The Keening Blade

Chapter 37: Home is Where the Heart Is

Maude hardly paused for breath on their way down to the Great Hall for dinner. She went on happily about the adventures she had had, and the treasure she had won, and the friends she had made, and the interesting sights she had seen.

"But I'm gladdest of all to be home," she declared, squeezing his arm. "Kirkwall's a silly place, when all's said and done."

"I told you so," Loghain grunted.

"But I'm glad I went," she insisted. "Such a lot of gold. It's nice to see it all together in one place. Let's do that before we go to bed tonight. It's so gorgeous!"

He paused to stroke a wayward lock from her pretty, flushed face. "You've done well."

"—And I've got us another Warden!" she added. "That's very nice, too!"

"As it happens," Loghain drawled, "You're not the only one."

"Really?" she asked eagerly. "You've been recruiting?"

"Just a bit. I'll introduce you before dinner. Four, as it happens. We found three in Amaranthine, and Sigrun brought us a dwarf when we were in Denerim."

"Oh, well done!"

Nearly everyone who was not actually serving sat down to dinner in the Great Hall. The Warden's table was beginning to fill out a little more respectably, now that there were fifteen of them. They needed more—many more—but Loghain watched his Wardens gather with no little pride. They were, in so many ways, the best of the best.

Bethany came to dinner, tagging behind Morrigan, looking very subdued. Loghain found it faintly alarming that Morrigan looked subdued as well.

It was a very good dinner, of course, in their very fine Hall. Morrigan manipulated the seating so that Anders was on her right, Bethany on her left, and Sketch on the other side of Bethany. Loghain was impressed with their magical contingent. There was a great deal of talent there: talent which amounted to genius when one considered the depth of Anders' healing skills. Every patrol could be supported by a mage, something that had been beyond the realm of possibility when he commanded the army. He must not think of the past, of course, because remembering the obstructionism of the Chantry would make him pointlessly angry. If there had been the mage support at Ostagar that they had later at Denerim...

And if the interfering Revered Mother Clarine had not been there...

His Wardens were all gathered, and Loghain set Ostagar aside.

"Senior Warden Maude, here are Wardens Osbeck, Brangel, Fimo, and Sketch."

Maude was at her most charming, of course. Three of the men spoke their greetings very respectfully, knowing her mostly by reputation. Loghain wondered what in the world theyhad heard about her. Osbeck only stared and grunted. He had seen her fight. Loghain thought the grunt could be interpreted as admiration.

"And from Kirkwall, City of Chains," said Maude, "I bring you Warden Bethany!"

Bethany gave a shy but graceful little bow. "Well met, Wardens."

A friendly murmur answered her.

"That's a pretty girl," Brangel said, elbowing Osbeck.

"All Wardens in the War Room after dinner," Loghain told them.

Then the dinner was served, and there was no place for lesser interests.

It was something of a celebration, so Loghain allowed them to fill up all the extra corners Wardens seemed to have. He never allowed himself the weakness of eating during a briefing. That made one human, and therefore reduced one's authority. Better to have the extra pudding right now...

"What good cider!" Maude exclaimed. "And from the very first season here..."

"Wait til you taste the brandy," Oghren rumbled, smug and self-assured. "It might be my masterpiece. So far."

"You're a man of many talents, Oghren," Telamon saluted him with his goblet.

"Yup. And I—"

There was noise at the outer doors: a woman's voice shrilling in anger and indignation. The puzzled Wardens looked at each other. All but Oghren, who seemed inclined to slip under the table.

A guard strode quickly into the hall.

"Warden-Commander!" he said. "There's a dwarf woman outside who demands to see you immediately. Except that she might mean the Senior Warden," he added, a bit lamely. "And she's got a baby, so I didn't want to send her back through the tunnels at night..."

"We could both see her," Maude suggested archly to Loghain.

Loghain grunted, and then pointed down the table to the men on either side of Oghren. "You! Darrow and Osbeck. Don't let our brother Oghren wander away!"

Maude smirked over her shoulder. "Looks like you're doomed, Oghren!"

"Sodding nughumpers," Oghren muttered, reaching for his flask.

Loghain recognized the woman, though she was thin and dirty and exhausted. He never forgot a face. The hem of her skirt was thick with mud, and she was burdened, not just with a fretful baby, but with a ragged backpack and a tightly rolled blanket, which was nearly as filthy as the rest of her.

