not a life of unbridled joy. And then I was sold to the Crows and, of course, the Crows do not let their property wander about without permission."
"You're the son of a whore?" I repeated, and his eyes darkened before I added, "Me too!"
"You're quite pretty for a son," he said, covering an instant of startled hesitation. "Not that I have any problem with that. Sons, daughters... Both are delicious in their own way."
I rolled my eyes. "Anyway. Not that Orzammar has many actual whorehouses. Most of them are 'independent businesswomen.'"
"And I have only the greatest respect for their achievements. Indeed, some of the richest and most powerful women in Antiva are whores. Men, too, actually." He fidgeted again with his sling and sighed.
I looked at him a bit more closely. He looked distinctly scruffy, nowhere near as smooth and shiny as he'd been when I first met him. "Your hair needs re-braiding."
"It is a bit of a challenge with one hand," he said shortly.
"Ask Leliana to do it in the morning. She loves hair."
"Ah yes, our delicate Orliesan flower. She strikes me as a sweet thing. A shame she has taken Chantry vows."
"Has she?" I asked, surprised. "Like what kind of vows?"
"Oh, poverty, humility... chastity." He heaved a theatrical sigh. "A pity. I have long wondered whether the strict uniform requirements of the Chantry dictate special undergarments."
"Nope, she wears regular panties and a breastband," I said without thinking. Then I clapped a hand over my mouth. "Oh man, I probably wasn't supposed to tell you that. Please don't tell her. I keep forgetting what prudes humans are."
He rolled over and propped himself up on his good elbow, eying me with interest and a sly smile. "And how," he purred, "would you know what Leliana wears under her impenetrable robes?"
I burst out laughing at the insinuation, and at that moment, the door swung open and Alistair stuck his head in.
"I heard you laughing. What'd I miss?" he asked, looking hard at Zevran.
"We're having fun at Leliana's expense," I giggled. "Why are you up?"
"I got hungry." He crossed to where I sat, and reached out to run a caressing hand through my hair. I smiled and leaned my cheek against his hand.
"What brought this on?" I asked, nuzzling his palm and wondering why he wasn't stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking sheepish by now.
"Do I need a reason?"
"No." I bit his thumb and he laughed, finally pulling away.
"Anyway," he said, ruffling his own hair and looking a little flushed, "Do you want anything from the kitchen?"
"Yeah, okay. See if they made breakfast yet. It's almost morning and I could do with some real food."
"Let us all go down," Zevran cut in, sitting up and pushing off his blanket. "I doubt I will sleep any more this morning."
The innkeeper was just putting the day's bread in the ovens, and boiling water for porridge. We made puppy eyes at him until he threw some scrambled eggs together for us, topping them with a sprinkling of shredded cheese and fresh herbs.
"This is the best inn we've stayed at," I said to Alistair as he shoveled eggs into his mouth.
"Yef," he agreed, narrowly avoiding spraying egg across the table. He swallowed and added, "But don't tell Lloyd."
"Oh goodness no. It would break his heart."
After the others had all filtered downstairs and had their own breakfast, we went to Bodahn's spice merchant to ask whether he knew where the Dalish were. The man, Malcam, owned a chain of spice shops from Orlais to Denerim, and considering the Dalish needed to trade for salt regularly to provide salt licks to the halla, we figured he'd know whether any had been to town lately.
The shop smelled amazing, and Morrigan immediately began perusing the large glass jars of herbs, occasionally making small exclamations of excitement under her breath. I hoped she wouldn't want me to spend all our money here. Malcam himself was painstakingly bottling minute amounts of brightly colored powders, probably dyes. I stood near his table and waited patiently until he was finished writing down what he'd done
"Yes, thank you for waiting," he said to me when he finally closed the ledger and looked up. "What can I do for you?"
"We're looking for the Dalish," I told him. "Have any come by?"
"Actually, yes, two days ago," he replied, opening his ledger again and flipping a couple of pages. "Here we go. I was wrong, it was three days ago. Why, do you want to trade with them?"
"We're Gray Wardens, and we want to recruit their help against the Blight," I told him, after a moment's hesitation. There was a chance, of course, that he followed Loghain and would report us, but I thought it far more likely that he cared only for his caravans and would support anyone who promised to end the darkspawn predations.
I was right, his eyes widened. "Thank Andraste someone is doing something! I've lost four wagons this week. I'm going to go bankrupt! I've had to cancel all caravans along the South Road, it's too close to the Wilds."
He paused, and tapped his chin for a few seconds. "I know people say you can't find the Dalish in the forest, but their trail should still be warm. I see you've a Mabari; perhaps he could track them? If you leave right away you might stand a chance of catching them."
"All right, we'll do that," I said, nodding. "Thank you." I herded my friends out of the shop before they could spend all our money in one go.
Long ago in a land far away (actually about 8 miles) a very small, wet, angry WellspringCD was thrust screaming into the world. Today has been Rock Band, Dragon Age, the dog park, and Burger King, arguably an improvement. Ooh! Reviews make AWESOME birthday presents :D
...Just kidding. You guys are t3h r0x0rs and you make my day! Thank you for reading!
