Chapter Thirty-Six: Aqunaran

It was the noontime sun that saw them approach the aqunvaraad. A long row of massive dark ships lay against the horizon, sails furled but flags flying with the brilliant red blazon of the House of Tides. To the east, the barricade seemed endless. To the west was the same. The entire southern coastline of Par Vollen was guarded by a massive and impenetrable naval unit.

Marian was at the tiller. Isabela had given up trying to keep herself awake just before dawn, and the Champion had been more than willing to trade off. It was only fair. The captain was now curled up in the sailcloth, but it looked more like she was trying to keep herself hidden from the rest of the world as much as to keep off the sun and spray. Varric was back on watch, still groggy, but his mind and attention both sharpened when the Qunari ships came into view. Taarbas and Fenris were back to rowing but with significantly less urgency. It was the calm of reaching the home stretch, and Marian couldn't fault them for it.

As she had with Isabela, Asari was sitting beside Marian at the stern. It was uncertain if she had slept at all, but she didn't look any worse for wear. The baby was awake again and drinking more of the elfroot-spindleweed potion. Marian had suggested adding a few drops of lyrium to increase the potency. If someone else had thought it a good idea (and said idea had worked save for the digestion issue), it couldn't hurt to keep trying. As a Templar, she knew what the blue liquid was capable of, and she hoped that it actually helped. Thus far, the baby wasn't complaining.

"They will ask questions," Asari suddenly blurted nervously. "Please...let me talk."

"There is some reason I shouldn't speak for myself?" Marian's tone brinked on incredulous.

"These ships are military. When you first met our Arishok, was he open to listening to you?"

"No."

"Then I hope you understand my insistence."

The course was maintained for a ship directly ahead. Asari stated that it didn't matter which ship they approached and boarded, merely that they get to one. They were a definite curiosity out there in the open. The closer they got to the naval ships, the more they were able to spot inquisitive Qunari sailors lining up along the railings, poking their heads out of portholes, or pausing from their places amidst the rigging.

It was a silent several minutes as they drew up alongside one of the ships. The Qunari watched but said nothing audible—not even to each other—as Hawke and her tiny grew gathered themselves up and prepared to do whatever it was that they needed to get help. Asari moved to where she was most visible and waved up to the sailors, declaring her rank and that the others were Qunari or basalit-an. Marian ducked over to awaken Isabela and coax her into the open. The pirate fought her at first, practically quaking with fear at the prospect of captured over the ordeal with the Tome no matter that it had been resolved years before.

Marian gently grasped her by the soldiers. "They have to come through me, first. You know that." And with a smile that masked her own fears, the Champion hugged her friend tightly as if that act alone would keep Isabela completely safe.

Rope ladders with wooden rungs were eventually dropped over the side along with ropes to tether the small fishing vessel to the much larger ship. The companions climbed in pairs. Taarbas and Asari went first, followed by Fenris and Varric, and finally by Marian and Isabela. Swoop whined as he paced about in circles, but there was naught that could be done for him just then. Mabari might be some of the smartest creatures in Thedas, but they couldn't climb ladders without those enviable thumbs. Huffing a breath through his nose, he turned one more time and laid himself down to wait.

It felt like the whole crew was waiting for them when they set foot on deck. Row upon row of Qunari stood upon the dark wooden planking with elves trying to push their way past the taller humans and kossith to get a better view. There were no dwarves. The realization made Varric feel a bit like a rare gem in a pile of charcoal...but a rare gem in a pile of charcoal in a booby-trapped room full of smugglers. He stepped closer to Asari and really wished that even touching Bianca wouldn't be seen as an act of war. He could have used the comfort.

There was a barked order in gruff Qunari, and the entire crowd suddenly snapped to attention, arms straight to the sides and faces staring blankly forward. Marian and the others, however, looked to where the sound came from. With purposeful steps, a kossith female was descending the stairs from the aft castle deck. Her skin was a dull silver, her horns like they were carved from dark slate. Her eyes were a piercing rusty gray, and her bearing was tall and broad. Her hair was long on top but shorn close to her scalp at the back of her head, giving her an odd look of feminine masculinity. Her clothing was simple. She wore a fitted, sleeveless tunic of crimson linen, cropped beneath the bustline to expose a tight midriff patterned with blood-red tattoos. Her arms were covered with more of the same along with bronze cuffs that looked more like they served as protective bracers than decoration. She wore long trousers of black leather belted with sashes of red and white. Her feet were bare.

"Shanedan, aqunaran," Asari said to her with a nod of the head. "Our thanks for allowing us aboard. Your charity does you great hon-"

"I don't need the ceremony, tamassran," the other kossith female snapped, her arms crossing over her chest as if in defiance. "I find Qunari adrift in a rowboat. It's my duty to bring them aboard. It's not charity." Her eyes drifted over each of them in turn, her brow furrowed as she took in the layers of dried blood and filth, bruises, wounds, and weariness. Her gaze became more scrutinizing when it found Marian, her mind trying to puzzle out the human armed as karasten, dressed as ben-hassrath, and wearing the insignia of taarbas. "Who are you?"

Asari took a step forward, "We are-"

"I asked the human, tamassran. Not you."

Asari paled, gulped, and fell back into line beside Varric. Hesitantly, he reached up a hand and squeezed hers to reassure her, but her squeeze back was so feeble, he knew his effort had been in vain.

