(Kaassie: eeech. Good catch on the crossbow thing. I think I'll go back and tweak that when I get the chance. I blame my Rule of Cooling it instead of looking it up. Bad author. No cookie for me. As for your first concern, just hold on a few more chapters. :) )

36. The Chantry Sister

"What do you mean there's no room?"

"Inn's full. Chantry's full. Every house has more boarders than floorboards." The Templar looked over the group, then turned back to Marnan. "If you want to set up camp outside with the others, no one's going to stop you. But you'd be far better just moving on."

Marnan could not stifle a pang of annoyance at such an inconvenient twist, but it was hardly the Templar's fault. As far as she could tell, the man was doing the best he could.

"Who is in charge here?" she asked.

"No one, really, since the bann went north with his men. The Revered Mother and the Templar captain, Ser Bryant, are doing their best to make up for the absence, but…"

"May we speak with them?"

He shrugged. "Sure, if you wish. Won't get you any place to sleep, though."

"Thank you, ser," she said with a sigh. As the Templar nodded and walked off, Marnan glanced behind her.

They were in the village proper now, having just come in through the campsites when the Templar had greeted them.

Alistair stood at her right shoulder, with the others trailing behind. Marnan felt a fresh pang of rage as her eyes flicked past Finian. That he'd… she still couldn't believe that seemingly friendly, gentle Finian Tabris had just convinced a group of men to walk to their own deaths.

But she supposed that was the way of it. She'd grown up in a nest of vipers, and the ones with the most dangerous poisons were often the ones who could convince you they weren't poisonous at all.

Bhelen came to mind. He'd always been her ally, she'd thought, always good for a bit of support when Trian got too uppity. He'd been able to smooth over with a smile and a few words any commotion caused among the Nobles regarding Marnan's frequent trips out with the Warriors. He had been a welcome island of sanity among the hair-pulling madness of the Diamond Quarter.

Then, he had betrayed both her and Trian, all while wearing that charismatic smile.

Finian was perhaps a different species from her brother, but a poisonous snake was still a poisonous snake. She was ashamed that she had been fooled by the act. And the fact that he still held consternation in his eyes as he watched her… she would be a fool to believe any expression he put on his face from now on. To people like him, everything was a mask.

"The Chantry is right there," Alistair said, nodding toward a large building up ahead. "Shall we?"

"You're kidding, right?" Kazar's voice snapped. He was glaring at Alistair, arms crossed and eyes narrowed in a posture Marnan had long since attributed to an imminent rise in his temper. "I'm not going in there. It's bad enough that the Templars have taken over the town."

"They had to, Kazar," Felicity reasoned. "With the bann's forces gone, no one else is around to impose order."

"So they need Templars to lay down the law?" He scoffed. "Whatever, as long as they don't bother me. But that doesn't mean I'm walking in there and offering my head on a platter for them."

He turned and started off.

"Good idea, kid," Garott said, making the elf pause before he could get too far. "I think I see a tavern across the stream, and it's been way too long since I had a drink. Anyone wanna join?"

Finian cast one more glance at Marnan, then smiled tiredly at the duster. "I could use a seat."

"And I," Morrigan said, "could use my staff back. Thus, I must accompany you to this establishment, lest you squirrel it away."

"I wish to see the Chantry," Felicity said suddenly. "Outside the Tower of Magi, the Chantry scholars keep the best archives in Ferelden. I've never had a chance to peruse a Chantry library."

Marnan nodded her approval. "Very well. We will see if we can't speak with this 'Revered Mother'…" She was still uncomfortable with the nuances of surface religion. "Then, we will meet you there." She started toward the Chantry.

Alistair fell into step behind her, but he did call out to the other group. "Finian, see if you can't use those weird mind control powers of yours for good and get us a couple inn rooms. I'm so sick of sleeping in a tent."

"I'll see what I can do," the elf joked, and Marnan's hackles rose. "Though I have to warn you… the laws of nature are a bit outside my power, as of yet."

"You'll just have to keep working on it, then."

