12 Kingsway, 9:30 Dragon
West of Lake Calenhad

‹›‹O›‹›

As they approached the turnoff to Sulcher's Pass, an icy wind blew down from the mountains, and the sky overhead threatened rain.

Rhianna stopped walking, and looked at the road that wound its way east up the mountains.

She was tempted to head up the pass and cross into Orlais. Assuming Loghain hadn't closed the border here as well, that is. There had been no word from Grey Wardens anywhere outside of Ferelden – no word that had reached Rhianna, at any rate. With each day that passed, she grew more desperate to be in contact with someone – anyone – who might be able to help the three of them stop the Blight. Well, the four of them, now that Jowan had been recruited. Not that she had any way of performing a Joining; Alistair had never been taught how to prepare the potion.

Yes, this journey to Orzammar was important, but almost certainly the help of additional Grey Wardens would prove more beneficial than assistance from the dwarves, in the short term anyway. That wasn't the real reason she wanted to travel to Orlais, though. More than anything, Rhianna hoped that once she'd made contact with the rest of the Wardens, the panic that had built up inside of her - a sharp dread that grew a bit stronger each day - would subside. A panic born of being one of only three actual Wardens in all of Ferelden, none of whom had much of an idea about how to stop this Blight.

But what was merely a light drizzle here near Lake Calenhad would turn into snow at higher elevations. She couldn't risk being caught in a blizzard and having all of them freeze to death in the pass.

So, she pulled her cloak close around her shoulders, and continued north on the Imperial Highway. The Grey Wardens would just have to wait. Or, rather, she would just have to wait for them, because surely Wardens were on their way already from somewhere other than Orlais. News of the Blight will have spread by now - to the Free Marches, and Antiva, and beyond. Hopefully to the First Warden in the Anderfels, who was bound to take immediate action against this threat. Perhaps Wardens had already arrived in Denerim, and word just hadn't reached Rhianna's ears yet.

That thought brought a smile to her face, as did the sight of Gwyn, playing in the air currents overhead as the hawk kept pace with the companions.

Thankfully, the past several days had been mostly uneventful, after the first awkward evening in camp with Jowan. That night, as soon as they'd made camp, Wynne strode across the clearing to where Rhianna was setting up her tent. The older woman wasted no time with pleasantries.

"You have no idea what a big mistake you've made."

Maker's balls. Was this about Jowan, again? Did this woman do anything but complain?

Rhianna glanced around the clearing. "What? You don't like the place I chose for us to camp? Next time say something before we've built the fire."

The mage's lips grew tight and thin. "That's not what I'm talking about."

"No?" Rhianna blinked with feigned innocence.

"That man is a danger to everyone and everything around him, and when he does something terrible, I am going to hold you personally responsible."

"Oh. You're talking about Jowan."

"Of course I'm talking about Jowan. He's a blood mage, and you had no business recruiting him into the Grey Wardens."

A spark of anger burst into life in Rhianna's chest. "The First Enchanter didn't seem bothered by the idea. And he knows what Jowan is capable of at least as well as you do, doesn't he?"

Wynne crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Irving is not infallible, and anyway that's not the point. The point is that you took it upon yourself to make a decision you should not have made. I want some assurance from you that you're going to do whatever is needed to keep that man in line."

The anger flared more brightly. "No."

Wynne blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I said no." Rhianna lifted her chin. "Of course it's my intention to make sure Jowan does no harm. But I'm not going to make some promise because you don't like a decision I made. You're entitled to your opinion, and I'm willing to discuss those opinions within reason. But I'm tired of you thinking it's all right to make demands of me, or lecture at me when you don't agree with something I've done."

She arched a brow. "It's a poor leader who will not take guidance from those with more experience."

"And there is a difference between 'guidance' and harassing someone for making a decision you don't agree with. Earlier today, you expressed your opinion that recruiting Jowan was a bad idea. I did listen to what you had to say. I just happen to disagree, and since I'm the one everyone else chooses to follow - the one everyone else relies on to make decisions - I did what I thought was best. As far as I'm concerned, there is no need for further discussion."

"Young lady, you cannot just do whatever you like and expect there to be no consequences!"

"Consequences? I'm more than wiling to face the consequences of my actions. But you act as though I have some selfish motive for the things I've done. I assure you, I don't. All I want is to end the Blight, and I intend to do whatever needs to be done to accomplish this goal. Like I said, you're welcome to disagree with me, but I am not willing to defend myself to you time and time again. If you're not satisfied with my leadership, I won't try and stop you from leaving. We'll be traveling near the Circle in a very few days. I'll be happy to arrange for you to have an escort back there if you like."

"Is that what you want?" Wynne stood straighter. "For me to leave?"

Was it?

"No," she answered truthfully. "We still have a Blight to end, and I could use your help. But I've had enough of these lectures of yours after the fact." She paused. "Did you know Elspeth was made Tranquil?"

"Elspeth?" Wynne's eyes widened. "I . . . no. I was not aware. Although I suppose I'm not surprised. She could hardly have expected anything else after what she did."

"Whether she expected it or not, I saw her, and it was horrifying. To see her completely devoid of emotion, all the life stripped away from her. I was not willing to allow that to be done to Jowan, as well. That is why I chose to ignore your advice, and recruit him. I believe there is still good he can do in this world, and being made Tranquil wouldn't allow him to do it. So I hope I've made myself clear. I do not want to hear more about this in the future."

Wynne stared at Rhianna, lips pursed into a frown. "Very well." She turned on her heel and retreated to her tent.

Rhianna let out a breath. Hopefully, that would be the end of that, and Wynne would take Rhianna's words to heart. What she'd said about the Circle was no idle threat; especially now that Jowan was with them, they could manage without Wynne's healing magic, if needed.

Speaking of Jowan, Rhianna wanted to talk to him as well. In private. This proved easy to arrange. He had set his tent up on the far edge of camp, and none of the others had gone anywhere near him. It seemed that Wynne wasn't the only one who disapproved, but as long as they were quiet about it, Rhianna didn't really care what the others might think.

Jowan sat crosslegged on the dirt in front of his tent, and as Rhianna approached, he looked up at her, eyes narrowed.

"Could we talk for a few minutes?" she asked.

"Um . . . yeah. Sure. Of course." He gestured that she should sit, and Rhianna settled herself on the ground a few feet away from him. "What can I do for you?"