"Felsi!" cried Maude. "Welcome to Soldier's Peak. Come and sit down on the bench over here. What a darling baby!"

The woman was too tired to resist Maude, but she still had plenty to say.

"Where is he? I went all the way to Vigil's Keep, because Oghren said he was going there, but the guards at the gate said he was with the Wardens in Denerim. And so I went there, and the woman at the Wardens' place said he'd gone to Soldier's Peak, so I had to go north all over again..."

"I hope she let you stay there and rest," Maude said, a hint of thunder in her brows.

"She said I could spend the night, and I did, and she drew a little map for me. I got a ride on a trader's cart part of the way..."

Loghain turned to the anxious guard. "You did well to admit her. Have a servant bring a tray of food and some of that cider here."

"Well?" Felsi asked, too miserable to be much intimidated. "Is he here?"

"Yes, he's here," Maude assured her. "I know he'll be very happy to see you and the baby. Didn't he send you money? I've had him write you every month."

"I figured it was you. The innkeeper at the Spoiled Princess decided he didn't like having a baby about the place. He wanted me to foster her out, so I left to find Oghren. A good thing I had a bit of money, or Maddie and I would be as good as dead!"

"Maddie? Is that her name?"

"It's really Maude. Oghren said I was to name her after you."

"Really? After me? That's...extraordinary! Loghain, this baby is named after me!"

He had rarely seen her so delighted. "Then I suppose that makes you the child's godmother— after a fashion— though I don't know if the dwarves have that custom."

Felsi's eyes were red with unshed tears. "Are you going to let me stay?"

Before Loghain could answer, Maude said, "Nobody is sending my little namesake away. It's going to be all right, and you should always believe me when I say things are going to be all right. Look, here's some dinner for you. I'll hold the baby while you eat...or no...er...do you have a bit of clean baby linen?"

An all-too-familiar smell issued from the direction of the squalling infant, and Loghain decided to leave Maude to it. "Sort it out. I'll send Oghren to you." He stalked back into the Hall, barely giving the guards time to open the door for him. The blazing fires and smell of rich food were a striking contrast to the chilly entry hall. It was Harvestmere and growing cold at night, and the wretched woman and her child had journeyed alone, all the way from Lake Calenhad...

"Oghren!" he barked. "Your wife's here! Go out there and talk to her. Do whatever Maude tells you!" He threw himself into his carved and imposing chair and set about finishing his pudding. The Wardens jeered and cheered as Oghren slunk away to face his family. Keenan, Loghain noticed, did not think it at all funny. He scowled and muttered something to Sigrun, who laid a sympathetic hand on his arm.

After a time, a sheepish Oghren reappeared, with a tired dwarf woman holding a little bundle in her arms. The dogs trotted up, curious and sniffing. Maude loomed over the dwarves, beaming affectionately at the baby and rather menacingly at Oghren. She gave him a nudge.

"Uh...er.." he cleared his throat. "This is my wife Felsi, and she's going to be staying here, so don't any of you blighters give her a hard time."

Felsi gave them all a nervous wave.

"We'll leave that to you, Oghren!" Anders smirked.

"Ha. Ha." Oghren flinched as Maude nudged him again. "And the nuglet is my kid Little Maude, or Maddie if you listen to Felsi. Don't anybody step on her."

The entire Hall rippled with talk. "A baby!" Bethany said, smiling and excited. "How adorable."

Morrigan rolled her eyes. Anders was already getting up to look mother and baby over in a brief gleam of blue magic. He spoke quietly to Maude, his face serious. She gave him a nod and put up her hand for silence.

"Felsi's had a hard journey and she's very tired, so the servants are going to take her up to Oghren's room for a bath and some needed rest. You can worry her with your names and faces tomorrow."

The poor woman was almost staggering with weariness, but with a servant on either side, she disappeared up the splendid marble stairs. That bit of drama over, Loghain rapped for attention.

"Enough! Briefing. War Room. Now."

"I told Morrigan quite a bit of it..."

"We all need to hear the story of your escape from Lothering," Maude urged Bethany. "And I won't be bored hearing it again. Any new detail you remember might be useful. All the Wardens should hear this, since one of our number might be in danger someday—though I hope not. If you come face to face with the being Bethany is going to describe—and I hope you do not—be respectful, say as little as possible, and remember that she is not your friend."