Marian looked from her friend to the other kossith female and back again, slight confusion marring her features. She had expected a tamassran to be respected by all other ranks amongst Qunari, given their overall purpose. What she was seeing was quite the opposite. She attempted to clear her throat before she said anything. Why was her mouth suddenly so dry?

"My name amongst basra is Marian Hawke," she stated more clearly than she expected of herself. "Since leaving Kirkwall, I've been known as basalit-an, viddathari, ashkaari, banisera, and most recently ben-hassrath. Clarifying is a very long story. Those with me are Qunari or basalit-an."

"And how is it that we plucked you from the sea in a boat from Kont-Aar?" Aqunaran, as Marian could only guess that to be her title from what Asari said, gestured to the sail painted with a fading symbol of the House of Tides. "The last vessel to come from that port was full of frightened warriors, disgracing and pissing themselves over some nonsense about vashun. They said the city was gone." She glanced over to Taarbas with his smearings of black warpaint. "Yet, here you are."

Isabela sputtered in disbelief, forgetting herself and her fear for all the rage she suddenly felt. "You mean to say that you knew about the situation on shore and you didn't send help?" Marian quickly grabbed her before she could leap across the deck and pummel Aqunaran to the ground.

The female kossith's eyes narrowed further. "Our duty, bas, is to protect Par Vollen. The Triumvirate did hear the cowards out, those we let pass. The Arishok maintained confidence in his warriors posted to the colony, and we were ordered to hold. There was no further distress."

"And your inaction left them all to die," Asari exclaimed, authority flooding into her voice in place of the frantic emotions she actually felt. "Over thirty thousand Qunari fell victim to the vashun 'nonsense'...and you just sat here and didn't even try to investigate?" Her tone almost fell to pleading by the time she was done, but that didn't change the fact that she'd stormed across the short distance between them and was glaring directly into the other's impassive face.

"I was following orders," came the heated retort.

Asari's face flared scarlet. "Men blindly follow orders. Women think. One ship of fleeing soldiers would not sway the Triumvirate, no, but I would expect the smoke of the dead to arouse suspicions in the entire naval blockade that could see it!" The woman jabbed her finger viciously back in the direction they had come, the baby gurgling in protest against her chest. "For days we burned them," she practically screamed, tears of frustration pouring from her eyes, "and you just sat here."

Aqunaran stood firm only for a moment more before she let out a long breath and deflated with it. The sailors around her gave no reaction to the argument that had exploded, and for that, she was certainly grateful. The entire blockade had been ordered to stand fast, that defense of the coastline was of utmost importance and their only priority. She had seen the massive column of black and acrid smoke that had risen from the distant horizon where Kont-Aar lay. She knew the other aqunaran had, too. But the Triumvirate dictated, and they obeyed. She would not feel ashamed for doing her duty to the Qun, but she wasn't so sure how her conscience would feel in the future if what the tamassran said was right.

It was another minute before anyone said anything. Aqunaran stared at Asari, and Asari glared right back. Marian and Isabela exchanged uneasy looks while Varric fidgeted, tugging at the collar of his open jacket like it was somehow too tight. Fenris and Taarbas were expressionless yet tense, very much like the mass of sailors standing about them who were pretending to be disinterested. There was no telling how this would turn out for anyone, and the Kirkwallers were still too unfamiliar with Qunari behavior to hazard a guess.

"You should get cleaned up," Aqunaran said finally, motioning across the deck to a coil of cloth-covered piping wound about some sort of pump. "The whole lot of you reeks of vashun. Clean clothes will be provided." She simply snapped her fingers and three elves and a human dressed in the garb of viddathari dashed off in response. "Luncheon is being prepared as we stand here...wasting time. We will discuss what needs to be done as we eat."

And without any other acknowledgment to the group, she turned and walked off in the same direction she had come from. Females dressed similarly but with no body art flocked to her, and immediately started rattling off various things in Qunari that could have easily been about the weather or the state of the ship.

There was a small rush of wind. At least, it seemed like there should have been a small rush of wind as everyone released the breaths they had been holding all at once. The Qunari sailors had gone back about their business, and Marian and the others finally felt a little less ill at ease.

"Okay, so what was that?" Varric asked as Asari came back to join them. "Is that what you Qunari call diplomacy? Let me give you a bit of advice: tactics like that didn't help your Arishok with Kirkwall, and they almost didn't help you just then with your own kind. I think you really need to reconsider your problem-solving paradigm."

"I'm sorry," Asari conceded, her attention refocusing on the child she was charged to care for, "but there is one thing you need to understand...and that, yes, I need to remember. Qunari are one thing. But kossith? We are a very passionate people. It has always been so."

"Could have fooled me," Isabela muttered.

"The Qun is meant to keep us tempered. To keep those emotions in check. I...forgot myself for a moment." She looked over to Taarbas. "You should take the others to get cleaned up."

Taarbas merely nodded and began to walk over in the direction of the pump and hose. Fenris followed and grabbed Varric by the arm on the way. The dwarf resisted a little, claiming he was far too shy to bathe in public—especially in front of mixed company, strangers, and ladies he actually had respect for. The elf promised he wouldn't let anyone else see how much chest hair he really had if it was that much of an issue. The genuine laughter that followed was the best thing Marian had heard in days.