"For starters, I hope Wynne isn't being too awful to you?"

"Wynne?" He shrugged. "Nah, it's all right. She glares at me all the time, but . . . well, I do deserve it, after all."

"No, you don't deserve to be glared at or harassed. When I recruited you, you became one of us. You're a Grey Warden now, or will be once we can find someone to perform the ritual. As such, you deserve to be treated with respect. So if she keeps glaring at you, or says anything rude, I want you to let me know, all right?"

Jowan stared at her, blinking. "All right." He wrinkled his nose. "You know, back at the Circle, Wynne wasn't known for keeping her opinions to herself."

Rhianna had to stifle laughter. "Why am I not surprised to hear that?" She held Jowan's gaze. "But this is not the Circle, and I am not going let her bully you. Or anyone else. Understood?"

A tiny smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "Understood." He let out a breath. "Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Actually, no," Rhianna replied. "I also wanted to talk to you about what happened in Redcliffe."

His shoulders slumped. "You mean with Connor?"

"No. With Eamon. I want to know why you were in Redcliffe in the first place."

"Oh." He bit at his bottom lip. "There's not really anything else to tell. It's just like I said. I was hired by Loghain Mac Tir."

"Hired to poison Eamon, but not to kill him?"

"Yes!" Jowan leaned forward. "Exactly. I was never supposed to kill anyone. No one seems to believe me, but I swear I'm not a murderer."

"I believe you." She paused. "Are you sure it was Loghain Mac Tir who sent you? Absolutely sure?"

"Yes. He's the Hero of River Dane and Teyrn of Gwaren. I'd seen paintings of him and drawings in books and things. Besides, even if I hadn't known it was him, I listened to the templars grumbling about him, and it was Gwaren soldiers who escorted me to Redcliffe."

So, it really was Loghain. But why? Why would he want Eamon out of the way?

"What did he say when he hired you? What exactly did he tell you?"

"He said . . ." Jowan bit at his bottom lip, and looked up at the sky, then back at Rhianna. "He said that he needed me to go to Redcliffe and tutor the arl's son. Grammar and history and that sort of thing as far as everyone else was concerned, but Lady Isolde would know that I was also teaching the boy how to control his magic in secret. But just Lady Isolde. The arl wasn't supposed to know. Then, once I'd settled into the household, I was to poison the arl." Jowan leaned even closer. "The teyrn just wanted me to make the arl sick enough that he wouldn't be able to travel for a few weeks. And then I was to wait for a message when it was time to use the antidote to reverse the poison."

"But why? Did he say anything about why he wanted you to do this?"

Jowan shrugged. "No, and I didn't ask. I wasn't really in a position to ask questions. He just said that if I agreed, I wouldn't be taken to Denerim and executed. Well, he didn't say that part about not being executed, but we both knew that was what waited for me in the city. He said I'd be able to live comfortably in Redcliffe, and Lady Isolde would be grateful – for Connor's sake, I mean, not for the poisoning of her husband. She wasn't supposed to find out about that. No one was. Anyway, of course I agreed. The teyrn got me away from the templars, which is more than I ever hoped for." He gave a barking laugh. "I don't think they were happy about it, either."

"No, I don't expect they were." And yes, that sounded like something Loghain would do. Although how he knew Isolde was looking for someone to teach her son magic in private was still a mystery. One Jowan clearly could not answer.

"Why do you care so much?" Jowan's question surprised her.

"What?"

"I mean, you seem really interested in this. More so than anyone else. I think you asked more questions than Lady Isolde did, to be honest."

"Oh. I'm . . . I'm just trying to understand why Loghain might have done this. It must have something to do with getting Anora safely on the throne. That's the only thing that makes any sense." She paused. "Even so, it's out of character for him. Loghain is the sort of man to face things head on, not go around hiring people to do his dirty work for him. I suppose that's why I'm asking. It just seems . . . strange, that's all."

Jowan nodded. "You know him, don't you? And the arl, and Lady Isolde. You must know all of them. Your name is Cousland, isn't it? So, you knew them all . . . before?"

"Yes. I'm a Cousland, and I've known Loghain for years. Eamon, too, although I don't know him very well. I'd never met the arlessa, though, until recently."

"Hmnh." Jowan wrinkled his nose again. "You know . . ." He exhaled noisily. "Ah, nevermind."

"What?"

"Well, it's just . . ." He leaned close. "It's just that it wasn't all that difficult to poison the arl. I don't mean logistically, I mean that I don't really feel all that bad about it, to tell you the truth." He glanced around. "I probably shouldn't admit this, but, well . . . you said you knew him?"

"Yes."

"Then maybe you've noticed that he isn't a very . . . pleasant person to be around." Jowan shrugged. "At least that was my impression of him." He paused. "I hope you and he weren't . . . friends, or anything? I kind of figured you weren't though, or you'd have agreed to go searching for the ashes right away."

Oh. Had it been that obvious?

"Not that it was obvious," Jowan hurried to add, almost as though he'd read her mind. "But it just seemed to me as though . . . well, you and Bann Teagan seemed to know one another pretty well, and if you'd been friends with Eamon, too, well . . . " Again, he wrinkled his noise. "I hope I'm not way out of line by saying this?"

Rhianna gave a soft chuckle. "No, you're not out of line." She paused. "And you're right. I'm not fond of Eamon. He's . . . well, he's meddled in my life before in ways that I wish he hadn't." She held Jowan's gaze. "What did he do to you?"

"To me?" Jowan shook his head. "He didn't do anything to me. I'm not sure he ever said two words in a row to me. It's possible he didn't even know why I was there. To tutor Connor, I mean. I'm pretty sure he doesn't pay any attention to people he feels are beneath his notice, and I guess tutors fall in that category." Jowan leaned back, his face animated, as though he were allowing himself to relax. "No, it wasn't anything he said to me. It was the way he treated the arlessa. The way he spoke to her, like she was stupid and worthless. Sometimes he yelled, but honestly, it was worse when he didn't. He had this quiet voice that . . . well, he said a lot of cruel things to her, and all in the space of just a few days. I hadn't been there very long, after all. I mean, maybe I shouldn't care." He shrugged. "I know Lady Isolde hates me now, but when I first arrived she was really friendly and gracious, and never anything but kind to me. And to hear the arl speak to her the way he did . . . well, it was horrible."