Marnan marched resolutely toward the Chantry, and only looked back when they reached the entrance into the courtyard. Alistair paused in following her, looking startled by the glare she leveled at him. Coming behind him were Felicity and, farther back, Percival. Everyone else had turned and was heading across the river toward the inn.

"What?" Alistair said, looking confused.

"I can't believe you're encouraging him." She spoke sternly, but softly enough that her voice wouldn't carry across the square.

"Who, Fin? Wait… you're actually really upset about the highwaymen, aren't you?"

"Aren't you?"

Felicity broke in thoughtfully, "He did make a good point on the road, Marnan. If we'd fought them, their deaths would be assured. Now, they have a chance of survival, though slight, as well as a chance to change their minds."

"At least a fight," Marnan growled, "would have been honest." She whirled on her heel and stomped the rest of the way to the Chantry. After a moment, she heard the others following.

However, when she pushed through the doors, only Alistair and Felicity came in with her. Percival stopped at the threshold and, for a long moment, stared up at the front of the chapel with blank eyes.

"I… I have to go." He all but fled, leaving the three of them wondering. Alistair seemed to be biting his lip.

"Alistair," Marnan said, breaking the silence that had ensued. "How might we recognize the Revered Mother?"

"Oh, trust me. We'll know her when we see her." Alistair turned and led the way into the chapel, and Marnan took the time to study the religious space. Felicity did the same.

The Chantry would usually have been grand, in its own way. It had high, arched ceilings, and plentiful decorative columns and carvings. It was built out of solid stone, which Marnan was dwarf enough to appreciate, though she'd never really held much interest in building things herself.

Now, however, most of the floor space was packed with bedrolls and supplies. People idled near the edges of the room, seeming to have nothing to do but stand about and pray to their Maker.

The Wardens passed refugees and priestesses alike, and turned a corner. "Aaaand there she is." Alistair waved a hand, indicating an older woman who was sitting in an alcove, her head bowed with exhaustion. Marnan couldn't help but pity the burden she must bear, trying to keep control over such a chaotic town.

Standing over her was a man in Templar armor, though he had his helmet tucked under one arm. He, too, looked tired, and he spoke to her in a soft, wearied tone. From what snippets drifted toward them, it was a report regarding the local availability of food stores.

Marnan approached the pair with respect. She may not have followed the Chantry, but people who would do so much for so many deserved what honor she could afford them.

The man stopped speaking as they approached, and they both turned to the Wardens with expectant expressions, though their eyes weren't unkind.

"I apologize for the intrusion. My name is Marnan. Are you the Revered Mother?"

"Yes, I am. Can I help you with anything?"

"We are Grey Wardens in need of assistance. We were wondering if there were any help you could offer."

"Oh. Oh dear." She looked up at the Templar, who now bore a worried expression.

"Grey Wardens?" he said. "There is a bounty on any information pertaining to your whereabouts, and a higher one for your heads. You must know this."

Alistair's spluttered "W-what?!" echoed through the chapel, and Felicity frantically shushed him.

Marnan decided it best to lower her voice. "No, we did not. Who issued such a bounty?"

"Teyrn Loghain," the Templar said.

"THAT SON OF A-"

"Alistair, hush!"

"I am sorry to be the one to deliver such news." The Templar bowed his head in greeting. "I am Ser Bryant, the captain of the Lothering Templars. Rest assured, I do not believe the reports, so you will not be harassed by any of my men while you are here."

Marnan could hear Alistair and Felicity holding a furious, whispered conversation behind her. "What reports might those be, precisely?"

"The report handed down from Denerim is that the Grey Wardens betrayed the king at Ostagar, and left him on the field to die."

"That's a lie!" Alistair roared. "Loghain betrayed the king! Most of our order died fighting by the king's side, while he walked away!"

"I… find that almost as hard to believe," Ser Bryant said uncertainly.

"You put us in a difficult position," the Revered Mother broke in. "We can not be seen to aid you; you must know this. All I can promise is that we will keep your presence here a secret."

