35. Unsettled
Meila was not nervous.
Two days ago, they'd come upon a packed road. It was heavy with foot traffic, wagons, and pack animals. Such groups passed theirs once every couple hours, laden with children, the elderly, and all the earthly possessions some of the travelers seemed to have. All the while, the party passed farms and homesteads, every one of them abandoned. Lothering was the apparent destination of all these humans, just as it was for the Wardens.
Lothering. A shemlen settlement made of stone and wood. Stationary. Brimming with the people who had enslaved hers for a thousand years. And she would face it with shemlen, two durgen'len, and a couple of flat-ears.
She was most certainly, most definitively, most obstinately not nervous.
The Wardens had been traveling for over a week now, when the journey should have taken only a couple days. However, Finian had been unable to walk for most of that time, and Kazar was still getting his stamina back after his illness. Or perhaps the mage had never been particularly hardy to begin with; Meila really couldn't say.
Now, at the least, Finian was capable of walking (instead of alternating between hitching rides on the backs of Percival or Alistair), albeit not very fast and only with the aid of a walking stick. Morrigan had been most cross about the elf using her magic staff to help him walk, but he had nonetheless somehow gleaned her permission out of her, as was his knack.
Meila was beginning to pick up on little things like that, after having spent time with these outsiders. It came as a surprise to her at first—though she now knew it shouldn't have—to find that each of her companions was just as prone to subtle differences and idiosyncrasies as any Dalish elf.
Felicity Amell, for example, had a heavy book in her bag. Meila had not initially understood the mage's compulsion to carry such a thing around, as it was heavy and the bearing of it obviously exhausted her. Then, after their flight from Ostagar, Meila had watched as the healer spent a frazzled day caring after the injured flat-ear. That night, the healer had pulled out the book and started reading it and writing in it. Meila had watched as the human had settled right back down, obviously soothed by the process.
Felicity was a Keeper, or as close to one as the shemlen could come. She kept the knowledge of her people, and was constantly seeking to expand it. This was something the other Wardens obviously did not understand, with how they teased her about 'bedtime stories' and 'diaries'… but Meila understood. Meila found it… respectable. A strange thought, concerning a human, but humans, as a whole, were strange.
Like Alistair. All the time Meila had been in Ostagar, Alistair had been the one to try to take control, telling her to stay in camp and whatnot. But only now, as she watched the way he deferred to others, did she realize how very reluctant he had been to perform such a task. He was the most senior of their numbers, but seniority held no importance, for him.
It was all very strange. And yet, it was these various oddities that made it easier for Meila to see the people underneath each face. Perhaps she had judged too harshly, initially.
Even if their people had enslaved hers for a thousand years.
Since stepping out on the packed road, Meila had given up her position at the front of the group to Marnan. The huntress much preferred to walk parallel to them off the road (she just preferred the feel of turf under her feet over packed dirt). As such, when they stopped moving, she could not tell why right away.
Only by peeking out of the trees did she see the cluster of figures up ahead, in front of what appeared to be overturned wagons sprawled across the road.
"Uh-oh." Alistair could be heard whispering as a trio of figures stepped forward to meet them. "Highwaymen. Preying on refugees, I'd bet."
Meila slipped back to the treeline, unslinging her bow. When she saw Garott slip away, she hoped it was to do the same.
"Ho, there travelers!" the cheerful human in front called. Meila was all too aware of other humans approaching them stealthily through the trees, and she slid between a pair of twin trunks so as not to be detected. "So good to see new faces! And led by a dwarf, of all things!"
"I am hardly a thing, ser," Marnan said, openly putting her hand on her axe handle.
"Uh…" the human on the right said. "They don't look much like them others. Maybe we should just let these ones pass."
"Nonsense!" the leader cried, cheerfully turning to Marnan. "Wonderful day, is it not? A simple ten silvers, and you're free to move on and enjoy it."
"Or we could roast you on a spit for free," grumbled Kazar.
"No, no need for any of that," Finian said, limping his way up through the other Wardens so that he stood next to Marnan. He made an unimpressive figure, wearing that friendly smile and leaning heavily on the twisted piece of wood Morrigan used as a staff. "I'm sure we can come to a peaceful agreement, here."
"Ah, yes, see?" the highwayman leader crowed. "What a smart elf you have here, indeed!"
"It's a pretty nice set-up you have going here…" Finian continued, waving at the overturned carts. "The carts blocking most of the road are a nice touch… though a little obvious."
"Well, we certainly appreciate the compliments! You have a bit of experience with such things?"
Finian chuckled. "Oh, you might say so, and not usually from this side." He winked conspiringly and lowered his voice as if to impart a great secret. "As your friend noticed, we're not refugees."