"Was he that way to Connor, as well?"

"No. He was nice enough to Connor. When he bothered to pay the boy any attention at all." Jowan tilted his head to one side, and gave a little shrug. "Of course, I didn't really know any of them that well. I was only there a week before . . . well . . . you know."

Short time or not, he was observant enough to develop what seemed to be a reasonable opinion of Eamon.

"Yes." Rhianna let out a breath. "I do know."

Even if she didn't understand completely, Loghain must have had a good reason for doing what he did. And Jowan was right – Eamon was not a pleasant person. She almost felt guilty for not being upset by what had happened. If anything, she was more disturbed by Loghain's involvement than by the fact that Eamon had been poisoned. She wasn't sure what that said about her, but it probably wasn't anything good.

"Thanks," she said. "Thanks for talking to me about all this. And welcome. I'm glad to have you along."

‹›‹O›‹›

Since that night, things had been calm. They'd encountered a few bandits along the road, but fortunately, no darkspawn. Most of the time, Jowan stayed close beside Rhianna, and as far away from Wynne as possible. From time to time, he made tentative attempts at conversation, but mostly just walked silently at Rhianna's side. She didn't mind. It was a comfortable silence.

Recruiting Jowan had been the right thing to do.

Not long after passing the turn-off to Sulcher's Pass, they rounded a curve in the road to see a man standing in the shadow of a ruined Tevinter wall. Nearby was a small wagon, it's tongue lying flat on the ground, not hitched to any animal.

When the man noticed their approach, he put his hands up, as if to show he meant them no harm. Or perhaps it was a gesture of surrender, as surely he had more to fear from Rhianna and her friends than they had to fear from this lone man who appeared to be unarmed and without so much as a horse to pull his wagon.

"Good day," he greeted. He had greying hair and light blue eyes, and skin that looked weathered from spending a great deal of time outdoors. "Er . . . you'll have to forgive me if I seem a bit nervous. But I wonder if I could ask your help with something. Not many people traveling in this part of Ferelden at the moment." He scoffed. "Of course, that's part of my problem, isn't it? Mule got spooked by a wisp and ran off into the woods. Now what do I do?"

"Well," Daveth began, with a glance at Rhianna, "probably you should go after the mule."

"Oh, no, I've already sent my helper out after the beast. That's not the problem."

"Then what exactly is the problem?" Rhianna asked.

"Good of you to ask! First, allow me to introduce myself. Felix de Grosbois, merchant and entrepreneur, at your service." His name was Orlesian, although his accent wasn't. "I've been traveling through the Heartlands, and decided to come to Ferelden for the winter," he replied. "A decision I have come to regret." He glanced down the road almost wistfully. "I don't normally take this route, but they're not letting anyone come through Gherlen's Pass, what with the war and all. I was hoping for a bit of luck and good weather in the mountains through Sulcher's Pass. Sadly, so far I've had neither. This trip has been one miserable disaster after another. I don't suppose you'd . . . consider helping a fellow out?"

Rhianna arched a brow. "Just what sort of help do you need?"

"Of all the things that went wrong, the worst is this artifact I bought in Jader. It's a 'control rod,' I'm told. The dwarf I bought it from said it activates and controls a golem. So long as you have it in your hand, the golem does what you say. No point in me keeping it, as I'll never get to use it . . . but maybe you could? Might be useful, no? You look like the sort who could use a thing like that."

A rod that controlled a golem? It did sound useful, if it was legitimate. She'd never seen a golem - creatures made of living stone, much famed as nearly unstoppable warriors. A golem would be good for killing darkspawn, no doubt. Assuming they actually existed, and weren't merely something from children's stories. In all likelihood, this was some sort of scam. Either way it hardly mattered. He was certain to ask a great deal of money for this thing, authentic or not, and Rhianna didn't have coin to spare just now.

Even so, there was no harm in asking. "How much do you want for it?"

"How much?" His eyes grew wide. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

What? He was just giving it away?

"I paid too much to simply throw it away. The fellow I bought it from is a longstanding contact, one who didn't want to come to Ferelden right now with all our . . . troubles, and I bought it from him as a favor. You know, in the interest of maintaining a good business relationship. Now, I don't want to have to lug around something that might be taken for a gemstone by some bandit. But I can't really justify asking money for it. I don't even know if it'll be useful to you. "

What sort of merchant was he, giving away wares for free?

"What's the catch?" Daveth asked.

"The catch?" The man gave a sheepish smile. "Yes, I . . . suppose there is a catch, isn't there? Heh, well . . . the catch is that the golem didn't come with the rod. It's supposed to be in a village in the south, down near Redcliffe, waiting to be activated. I had intended to go down there and collect the thing, but I understand the place has been overrun by darkspawn. You and your friends loo well-armed, though. I don't imagine darkspawn are much of a problem for you, are they? The man I bought it from said he got it from the man who owned this golem, but to be honest, I have no idea if it will work. I can't take your money in good conscience, but I really would like to be rid of the thing. So how about it? What do you say?"

It wasn't every day someone offered a golem control rod.

"I suppose I could try and find the thing, next time I'm in the south," Rhianna replied. They'd be going back in that direction eventually to search for Fergus. If this was legitimate, it would be well worth the effort.

"Excellent!" He took out of his pack a long thin cylinder fashioned out of some sort of crystal. Runes - dwarven, maybe - shimmered softly along its shaft. He offered it to Rhianna, but she shook her head and turned to Morrigan.

"Will you take a look at it first? Make sure it's not . . . well, you know, cursed, or possessed by a demon?"

"Of course." Morrigan stepped forward and held out her hand, and de Grosbois seemed to have difficulty holding her gaze. As soon as he'd handed the rod to her, he took a nervous step backward.

She took the rod gently, rubbing its length with her palm, and then she held it loosely in her hands, her eyes narrow and unfocused.

"I can sense no foul magic about the thing." She offered it back to the merchant, but he waved her away, and gestured that it should be given directly to Rhianna.

It was cold to the touch, but quite pretty. Up close, the crystal glittered faintly with all the colors of the rainbow. If it actually awoke a golem, and this golem proved useful, this would have been a very good deal, indeed.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're more than welcome," he said. "As I mentioned before, you'll find the golem down south. In a town called Honnleath. Just hold up the rod and say 'dulef gar.' That will wake the golem up. Or so I'm told. I hope it works. And if it doesn't . . . well, maybe you could look up the fellow who owned the golem before? If he's still about, that is. Fellow by the name of Matthias."