The Wardens were gathered at the big table in the War Room. Loghain was proud of this place. It occupied most of the former chapel, and was roomy enough for a gathering like this. The walls were handsomely paneled in fruitwood and hung with framed maps; the floor was smoothly paved with slate. The chairs were comfortable, so that people could sit in them long enough to make sensible decisions, rather than hurrying off with the quickest half-baked scheme they could come up with. It was well-lit, too, with a fine wrought-iron chandelier hanging above the table and torchieres standing in each corner. There was a purpose-built cabinet filled with yet more maps. The door was thick oak, and padded with leather on the inside, to make eavesdropping impossible.

"All right," Bethany said quietly. "I'll tell you all I saw and heard. Perhaps some of the things will mean more to you. I've thought it all over from time to time and I know I missed things. Flemeth was amusing herself with us: that much was clear. She didn't feel it was necessary to let us in on the joke."

"Flemeth?" Osbeck muttered to Kain. "The Flemeth? The Old One? The Great Witch of the Wilds?"

Anders jerked his head toward the stony-silent Morrigan. "Her mum."

There was a murmur of awe from those not already in the know.

Morrigan huffed a harsh laugh, staring at the table.

Maude gave a quick look at her friend, sizing up the extent of Morrigan's depression. "Start," she said to Bethany, "with after Ostagar. Your brothers were there, and were slow to return."

"Adam said they were on the south end of the battlefield and getting past the darkspawn was horribly difficult. They were in Commander Varel's irregulars."

"Varel..." Loghain remembered. "A cousin of the seneschal at Vigil's Keep, I think. Good man. Go on."

Bethany frowned. "I think they were trying to help some of the wounded get away. They ran into a mage who healed them as best she could. Then they heard that the darkspawn were advancing on Lothering, and they dropped everything else, and ran home. Mother and I didn't want to leave without them. We waited and waited, while the village grew empty. We packed a cart and were ready to go at a moment's notice. In the last panic, some men stole our mule, and by the time Adam and Carver reached us, the darkspawn were at their heels. In the end, we had hardly more than the clothes on our backs."

"Oh, I see," Maude broke in. "I had the timeline mixed up. Morrigan, Alistair, and I were already long gone from Lothering by the time you left. Things were already bad when we passed through. You must have been nearly the last ones out."

Bethany nodded, and tried to clear her throat. Anders poured her a cup of wine. She sipped from it slowly.

"We tried the Imperial Highway, but we were cut off. The darkspawn were there, and we turned east on the old trails. We could hardly tell where we were going. Everything was burned or burning, and nothing looked familiar. Everywhere there were bloated corpses and darkspawn filth. We were attacked—"

She took another drink. "We were attacked by little patrols of darkspawn scouts, again and again. It was a nightmare. We tried to keep Mother in the middle to protect her. There was a big fight we came upon, and that's where we met our friend Aveline...and her husband Ser Wesley. He was badly wounded. Still, we thought we'd have a bit more safety in numbers, even though he was a Templar and tried to threaten me, weak as he was..."

"Wait!" Sigrun broke in. "I don't understand about surface religion. I thought Chantry people weren't allowed to marry."

"Sometimes," Keenan explained, "a man or woman feels they are called to serve the Chantry. If they become a priest or lay brother or sister, their marriage is annulled. If they join the Templars, they can still be married, as long as they swear an oath to remain chaste."

"What's 'chaste?'" asked young Fimo.

Oghren leered. "It means—"

Valentine broke in tactfully, "No sex."

Fimo was astounded. "What's the point in that?"

Anders shrugged. "They get to hunt mages instead."

The little elf Sketch muttered, "That's all they care about, anyway."

Loghain thought that was enough of that. "Bethany?"

"So we went on, and then...then the ogre found us. That's where Carver was killed. I thought we were dead. I was so scared. Carver was lying there on the stones, broken and bloody, and I knew we'd be just like that very soon. I didn't know whether to hope they would kill Mother first or not."

"But you didn't give up," Maude encouraged her.

"No!" Bethany nodded, lost in thought. "I was going to fight until I was dead. You can't surrender to darkspawn. I could see that. But just as I was building up for a fireball, the darkspawn started shrieking and gobbling and staring up at the rocks above us. A dragon was there."