"Then that is all we will ask," Marnan said, even as she heard a protest raised behind her. "Thank you."

"I apologize, Grey Wardens. Good luck to you."

Disappointed, Marnan turned and led her companions away from the alcove. However, they'd barely left earshot when a Chantry sister slipped smoothly out from behind a bookcase to meet them, making no attempt to hide the fact that she had been eavesdropping.

She smiled brightly and smoothed a strand of short red hair behind her ear. "You are Grey Wardens, yes?"

Marnan was surprised to hear that her accent wasn't Fereldan, but rather Orlesian. Standing on the border between the two countries as Orzammar did, Marnan was well familiar with the current charged relationship between the two nations. At least, the theory of it, from what trickled in through traders.

"So you heard that, did you?" Alistair said, half sarcastic and half sheepish. Felicity's hand on his arm seemed to have calmed him, at least.

"I am Leliana. You said you were looking for help against the darkspawn. That's why I am coming with you."

Marnan was both amused and taken aback by the girl's boldness. "I'm sorry, but our path will be very dangerous—"

"I can fight," she interrupted, not missing a beat. "I have daggers, and I'm a good shot with a bow. And I have picked up other skills in traveling that might be of use to you."

"Where would a Chantry lay sister learn how to shoot a bow?" Felicity wondered sincerely.

"I was not always a sister. Please, I will not be a burden, I promise."

"Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but…" Alistair said, "why would you want to join us?"

"The Maker wants me to go with you," Leliana said with confidence. "He sent me a dream."

"Oh, is that all…"

Felicity appeared confused. "But Chantry canon dictates that the only one the Maker has ever spoken to directly is Andraste. Particularly since her death. I haven't read any accounts of such holy visions."

"What I saw was real," Leliana pressed. "I know it was. The Maker needs me to help you in this troubled time."

"Right," Alistair grumbled. "And I'm the King of Ferelden. And this dwarf here? She's a magical dwarf, who spits candy and swings an axe forged from wishes and starlight."

"For all you know, Alistair," Marnan said, "that may be true." Then, she turned back to the priestess, studying her. Beneath the Chantry robe, the human was certainly fit enough… better than some of the priestesses she had glimpsed at Ostagar, anyway. Marnan was inclined to believe the Orlesian when she said she had combat experience.

Then again, the dwarf's faith in her own ability to judge people had been very recently shaken. Thus, Marnan did what any great leader did when necessity dictated it: she deferred.

"Felicity, what are your thoughts?"

Felicity looked startled at being addressed. Then, she said, "Well, we certainly do need all the help we can get, and having someone with an association with the Chantry could hardly go amiss. If we are indeed to be hunted, we will need all the potential allies we can scrounge up, particularly if they have access to connections the rest of us do not."

Leliana was nodding along thoughtfully, Marnan noted.

"With that in mind, we do intend to stay here for several days… although, come to think of it, that may prove quite risky, if we've a bounty on our heads. Then again, I can't imagine Finian could travel much farther without a break. I do need to tend to... oh, I'm digressing, aren't I? Regardless, if we are staying for a time, we hardly need to come to a decision immediately. Thus, we can test out Leliana's skills—with your permission of course, Leliana—in order to confirm that they will, indeed, prove beneficial to us. Such a trial period will also allow Alistair to come to a decision about whether or not she is as mad as he obviously believes she is."

Alistair cracked a smile at that one. "Picked up on that, did you?"

Felicity returned the expression. "I daresay Kazar could have picked up on it, and his grasp of subtlety equates to freezing things so that they shatter instead of making them explode in a blinding ball of fire."

"Healing magic and insulting Kazar? You are the best mage ever."

Marnan did not miss the flush that came to Felicity's cheeks at that, and she made a mental note to keep an eye on that situation. Even so, she turned back to Leliana, who watched the exchange with an amused smile on her face. "Very well, Leliana. Will you consent to a trial period while we stay in Lothering?"

"Of course I will. Oh, you won't regret it!"

"Please, see that we don't." Even so, Marnan smiled, feeling optimistic for the first time since setting foot in this town.