"Matthias," Rhianna repeated. "I'll try and remember that. So," she continued, "how long were you in Orlais?" Perhaps this man had some news that would be of interest.

"Five months, this trip, in Val Royeaux and then Jader. Buying and selling, although business wasn't as brisk as usual, even in Orlais. And here in Ferelden, I suspect it's going to be even worse."

"You're probably right about that, although some things are in short supply, so perhaps business won't be as bad as you expect."

"I hope you're right. That would be nice."

"Is there any news from Orlais? Any interesting gossip?"

"Heh. There's always gossip. Whether or not it's interesting is for you to decide, I suppose." He ran a hand through his hair. "Let's see. They're talking about the darkspawn, of course. Apparently, the Grey Wardens were put out about not being allowed to cross the border, and now everyone out there is praying that the Frostbacks are more than the darkspawn are willing to face, and that if this truly is a Blight, only Ferelden gets the brunt of it."

Maker's breath. She supposed that was an unsurprising sentiment, but it stung to hear it spoken so plainly.

"There's also talk about the king's death," he continued. "People are saying that King Cailan was cheating on the queen. Maybe even planning to put her aside, and the queen found out about it. That's why Teyrn Loghain abandoned Cailan at Ostagar."

That was interesting. The first two parts were, of course, true. And if Loghain had found out . . .

Oh. That might explain why he had been so angry with Rhianna. If he'd thought she intended to replace his daughter as queen, he'd be furious.

But how in the world could he have found out about about any of that? It was one thing for people in Orlais to gossip about an unfaithful king, but how could Loghain have learned that Rhianna, specifically, had been considered as Anora's replacement? None of the people who knew - her family, Celene and Gauvain - would have said anything to Loghain. Except Cailan, of course. Perhaps that's how Loghain found out. It was easy enough to imagine. "Oh, how funny that Rhianna Cousland is here. You know, for a while I considered marrying her. But now that she's a Grey Warden, that certainly isn't going to happen." Cailan had been just stupid enough to let something like that slip.

Even so, it seemed far-fetched to think Loghain would have wanted Cailan dead because of it. Angry, yes? But not so angry that he would have left Cailan to die. And Loghain would never have abandoned the entire army. He had far too much respect for the soldiers in his command.

"Course, I don't know that you can take what the Orlesians say seriously," Felix mused. "They also say that King Cailan wasn't even really old King Maric's son. That Maric's real son is hidden in the bowels of Denerim's palace, and has been since he was born. Cailan's naught but a foundling they put on the throne, because Maric's real boy was a simpleton, or maybe a mage. I heard they feed him cakes all day long to keep him content. Maric's real son a mage. Can you imagine?"

Well, at least that was one rumor that could safely be ignored. There was no chance at all that Cailan hadn't been Maric's son. The two of them looked too much alike not to be related. She glanced at Alistair, but he was hunting through his pack a few feet away, and didn't appear to be paying any attention to the conversation. Had this rumor started because of him? Not that he was a simpleton, or locked away in Denerim Palace, but Maric had had another child. Someone must have known, other than Eamon.

The merchant shrugged. "Can't really think of much else. I spent most of my time in the countryside; not much news to be had from those folks." He let out a sigh. "I guess I'd better try and find that mule. And my helper. Considering neither of them have come back yet, and it's going to be dark soon. Best of luck to you, then. I hope you manage to find that golem."

‹›‹O›‹›

That evening, they camped off the road, in sight of Lake Calenhad. While the others set up camp, Rhianna and Dane went into the woods to hunt something for them to eat. Over the past few weeks, the companions had fallen into a pattern: Leliana, Daveth and Rhianna took turns hunting, while the others set up the rest of the camp. None of the others were good with a bow, and while Alistair and Sten were more than willing to hunt with their swords, they were limited to bringing down prey that would attack, rather than run away. Killing bears and wild boar, when they didn't have the means to use all the meat before it would rot, seemed a waste. So, every few days, Rhianna went out to hunt. She hated it; tears came to her eyes every time she took the life of some gentle creature, even though she knew that was stupid. She would have eaten it had someone else killed it, so what was the difference? Still, she hated it. Hated feeling the minds of the deer and rabbits and pheasants push at hers in a friendly way, knowing that she would take one of their lives.

She and the others needed to eat, though, so she did what needed to be done.

After they ate - a brace of rabbits that Morrigan had skinned and turned into a delicious stew - Rhianna left the others to sit on her bedroll and rummage around in her pack. She wanted a fresh shirt to wear to sleep; the one now wore smelled a bit rank.

Her hand brushed against something round and hard. Curious, she pulled it out. It was the amulet Isolde had given Rhianna right before she left Redcliffe. In the excitement of leaving the castle, Rhianna had forgotten all about it. She picked it up, and went to sit beside Alistair at the fireside.

"You've decided to join us after all?" The smile he gave her was warm and welcoming. "It's a bit too chilly this evening to stray too far from the fire, isn't it?"

"That it is." She tucked her legs underneath her, and Dane padded over and rested his head in her lap.

"At least it's not raining on us," Alistair mused. "All day long, I was sure it was going to start pouring down as soon as we made camp. I cannot say how happy I am to have been wrong about that." He tilted his head, and looked at her through narrowed eyes. "Why do I get the feeling you have something to tell me?"

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know. You just look sort of . . . business-like, I suppose." He grinned. "Should I be worried?"

"No. Not worried," Rhianna chuckled. "I do have something to tell you. Or, rather, something to give you. Something I believe belongs to you?" She held out her hand, and showed him the amulet. "This is your mother's amulet, isn't it?"

The smile slipped from Alistair's face. He reached out, and gingerly picked up the round of porcelain, its surface scarred with cracks.

"Yes." He turned the piece over in his hand, and then held it closer to his face. "This is definitely my mother's amulet." He caught Rhianna's gaze. "But I don't understand. Where did you get it? Did you find it in the castle?"

"No, I didn't find it. Isolde gave it to me before we left. She asked me to give it to you."

"Lady Isolde?" His lip curled. "What was she doing with it?"