She shook her head. "I can't tell you how terrified I was. I thought it must be the Archdemon. For a long time after, I still wondered if it really had been. It was huge. It swooped down, flaming. I thought that maybe being incinerated was better than being hacked apart by darkspawn, but I still threw myself flat on the ground. Instinct, I suppose. The dragon swept past us, and the darkspawn burst into flame, screaming more horribly than you can imagine. The dragon alighted, grabbing them up in its talons and smashing them down. It was still grasping one when it started...changing."

Everyone at the table was dead silent, listening in utter fascination.

"It turned into a woman. That sounds silly, I know, but she didn't look like any woman you've ever seen. She was magnificent. She wasn't old or young or any particular age. She was just herself. Her white hair was swept back and some of it looked almost like horns. She was dressed in armor-studded leather armor that fit her perfectly. She had high boots and long gauntlets of dragonbone. She looked over at us, and swaggered over to us slowly, still dragging the body of the last darkspawn she had crushed. She let it go, like a cat bored with its prey, and then she spoke to us. I've never forgotten it. She thought we were entertaining. She said, "We usually have so few visitors to the Wilds, but now they come in hordes!"

"She laughs at her own jokes," Maude nodded. "I hate that in people. Go on."

"Well," said Bethany, "she was going to leave us there, but maybe she liked my brother Adam. A lot of people do." She looked down the table at the other Wardens. "He's very, very good-looking, and even with everything against us, he could still joke about it. He said, 'Very impressive! Where did you learn to turn into a dragon?'"

"I'd like to know that myself," Morrigan muttered darkly.

Bethany glanced at her uneasily and continued her story. "And the woman said, 'Perhaps I am a dragon...'"

There was a quick stir at that, and every Warden looked very impressed.

"It could explain a lot," Maude murmured to Loghain. He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes on their new recruit. Morrigan blew out a very long breath.

Bethany said, "I thought that she meant she was the Archdemon, and that she was going to kill us. Adam didn't let himself look scared at all, though. The woman said then that we were lucky that the smell of burning darkspawn did nothing for the appetite. She had seen the ogre killed and wanted a closer look at us. Now that her curiosity was satisfied, she was leaving."

"She was just going to leave you there?" Valentine asked, horrified.

Bethany nodded. "She did tell us we were running in the wrong direction, which was good, I suppose. Adam told her he'd love to learn that trick of hers-turning into a dragon, I mean. That amused her, and she said it would take more than a clever tongue. We told her we wanted to go to Kirkwall, and Adam..." she glanced over at Loghain. "Adam said some things that made her laugh. She said she liked him. She thought about it and told us that fortune smiled on us that day. She would get us to Gwaren if we took an amulet of hers with us to Kirkwall and gave it to the Keeper of the Dalish clan nearby. She told us the elf's name was Marethari. If Adam would swear to do that, she would save us, and call it a fair trade."

"How did you know she was Flemeth?" asked Anders.

"Aveline guessed it," Bethany replied. "And Flemeth agreed. She said she was called 'Witch of the Wilds,' 'Flemeth,' 'Ashabellenar,' and even 'The Old Hag Who Talks Too Much.' We could only agree to do as she said. She kept her word and got us past the darkspawn and most of the way to Gwaren. And then she changed back to a dragon, and flew away home."

"And that was it?" Loghain asked harshly.

"No," Bethany admitted. "Before we went with her to Gwaren, there was Aveline's husband, who was infected by the darkspawn. We wanted her to help him, but Flemeth said that only Grey Wardens could help him, and the last of them were beyond our reach. So Aveline...helped him die, and we left for Gwaren. There we took ship and spent fourteen days in a ship's stinking hold, packed in with other refugees like animals. The sailors treated us like animals, too. It was horrible. But we got to Kirkwall, and that's another story, for there were already too many refugees and the city guard almost didn't let us in. We had to indenture ourselves, and it was nearly a year before we were free, and could go back and forth in and out of the city. Once we could do that, it was time to pay our debt to Flemeth."

Morrigan slapped the table in irritation. "You could have sold the amulet! You could have thrown it away! You could have left it at the bottom of a chest!"

"Yes," Bethany said, not at all cowed. "but we didn't. We gave our word. Besides, Adam and I agreed that in the end it was not a good idea to lie to a powerful mage—or whatever she was. She kept her part of the bargain, and we kept ours."

"What then?" Loghain asked.