"Well, even non-refugees have to pay the toll…"
"All in good time, my friend!" Fin hobbled forward and put a hand to the highwayman's back, leading him back toward the broken carts. "But the thing is, I notice some things about your operation that you could do a bit better on. First of all… ten silvers is way too low for marks as obviously capable as us."
"Maker's breath," Alistair could be heard whispering as they moved to follow. Meila silently paralleled them, flitting from hiding spot to hiding spot. "He's not bartering them up, is he?"
"Just let the elf do his thing," Percy whispered back.
"Well, I can hardly set the cost any higher," the highwayman said. "Refugees don't tend to have much more than that. To ask more would provoke them to fight, and we don't really need the pointless bloodshed."
"True, true, but that's not the point," Finian said breezily. "You didn't evaluate your mark. You should have scouts out ahead of the ambush point, to let you know about unusual circumstances. Case in point, you haven't even noticed that two of my men have disappeared."
"Wait, what's that?" the highwayman turned to peer back at the group.
"Uh… yeah…" said the second highwayman. "Weren't there another dwarf, or something with them?"
"Good eye!" Fin crowed, slapping said highwayman on the back. "This one's a keeper, good ser!"
"If you had more men, where…"
"Oh, they're around. It… probably won't be important." Finian grinned toothily, but even Meila could detect the threat in the cheerful words. She kept still among the trees. She could hear one of the bandits hiding near her whisper to another one. They were close by indeed.
"Now," Finian continued, after allowing just enough time for that to sink in, "were this my ambush, I'd put archers behind the carts, and maybe even get a mage, for if the marks get frisky. Though those get expensive, and be careful of the blood mages. Oh man, does that get messy." Finian stepped back from the highwaymen and let out a wistful sigh that, had Meila not known better, she would have sworn was genuine. "Ah, I miss it sometimes. Not the blood mages, of course. But the thrill of the trap! The comradery of the gang! And, of course, the weight of the sovereigns in one's pocket! Though…" he looked around thoughtfully. "…I don't suppose you get much coin out here."
"Alas, no." The highwayman also sighed. "At least the picking's easy."
"Well, as easy as picking off the living gets, anyway."
The highwayman's curiosity was piqued. "What do you mean by that, friend?"
Finian laughed, waving at the team behind him. "Where do you think we just got all our nice things? The dead! Ostagar, man!"
"Uh…" said the second. "We heard that's full of darkspawn."
"If it's full of darkspawn, how did we get all this stuff, hm?" Finian winked. "We certainly didn't walk up and ask nicely. No, there's an entire ruin down there, full of abandoned army camps. The king himself left some stuff down there, not to mention several noble houses, and you're here picking off refugees? Heh, good luck with that."
"Will… erm… will you excuse me for a moment?" The highwayman turned and conversed quietly with his two companions, and Meila felt the men in the trees near her shifting nervously. The Wardens, meanwhile, all stayed silent, seemingly reluctant to break the spell. Meila looked over them from her position. Most seemed to be staring at Finian in shock, though she noted that Percival merely had the look of someone who was waiting for something.
She had noted that the shemlen noble and the flat-ear had something of a comradery between them that went a bit further than most of the others', possibly crafted before Duncan had brought them to Ostagar. The fact that a human could be so casually friendly with an elf intrigued her… though it was obvious to her that the human did not regard them as equals, even if he himself wasn't aware of it. And she wondered whether the elf didn't perhaps think of them as more than mere comrades… but she was certainly imagining that.
Then, the highwayman turned back around, and his two fellows ran back to the carts to start gathering everything.
"Well, now, friend! You've given me much to think about! And Ostagar's just down the way, you say? Why, I do grow a bit bored of this old trick myself. Perhaps a change of scenery would do the men some good, eh? Get the blood flowing?"
"That's the spirit," Finian agreed enthusiastically. "Oh, and of course. Your ten silvers."
Finian flipped a coin through the air between them, which confused Meila. Had he not been doing this in the first place to avoid that very thing?
"Much obliged, friend!" With that, the highwaymen started off, loading up one of the carts and heading south. Meila waited in perfect stillness as shadows moved around her, the potential ambushers now following their leader southward.
The Wardens all stayed still and silent while the highwaymen passed. Then, only when they were safely out of earshot, did the beaver dam break.
"That was… what was that?!" Alistair sputtered.
"I don't get it," Kazar said. "What was with the ruse, if you just paid him in the end anyway?"
Finian grinned, holding up two heavy purses he hadn't had a moment before. "What, you think I paid with my own money?"
Marnan, however, regarded Finian grimly. "You realize, do you not, that you just sent those men to their own deaths?"
Finian's grin faded. "Yeah… I do." He paused while he tied the purses onto his belt. "The way I figure it, their deaths would have been just as certain if we'd fought them. Now, it's their choice. In the end, they're willing to risk the danger for a little loot… I just nudged them in the direction."
"By lying to them."
Finian shrugged. "I was also pretending to be another highwayman. Only an idiot trusts a highwayman."