"When you were sent to the Chantry years ago, she found it shattered in Eamon's office. She repaired it, and held onto it all this time, hoping to return it to you someday."

"She . . . what? Lady Isolde repaired it?" He shook his head. "That can't be right. It must have been Arl Eamon."

"No, she was very clear on that." Probably best not to mention that Eamon had intended to have it thrown in the rubbish pile.

"But why? She hates me. Why would she do a thing like that?"

"Perhaps," Rhianna put a gentle hand on his arm, "she doesn't hate you. Perhaps she never did." Rhianna shrugged. "I don't know. All I do know is that she asked me to give this to you. She wanted you to have it."

"That's . . . Wow." He rubbed his thumb along its marred surface. The amulet had been shattered; it must have taken Isolde hours to piece it back together. "Thank you." He looked into Rhianna's face. "Thank you for returning it to me."

"I don't deserve any thanks; I was merely the messenger."

"Even so, thank you."

Alistair slipped the amulet into his pocket and fell silent. Before Rhianna could think of a new topic of conversation, Sten strode up and stood before Alistair, his hands folded across his chest.

"The Blight. How will you end it?"

"W-what?" Alistair stuttered. "Um. Well. We . . . well, we have to fight the archdemon."

"Is that all? It is surrounded by an ocean of darkspawn." Sten continued to stare at Alistair. "How will you reach it? If you reach it, how will you slay it?"

"Well . . ." Alistair's brow wrinkled. "I'm not exactly sure. Yet. We'll figure it out by the time we get there, though. I hope."

"Hmnh," Sten scoffed. "You say you are a Grey Warden. I have heard stories of this order. You are said to be great strategists and peerless warriors." He paused. "But from what I have seen of you so far, I am not impressed." In a swift movement that startled everyone around the fire, Sten pulled his greatsword out of its sheath. "Draw your sword," he demanded.

The crease in Alistair's forehead deepened. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Your weapon. Draw it," Sten repeated.

"Why? Are we under attack?"

"I want to see what you can do."

Alistair glanced at Rhianna, and then back at Sten. "You want to fight me? Just like that?"

"Yes." The Qunari's expression was calm, but his eyes were intent on Alistair's face. "How are you going to face an archdemon if you cannot face me?"

"It's a mystery, I'll admit. I told you I don't really know how to kill it. Anyhow, why aren't you pestering Rhianna? She's a Grey Warden, too, and she's the one in charge."

"She is a woman. So it follows that she cannot be a Grey Warden."

"What?" This time it was Rhianna whose voice lifted with disbelief. "Of course I'm a Grey Warden."

Sten turned his gaze on her. "Then you can't be a woman. Women are priests, artisans, shopkeepers, or farmers. None of them have any place in fighting. Or in wielding magic." He glanced at Morrigan, who sat across the clearing in front of her own tent, paying no attention to the discussion.

"What are you talking about, Sten?" Leliana asked. "Do you mean your people have no female mages or warriors?"

"Of course not. Why would our women wish to be men? That makes no sense. Do they also wish to live on one of the moons? That's as attainable."

"What you've said is not a universal truth," Rhianna said. "Some women fight, some women use magic. I am a woman, Sten. I assure you of that. And a Grey Warden. Besides, you know I'm a warrior. You've seen me fight."

"Have I?" He arched a brow. "I have seen you play with a sword. There is a difference."

Rhianna swallowed, left speechless by Sten's insult. No one had ever questioned her skills before, no one other than Loghain, and he only did that to encourage her to be better.

"Maybe things are different where you're from," Daveth began, "but it's not like that here in Ferelden. Here, women fight, and women use magic. And they can be damned good at it, too. Like Rhianna is. You must be blind if you think all she does is 'play' with a sword."

Sten gave a slight shrug. "It is not I who is blind. I merely speak the truth. A person is born: Qunari or human or elven or dwarf. He doesn't choose that. The size of his hands, whether he is clever or foolish, the land he comes from, the color of his hair: these are beyond his control. We do not choose. We simply are."

"Perhaps some things are predetermined." Rhianna tried, and failed, to keep the edge from her voice. "But not everything is. A person can choose what she wants to do. And I have always chosen to fight."

Sten stared at her through slightly narrowed eyes. "I am not convinced." Then he turned back to Alistair. "Stand up. And draw your sword."

Alistair shook his head. "No. I don't want to fight you."

"You don't want to fight? And I should let your weakness damn us all?" Sten took a single step closer. "Draw your sword," he repeated. "I'll try not to injure you permanently."

Before Rhianna could intervene, Alistair replied, "No. I don't have to prove anything to you." He shifted position, so his back was to Sten. "I don't want to fight you, and I'm not going to fight you."

Everyone watched to see how Sten would respond.

"So. You do have a spine." The Qunari almost sounded pleased. He glanced at Rhianna. "Pity you don't use it."

Maker's breath, but this man was insufferable. First all that business about cutting the tongues out of mages, and now this? Perhaps they should have left him in the cage.

"I have an idea," Leliana said with slightly forced cheer. "Perhaps I should sing a song?"

"Yes," Daveth said. "Please do."

"Ah yes," Sten said. "Singing. I'm sure that will be effective against the darkspawn." But he didn't leave the fireside. Instead, he settled himself on the ground and kept his gaze on Leliana.

"Very well." Leliana glanced at Rhianna, and winked. "I shall sing about one of my favorite people. Aveline, the knight of Orlais."

Aveline? Rhianna had not heard this song before.

Leliana took a sip of water, and cleared her throat. Then, she began to sing in a sweet, warm voice that echoed through the darkness.

Aveline, Aveline, knight of Orlais
Worthiest soul on the field that day
No one could best her with bow or with blade
Aveline, Aveline the brave

Long, long ago a daughter was born to a farmer who wanted a son
He bid his wife abandon the girl in the woods on the far side of town
The elves, they did find her, and they took her in, and raised her as one of their own
They taught her to ride and they taught her to fight, until the day she was grown

Where was this going? Rhianna guessed Leliana had chosen this song for a reason. A song about a woman warrior? Very appropriate, all things considered.

Aveline, Aveline, knight of Orlais
Andraste smiled upon her that day
Dying alone would not be her fate
Aveline, Aveline the brave

When she came of age, her skills they were praised by all of her family and clan
There's no chevalier could best her, they said, anywhere in all of the land.
Armor they gave her, a horse and a blade, shining bright from her helm to her feet.
Go show the shemlen of what you are made, and in the Grand Tourney compete.