"Tell him about what happened on Sundermount!" Maude said eagerly. "When you brought the amulet to the Dalish..."

Bethany nodded. "We found Marethari and her clan, and she sent us up the mountain where we met Merrill, who had been her First, but who was now wanting to leave the clan and go live in the Alienage in Kirkwall."

"Live in an Alienage? On purpose?" Telamon asked, flummoxed. "Why?"

"We didn't know at first," Bethany told him. "We eventually found out though. Merrill started using Blood Magic, and the clan wouldn't let her stay with them any more."

"Merrill was a blood mage?" Maude asked in wonder. "I never would have guessed. You've never seen a milder, sweeter, more ethereal little creature than Merrill!" she told Loghain.

"She was a blood mage, all right," Bethany assured her. "I saw her do it, there on Sundermount, to bring down a warded barrier. She said she could handle it, and that we weren't to worry."

"All blood mages say that," Anders snarked. "just before they turn into abominations and get all manky about the head and waist."

"Go on," Maude urged. "Tell them the rest of the Flemeth story."

Bethany nodded. "We fought a lot of undead shades going up Sundermount. It was the site of a huge battle between the ancient elves and the Tevinter magisters. The air smells of magic. We made our way through a cave and stepped out to a ledge where there was an old stone altar. Adam laid the amulet on the altar, and Merrill spoke in Dalish, and...Flemeth appeared."

"Dragon... or woman?" rumbled Osbeck.

"A little of both at first," Bethany said. "But then her form settled into the powerful-looking woman we had seen before. She was very pleased with us."

Morrigan grimaced. "Undoubtedly!"

"Adam wasn't afraid of her, and he asked how she had managed to hide in the amulet. She said she could be in more than one place at the same time, which I'm not sure I believe, but as to the amulet, she said she had put a little piece of herself in there, 'in case the inevitable happened. And if I know my Morrigan, it already has.'"

"Whoa!" Maude exclaimed. Everyone stared at Morrigan, who glared back furiously.

"What did she say about me?" Morrigan demanded.

A little daunted, Bethany said, "Adam wanted to know who 'Morrigan' was, and Flemeth said, 'She is a girl who thinks she knows what is what better than I, or anyone. And why not? I raised her to be as she is, I cannot expect her to be less.'"

"This is your mother?" Sketch asked thickly.

Morrigan sneered at him. "In a manner of speaking only. Bethany, continue."

"She said she had not wanted to be followed, and so she was glad to be smuggled there secretly. She said she had an appointment to keep..."

"I don't like the sound of that," Loghain muttered.

"Tell them what she said to Adam," Maude urged. "That was interesting."

"Well, Adam asked her what she planned to do, and I hoped that whatever it was, it was very, very far away. Luckily, she didn't see my face, because she was looking at Adam, which most people do. She said—and I'll never forget it— 'Destiny awaits us both, dear boy. We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment... and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap.'"

A silence. Loghain said, "And then?"

"And then she turned into a dragon, and flew away. We haven't seen her since, thank the Maker!"

"I wish," said Morrigan, "that I could believe that none of us will see her ever again!"

"Do you suppose," Maude said thoughtfully, "that Flemeth isn't just making it up? That High Dragon we ran into in the Frostbacks clearly understood human speech. The Old Gods were powerful, intelligent beings. Maybe Flemeth is an Old God—or just a very clever High Dragon—who somehow learned to shape-shift into human form. Long ago, she might have heard that poor bard Osen at his singing, and found him charming. She turned herself into a beautiful woman. When Osen was murdered, she unleashed her power on the killers; and that was the end of the Elfstans of Highever, and the beginning of the Witch of the Wilds."

"I admit 'tis possible," Morrigan admitted reluctantly, "that a human form offers her more opportunities for amusement than she would have as a dragon..."

"What do you suppose she meant by 'the precipice of change?'" Anders mused.

Loghain snarled, "Flemeth is an interfering old hag who pretends to be cleverer than anyone else. She utters ridiculous predictions to make herself important. She's a liar."

"Yes," Morrigan laughed bitterly. "'Tis clear that you have met her!"

"Loghain's right about the lying," Maude pointed out. "Remember how she went on with me about being a 'weak old woman' who couldn't help fight the Blight? That was hogwash. There were heaps of things she could have done. She just couldn't be bothered. And her predictions are so obscure to be meaningless. As I say, be polite to her if you meet her, but don't expect any help. She is not our friend, and she nearly tricked Morrigan into something disastrous."