"And a pickpocket, apparently," Marnan said. Then, she walked purposefully past Finian, done acknowledging him. The look on Finian's face was… crestfallen.
As they started forward, once again heading toward town, Morrigan said disdainfully, "I fail to see why we did not simply kill them." Meila left the trees as the road rose up on an old Tevinter stone highway. She followed some steps behind the rest of the group as they traveled.
"No… killing," Percival muttered. "No more than necessary. There's been enough of that already."
"Why? Have you not the stomach for it?"
"Why must you make not wanting to go on a murderous rampage sound like a weakness?" Percival hissed darkly.
"My, my, but that did come to mind quickly despite the fact I never mentioned any such thing. Your quick protestation doth give thee away."
Meila heard it all from outside the fray, as she usually did. It was keeping her vision clearer, perhaps, than that of her companions, to be afforded the outsider's perspective.
Then again, there was perhaps something to be said about always being the one looking in. It grew wearying, sometimes, keeping up her stoic defenses against her companions' encroachments. She had to remain pure… to maintain her independence from the quicklings' matters, so that she would never be forced into a position where she must rely on them for anything. Becoming dependant on an outsider was as good as submission, and submission was a betrayal of the Dalish.
Still… it grew tiring, keeping her mental bowstring constantly pulled so taut.
After some minutes of walking, the trees thinned and gave way to campsites. These were not the robust, homestead campsites of the Dalish, nor the tidy, functional camps of the Ostagar armies. These camps were scattered and disorganized, and heaped with crates and knickknacks in equal measure.
Beyond these camps, down the road and behind a low wall, was a village. Or at least, Meila supposed it must be a village. The squat, stone structures were similar enough to the various ruins she'd seen, including Ostagar. However, these weren't inhabited by undead or human armies, but by shemlen civilians. And so many shemlen civilians. The place was swarming with them.
Meila stopped at the crest where the road turned downwards and wound through the campsites. Something about the sight of the town unsettled her, and it took her a moment to realize what it was: there were children here. This was no army camp, full of human fighters like those who had Marched upon her people. These were the innocent, and the frail, and the frightened fleeing their homes as best they could when their homes could not flee with them.
They would see her for what she was, and hate her or fear her… and she could not rightfully take up arms against them. Not against civilians. It left her at a loss for how to face these people. It was a sensation she did not appreciate.
"Well," Alistair's voice said up ahead, "here we are. Lothering."
"It's like someone poked up a nest of spiders," Garott observed. "They're everywhere, aren't they?"
"Look at all these refugees," Felicity said. "They can't think this is a safe place to stop…?"
"We're planning on stopping here," Kazar pointed out flatly.
"Yes, but we have big swords and the ability to sense darkspawn creeping around," Alistair replied. "They don't quite have the same luxury."
"And we wouldn't be stopping," Marnan said, "if we didn't need someplace stable for you and Finian to finish healing."
"I'm fine," the mage snapped.
"I, however," Finian said softly, "would appreciate the rest." He was still eyeing Marnan apprehensively, and she was still not acknowledging his presence.
"We'll need to figure out what we're going to do before proceeding anyway," Felicity said. "After all, stopping the Blight will certainly not be as simple as walking up to the archdemon and stabbing him in the eye. The chance to study our resources and plan accordingly would not go amiss."
"You're talking about the treaties?" Garott asked.
"In part. Like I said, this is the sort of thing that requires consideration of all possible goals and the most efficient routes to said goals."
"By the Void," Kazar groaned. "You're going to make this into a blasted homework assignment, aren't you? I thought I left that behind when I was recruited into an order designed to kill the living crap out of things."
"Think of it as a learning experience," Alistair said cheekily, obviously enjoying Kazar's unhappiness.
"I don't want to learn! I want to set things on fire! That requires no additional learning!"
They had started toward the town, still arguing. Meila however, found that she was rooted on the top of the slope. She was left staring over the settlement, her stomach in her mouth.
"You all right?"
That was… Percival, strangely enough. The man had been in the back of the group, as seemed to be his habit, and was thus the only one to notice her hesitation. The thought crossed her mind to question why he cared, but she snuffed it before it was given voice.
Instead, she confessed, "I am nervous."
The human's face showed his confusion, and he tried to follow her gaze. "Of what? The town?"
His confusion made her regret the slip. "You would not understand, shemlen."
He looked back at her. "No, I suspect not. Still, if you must wander into the wolves' den, at least you have others to shield your back." The silent assurance under the words surprised her: it was a promise that, should anything happen, the other Wardens would stand by her.
Vir Adahlen. Together they were stronger than one
Meila found herself nodding speculatively and followed Percival as he started down the path. Indeed, she was learning many surprising things about her companions. Now she could only hope that the rest of the humans in this 'Lothering' felt the same.