Aveline, Aveline, knight of Orlais
She left her home in the forest that day
Off to the city, her fortune to make
Aveline, Aveline the brave

Never before had she seen such a sight, as the field outside Montsimmard
Banners did flutter, and horses did prance; the crown prince was there with his guard
Since no woman by law could take up arms and fight, Aveline kept her helmet in place
She won at the joust and the passage of arms, the crowd's favorite she soon became

Aveline, Aveline, knight of Orlais
She snuck onto the field that day
If she were caught, a high price she'd pay
Aveline, Aveline the brave

As the sun began to sink in the west, it came time for the Grand Melee
Knight on their horses, with maces and swords, all hoping to win the day.
The horn blew to signal the start of fight, and the chaos of steel and sweat
But one by one, the combatants did fall, until only two were left.

Aveline, Aveline, knight of Orlais
One of the two left standing that day
Would her skill be enough this last foe to slay
Aveline, Aveline the brave

T'was a knight she had bested before in the joust, named Kaleva, and angry was he
Determined that he'd not be beaten again, he charged at her desperately
Kaleva, he grabbed her, threw her to the ground, and the helmet came loose from her head
Shocked at the sight of her womanly face, "What sorcery is this?" he said

Aveline, Aveline, knight of Orlais
She surprised all on the field that day
But now Kaleva, he felt betrayed
Aveline, Aveline the brave

Being beat by a woman, Kaleva felt shamed, and quickly exploded with rage
He forced her to her knees and angrily cried, "Woman, you'd best know your place."
The crowd started shouting for him to stand down, and for Aveline they all did cheer.
But Kaleva was angry, to angry to stop, and he slit her throat from ear to ear.

Maker's breath. If Leliana was trying to show that women should be warriors, was this really the best story for that?

Aveline, Aveline, knight of Orlais
Her blood was shed on the field that day
But the king's son would still have his say
Aveline, Aveline the brave

Prince Freyan had watched, and been shocked by the deed, for he had seen Aveline's worth
He swore this injustice to women would stop, and that none should should be banned by their birth
The laws were rewritten so women could fight, with our bows and our shields and our swords
And through us dear Aveline's spirit lives on, and her bravery burns bright in our hearts.

Aveline, Aveline, Knight of Orlais
The worthiest soul on the field that day
Though she was murdered, t'would not be in vain
Aveline, Aveline the brave

Aveline, Aveline, knight of Orlais
Worthiest soul on the field that day
No one could best her with bow or with blade
Aveline, Aveline the brave

When the last notes of the song faded into silence, everyone remained still for nearly a minute.

"That's . . . that's terrible." Alistair frowned. "But at the same time, it's a really good story. I'd never heard of Aveline before."

"I think she is more well known in Orlais than here in Ferelden," Leliana replied. "And yes, it was terrible. But to this day, any woman who is knighted in Orlais reveres Aveline the Brave, for she is the patron of all women chevaliers."

"Than you for the song, Leliana," Rhianna said gratefully. "I'm glad to know about Aveline."

"You're more than welcome. And of course, Aveline isn't the only female warrior we sing songs about here in Thedas. Andraste herself was a great warrior. Do you know this story, Sten?" Leliana asked.

The huge man frowned. "I am aware of the fairytale your Chantry tells regarding a woman who may or may not have ever lived."

"Fairy tale?" Leliana arched a brow. "Andraste is no fairy tale. I assure you, she was a flesh and blood woman. She spent the early part of her life in Tevinter, as a slave, and after she escaped, she led an army against the Imperium. The Maker granted Her powers with which to smite Her enemies. She raised an army, and the elves who were also enslaved were inspired to join her, under the leadership of a man called Shartan. Andraste would have brought the Imperium to its knees had she not been betrayed by her husband."

"And then she was burned at the stake," Sten said. "If this 'maker' of yours is so powerful, why did he not save this woman's life?"

A soft, thoughtful frown came to Leliana's face. "That question has come to me many times, and I do not have an answer. Why did He withdraw from Her at that moment? Where were all the powers he bestowed upon Her? Perhaps there was no way for Andraste to return to the Maker but through Her death, and he was ready for her to be with him for the rest of eternity. Or perhaps her death was needed, so that people would remember all that she accomplished. It is not for us to understand the ways of the Maker."

"If he couldn't save even the life of she who was supposedly his most beloved, then what good is he?" Sten scoffed. "Gods are no more than fairy tales to placate small children and those with foolish, childish minds."

"Well, that's rude," Alistair said. "You know most everyone in Ferelden is Andrastian, right? I'm starting to get the feeling that you don't really like it here in Ferelden. If that's the case, you know, you could always go home again."

Sten turned toward Alistair. "I cannot return home, no matter how much I might wish to."

"Why not?"

Sten hesitated. "For reasons of duty. Something I don't expect you to understand."

While Alistair stared at Sten, eyes wide, Daveth said, "You know, Sten, in just a few short minutes, you've managed to insult just about everyone here, one way or another. How about giving it a rest?"

The Qunari turned his head slowly, and regarded Daveth through narrowed eyes. Then, he shrugged, and looked away.

"Anyway," Leliana said, "the point I was trying to make is that here in Thedas, woman have been warriors as long as anyone can remember."

"Queen Rowan fought during the Rebellion," Alistair said. "I've heard stories about her. They say she was better with her sword than King Maric was."

"My mother fought in the Rebellion as well," Rhianna said. Something ached inside of her at the memory of fighting side by side in Highever Castle, the first time Rhianna had ever seen her mother with a sword in her hand. Her mother's arm had been strong as they battled their way through the castle together, in spite of the number of years it had been since she'd properly trained.

Rhianna glanced at Sten, and found him staring back at her. There were countless women who had fought bravely throughout history. How is it possible that Sten believed women could not fight? Perhaps he'd call her out to draw her sword. If that happened, she wouldn't hesitate. In fact, the idea of making him eat his words at swordpoint was rather appealing. He was formidable, but she could take him down, if she was careful about it and didn't let him hit her first.

He didn't challenge her, though. He merely looked away, to stare into the fire.