Keenan had been listening with wonder and interest, and spoke up. "What I don't understand is why you went to Kirkwall at all, Bethany! Why not stay in Gwaren, or go north to Denerim or Amaranthine?"

"Mother was from Kirkwall. She has a brother there, and I suppose she always thought of it as home. The Amells were a prominent family, and she thought...mistakenly...that my uncle still lived at the estate."

"Wait!" Anders interrupted. "Amell? I knew an Amell at the Circle..."

"Very likely," Bethany agreed. "I have an older cousin who was sent to the Fereldan Circle. Magic crops up in the Amells from time to time. That time it ruined them. My grandfather would have been made Viscount, but with the disgrace—"

"Don't!" Anders burst out. "I hate hearing magic being called a disgrace. It's just magic! There's nothing disgraceful about it! So Ambrose Amell is your cousin. I know him: good man, good mage. Haven't seen him in years, since I was locked up during the Blight and escaped when the mages rebelled. He was quite the prodigy, though."

"Why did they send your cousin to the Fereldan circle?" asked Sketch. "they've got their own bloody awful big Circle right there in Kirkwall!"

"Politics, I think," Bethany said. "They didn't want my cousin getting preferential treatment because of his family. What a joke that was! That was just the beginning of my family's fall. My Uncle Gamlen lost everything and was living in a shack in Lowtown. At least it was a roof," she admitted. "Until he vouched for us, we were stuck in the Gallows; and Lowtown is better than Darktown, where the really poor live…"

"Old mining tunnels under the city," Maude explained to everyone. "Pretty grim. Sort of like Dust Town."

"Ugh," groaned Sigrun. "You're kidding, right?"

"No," Maude assured her. "I'm really not."

"I can't believe that poor Evelina was stuck there with all those children," Valentine said, shaking his head.

"Well, she's not anymore," Maude said with satisfaction.

Darrow and Kain were looking nervous. Something was up. Loghain asked, "And who is Evelina?"

"Oh!" Maude's smile brightened. "I haven't told you about Evelina. She's a very nice young woman who rescued a pack of Fereldan orphans and was trying to provide for them down in Darktown. I brought her back home with me."

Everyone began looking about them for invisible orphans.

"I left them in Breaker's Cove!" Maude laughed. "I chose one of the abandoned cottages for them. It doesn't cost much to keep them, and why shouldn't they come home to their own country? Evelina's a very decent girl, too. She made a foolish but understandable mistake in taking the children to Kirkwall. I saw no reason for them to suffer forever for it. Anyway, they'll be fine. I gave her a bit of coin to feed and clothe the children. They cost hardly anything."

"How many children?" Loghain asked, with long-suffering patience.

"Only eight."

"No, nine," Bethany corrected her. "Don't you remember? She picked up that other little girl whose parents died."

"Yes, that's right. Glynis. Nice little thing. Well, nine. Nine Fereldan children who didn't belong in gruesome Kirkwall. She's teaching the children their letters, and the girls to spin and weave. The boys will find things to do eventually as well. It's going to be all right, Loghain!"

Bethany leaned toward Morrigan and whispered, "As long as nobody finds out that Evelina is an apostate!"

After everyone else was dismissed, Maude showed Anders and Morrigan the black powder.

The mages sniffed at it cautiously, and rubbed some between their fingertips.

"'Tis charcoal," Morrigan shrugged. "Mostly..."

"I figured that out, too," Maude agreed, "but what about that rotten-eggy smell?"

"Drakestone," Anders said instantly. "That's drakestone. It's used in ointments to counter venereal itch."

Loghain grimaced, wondering where the Qunari had got the idea for their gaatlok.

Not at all daunted, Anders sniffed it again. "Drakestone's not hard to find. It's all over the Deep Roads. I never pick up any because it's cheap and plentiful. Sometimes the big yellow crystal formations are pretty, but they're too soft for jewelry. Right. Drakestone. And something else. I'll think about it. It'll come to me. I'm more curious about how they made it form these heavy black grains. It's not exactly a powder."

"Maybe the grains formed because of storage."

"Maybe. I'll work on it. You know you should get Dworkin in on this, too."

"Dworkin isn't a Warden. We can't trust him the way we trust you."