Rhianna was taking first watch, and in the rather uncomfortable silence that lingered, the others all said their good nights and went to their bedrolls, except for Leliana.

"I hope you don't mind me singing that song," she said once they were alone. "I just thought that perhaps hearing a story from our culture would help Sten to understand better."

"Of course I don't mind," Rhianna replied. "I loved hearing about Aveline. Well, it's horrible what happened to her, but as a story it was quite interesting. It's just . . . strange, to think of a world where women can't fight. I've wanted to fight as long as I can remember, and I started training with a sword when I was eight years old."

"Well, that explains a few things. You are one of the most skilled fighters I have ever seen."

"Tell that to Sten," Rhianna said with a wry smile. "He seems unimpressed."

"Yes, well I do not know much about Qunari culture, but apparently it is different from ours in a wide variety of ways. I hope you're not taking what he said to heart?"

"No, I'm not taking it to heart. I know who I am, and the opinion of some man with ridiculous ideas isn't going to change that." Rhianna paused. "So what explains your skill? You're good with your weapons, as well. I . . . don't mean to pry, exactly, but I do wonder where a Chantry sister learned to fight like you do."

"I was not always a Chantry sister, you know." Leliana hesitated, and gazed into the fire. "But I don't blame you for your curiosity." She turned back to face Rhianna. "Years ago, I was a traveling minstrel in Orlais. I performed tales and songs, and was rewarded with coins. Of course, a woman traveling around the countryside must know how to defend herself, yes? So I picked up a variety of skills along the way."

"You were a minstrel? You know, I thought about doing that, for a while. Well, something similar anyway."

"You? A teyrn's daughter? You wanted to sing and dance for a living?"

"No . . . not that. What I intended to do was gather a collection of wild animals - large ones, as dangerous as possible - and travel around Thedas with them, performing at festivals and such."

Leliana laughed. "Dangerous wild animals? Did you have a plan for training them to be performers? Or were you just hoping you could convince them not to eat you?"

"Oh, that would have been the easy part." When Leliana raised her eyebrows, Rhianna added, "I'm a ranger a . . . how do you say it in Orlesian . . . une traqueur. So training the animals would have been no problem, and they'd have kept me safe while we traveled around. Of course, it was never anything but a childish fancy. I knew I couldn't just walk away from my duties as a teyrn's daughter." Rhianna grinned, but the the smile slipped away to remember that she had managed to escape that particular set of duties after all.

Leliana nodded. "That explains why we haven't been troubled by wild animals. I have noticed that the wolves and bears seem to avoid us. Now I know why. Is there a reason you keep this a secret?"

"When I was young, I used to fear that it was some sort of magic, and I'd be carted off to the Circle if anyone found out. I didn't even tell my parents for years. But now? I suppose there's no real reason to be secretive about it. I'm just in the habit of not telling people." She paused. "So how did you become a minstrel?"

"I just fell into it quite naturally, to tell you the truth. My mother was from Denerim, and served an Orlesian noblewoman who lived here when Orlais still ruled, a lady named Cecilie. When Orlais was defeated and people began to resent the presence of any Orlesian, Cecilie returned to Orlais, taking my mother with her. I was born in Orlais, and did not set foot in Ferelden until much later. When my mother died, Lady Cecilie let me stay with her. I had no one else. She was quite old then, and she had me study music and dance to entertain her. So, when she died, and I needed to make my own way in the world, I used the skills I had learned living in her household."

"Why did you decide to come to Ferelden?"

"When I was small, Mother was always telling me stories of her homeland. I think she missed it. I don't have many memories of her - she died when I was very young - but I do remember that I loved her stories." Leliana's gaze softened, and she gave a quiet chuckle. "The other thing I remember was my mother's scent. She kept dried flowers in her closet, amongst her clothes. Small, white wildflowers with a red center and a sweet fragrance. They were very rare in Orlais."

"Do you mean Andraste's Grace?" Rhianna said. "I often saw them in the woods near Highever."

"Yes, that's it, indeed. Andraste's Grace. Of course, that doesn't answer your question, does it? I had always been interested in Ferelden, so when an opportunity to travel here appeared, I took it. Then, I . . . well, I didn't intend to stay here this long. But when I found myself in Lothering, I went to the Chantry to find shelter from bad weather. By the time the storm had passed, I just . . . did not want to leave. I like to say the Maker brought me here."

Somehow, it seemed this "storm" was metaphorical, rather than an actual rainstorm. Rhianna was reminded of her entire past year. Yes, she supposed that could be described as "bad weather." Except in Rhianna's case, the storm had not yet passed. If anything, she suspected that the deluge had yet to begin.

"Don't you miss it? Orlais, I mean? I know I would miss Ferelden terribly if I had to be away from it for so long."

"Oh yes! I especially miss Val Royeaux. Have you been there?"

"Yes. Last year, my father and brother and I, along with King Cailan, visited Val Royeaux."

"Well, then you will understand when I say that Val Royeaux is her own person - she has a character and a beauty unlike any other city in the world. What did you do when you were there?"

"We stayed in the palace, and were given tours all around the city. We saw the University, and the Chantry - I even climbed all the steps to see the view from the top. And I was able to see some of the countryside, as well."

"You stayed in the palace? As a guest of Empress Celene?"

"Yes."

Leliana arched a brow. "That is . . . very interesting. What did you think of her? If you don't mind my asking."

"Celene? She was charming. Warm and friendly, especially when we had the chance to speak with no one else around. But she had . . . plans that involved me. Something she wished to happen, and tried to make it happen. It didn't work out as she had hoped, though, so I wonder if now she might be a bit angry with me."

"Plans? What sort of plans?"

"There was an Orlesian nobleman, a cousin of hers, that she wanted me to marry." Gauvain's face flashed through her memory. She regretted more than ever leaving him, even though there was nothing else she could have done. But he had loved her, and she had loved him, and that much had been beautiful. Now, she could remember him fondly, without too much sorrow. The thought of him brought her just a little bit of peace. "To be honest, I was surprised by how much I enjoyed my time in Orlais. Not life at court. Their Grand Game is even worse than what goes on here in Denerim. But the countryside was beautiful, and . . . well, there were definitely things about Orlais I enjoyed."

"You know of the Grand Game?" Leliana laughed. "Then you really do understand. Yes, there are good things and bad things about Orlais, like anywhere else. Sometimes I miss it dearly, and sometimes I am glad I am rid of it. The Grand Game . . . that is one thing I do not miss. I suppose someday I would like to go back to Orlais," she continued. "You might laugh at this, but I miss some of the fine things I had in Orlais."

"Are you trying to say we lack finery in Ferelden?" Rhianna arched a brow in mock offense.

"Well, yes," Leliana laughed. "I suppose that is exactly what I'm saying. There are nice things in Ferelden, of course. But it's not the same. You've been there, so you know. Orlais is very fashionable. Almost ridiculously so. Dresses . . . fine dresses and furs. And shoes, of course. One can't mingle with nobility with bad shoes. You ought to know that. Ahhhh. The shoes made in Orlais were exquisite. Not at all like these clunky fur-lined leather boots you have here in Ferelden. Ugh . . . just look at them!" She stretched her legs out in front of her and pointed her toes as if to demonstrate. "I know they are more practical. More Fereldan. But sometimes, a girl just wants to have pretty feet. You know what I mean, don't you?"

"I suppose so."

"When I left Orlais," Leliana mused, "the fashion was shoes with delicate, tapered heels and embellishments in the front. A ribbon perhaps, or embroidery. in soft colors of course; it was spring. My shoemaker was working on a pair that were covered in pale blue silk, with amber beads on the toes. What I wouldn't give for a pair of shoes like that now."

Another memory, of the way she herself had looked in the mirror on the night of the Bal Masque. What she wouldn't give to go back in time to that night, to any of the nights that happened before Howe attacked Highever.

"Some of the clothes and shoes I wore in Orlais were gorgeous," Rhianna murmured. "And it is fun to dress up once in a while."

"To be honest, I'm a bit surprised that you aren't . . . well, more interested in such things. Fashion and shoes. Being a noblewoman, I mean."

"I didn't mind wearing pretty clothes when I was a girl, and sometimes my mother insisted, but I spent a great deal of time time out of doors, riding my horse or wandering through the woods or sailing. I've always felt more comfortable in trousers, to be honest. I suppose that's come in handy lately. It's hard to imagine when I'll next have the opportunity to wear a gown."

Again, she thought back to her time in Orlais, and the gorgeous clothes she had worn there. Gifts from the empress. Looking back, it seemed likely that all those clothes and shoes and hair combs were all "moves" in Celene's Grand Game. Trying to win Rhianna over.

The Grand Game. What was it Gauvain had told Rhianna? Something about minstrels in Orlais?

Now, come to find out that Leliana had been a minstrel . . .

"You know," Rhianna tried to keep her tone casual. "When I was in Orlais, I was told that sometimes minstrels aren't merely performers. That sometimes they're spies. Bards, I think they're called?"

"Is that so?" Leliana gave an amused smile. "Where did you hear this?"

"From a . . . friend. Someone I met when I was staying at the palace. He told me that nobles often hire minstrels - or, rather, bards - to help them play the Grand Game. Spying, sabotage. Even assassinations, sometimes."

Leliana studied Rhianna's face. "And you wonder if I am such a person? A spy?"

"Well . . . yes. I suppose I am wondering that."

She chuckled. "I assure you, I am no spy. I merely came to Ferelden on a whim, and ended up staying. There's nothing more to it than that." Leliana stretched her arms above her head, and arched her back. "And now, I should probably try and get some sleep. All this walking, day in and day out, gets tiring after a while."

After the two women said their goodnights, and Leliana retired to her tent, Rhianna settled herself as comfortably as possible for the rest of the night's watch. She couldn't, however, get her mind off of the conversation she'd just had with Leliana.

Leliana had been a minstrel. Gauvain had said that many traveling players in Orlais were also spies. Assassins, even. But that didn't mean Leliana had been such a person. She seemed so devout, and cheerful, and she'd denied being any sort of spy. Of course, that's exactly what she would say if she were a spy. And her fighting skills were quite well-developed for someone who had merely been a traveling player.

Had Leliana known who Rhianna was, back before Ostagar? When she'd approached Rhianna in the Lothering Chantry? It wasn't impossible to think Leliana might have been sent there by Empress Celene . . .

No. That was ridiculous. Leliana was a lay sister. It was her job to offer comfort to those who sought it from the Chantry, and it couldn't have been too difficult to tell that Rhianna was distressed. Besides, even if Leliana had been a spy - or still was - how could she have known Rhianna would be in Lothering? And what could she possibly want with Rhianna, now that she was a Grey Warden?

Dane huffed softly, and snuggled a bit more closely against Rhianna, a clear sign that he thought the idea quite absurd. He liked Leliana.

Of course, Dane also seemed to like Sten. Perhaps the hound wasn't as good a judge of character as Rhianna had always thought him to be.

Another huff from the hound, but this one sounded offended.

"Sorry, boy. But I do have to wonder about you sometimes."

Even so, she'd had enough of suspicious thoughts for one evening. So, she pushed them from her mind, and tried to relax and listen to the song of the crickets and frogs in the woods nearby.

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Many thanks to my beta reader, Psyche Sinclair, and to all my wonderful reviewers: Chrismasters, Milly-finalfantasy, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Skidney, Antosha Chekhonte, Theman1997, Saera, Ana, and a couple of Guests.

I apologize for the delay in this chapter. Last month, I had a severe reaction to some prescription medications, and ended up in the hospital. I'm fine now, but it took me a while to get back on my feet, and writing was basically impossible for several weeks, because I lacked the ability to focus mentally on things while I was recovering. It's still a little bit difficult for me to focus for long periods of time, so editing is happening much more slowly than usual, but I am feeling almost back to my old self. Hopefully, I'll be able to get back to my usual posting schedule very soon, but in any case, there shouldn't be this long of a delay again. Thank you for your patience! :)

"Aveline the Brave" is a song I wrote last year. If you'd like to hear a recording of it, just follow the link on my profile to my master list of songs. It is also available for download from my Dropbox (you'll also find that link on my master list of songs).

Ana: probably the easiest way to get in touch with me is to go to my profile here, and follow the link to my song master list on Tumblr. From there, you can go to the "Ask Me Stuff" link on that page, and send me a message. Tumblr will allow you to send me a message even if you don't have an account there. Just give me some way to contact you, and I'll reply via email! And thanks so much - I am really excited to see your artwork. :)