"Then you need to recruit a first-rate dwarven engineer. Maybe not Dworkin himself, though. He really is bonkers."

Loghain thought it over. All the Glavonaks were engineers. Perhaps there was someone else in the family—someone younger— who could join the Grey Wardens. Anders was right. They could use a really good engineer within their ranks.

Before Maude could throw herself into any of her projects the next morning, Loghain pinned her down to the bed with an arm and a leg and said, "Your brother wants to know when you're coming. Cauthrien's due any day now."

Maude tried to wriggle away, but he held her ruthlessly. She scowled at him and then thumped him with her long and heavy braid. When he remained immovable, she blew out a breath. "I suppose I should suck it up and go tomorrow."

She did not sound very excited at the prospect. Unsurprising, considering all the gadding about she'd been engaged in. Then, too, her last memories of Highever were dark ones...

"Then I'll send a messenger to them today, to give them notice."

"Fine," Maude said, her face tightening. "We're going to Highever. It had to happen some time. At least I'll have had one day at home."

Quite a bit of work had been finished on the Coast Road to Highever. Loghain had financed the improvements from Soldier's Peak to well over the Highever border; far enough that the new highway now connected with the ancient road that was heavily used in the teyrnir. The rest of the way, along the coast to the old Warden stronghold, had fallen out of use for the past two hundred years, in favor of the North Road.

It was a fine day for a journey. Clouds scudded overhead in a sky of blazing azure. To their right, the surf pounded the Coastlands. The breeze from the north was cool, but not biting, and smelled of the sea. Just behind them, a light two-wheeled cart, pulled by a strong horse, kept pace. They would need more luggage for a stay at Highever than they could carry in their saddlebags. Topaz ran at Loghain's stirrup, and Ranger at Maude's; but two puppies rode in the cart, small heads thrust forward boldly into the wind, enjoying the new smells.

"This is nice," Maude approved, as their horses ate up the miles at an easy canter. "I like the view. And no bandits. I guess they haven't really discovered this road yet."

"Give them time. They'll find it," Anders predicted. Maude insisted on his attendance. Everything possible must be done to give Highever a healthy, living heir, and her brother a child to dote upon.

Morrigan decided that she wished to go as well. It would be an opportunity to dress in her best, and Loghain remembered that she rather liked Fergus Cousland. Morrigan had also confessed to a certain curiosity about the place that had produced Maude. Keenan was left in command of the Wardens for a few days, and seemed very pleased and encouraged by the trust placed in him.

He was a good man, and a very good archer. Loghain frowned, thinking about archers. The Wardens needed archers. Lots of archers. If they had a good body of archers, down in the Deep Roads, then a lot of darkspawn would not survive long enough to reach the Warden ranks. A first-rate engineer, yes: but a lot of archers. How to encourage archers to join the Wardens? He played with a number of ideas as they traveled.

The horses needed to be rested in frequent intervals, and thus it was growing dark by the time their long day's journey was over. Castle Highever, squat and ancient, loomed over the city of Highever below. They skirted the town, since that would only delay them. As they approached the fortress, silhouetted against the twilight, Maude had less and less to say. By the time they reached the gates, she was quite silent.

"Are you all right?" Loghain whispered to her, as they were led through the outer courtyard.

"Not in the least," she answered, her voice crackling with false cheer. "But the worst is yet to come."

The double doors opened on the Great Hall of Castle Highever: an antiquated interior of rough stone and rough beams. Loghain wondered if he was getting soft. Compared to what they were making of Soldier's Peak, the ancestral home of the Couslands was primitive and unlovely. Morrigan looked about with thinly veiled scorn.

She whispered to Loghain, "Soldier's Peak is far superior!"

But it was full of friends to welcome them. Cauthrien smiled wanly at them, enthroned with a great many cushions in a futile attempt to make her something other than desperately uncomfortable. There was Fergus, more bear-like than ever, arms out to hug Maude.

"Welcome home, little sister! Not a moment too soon!" he laughed, reaching out with his right hand for Loghain's. "Poor Cauthrien's about to pop! Ow!'

Maude had poked him hard in the ribs. "Don't be rude, you horrible great lout, especially about the woman who's about to bring your heir into the world!" She took a seat by Cauthrien and put her hand over her sister-in-law's. "How are you, Cauthrien?"

"I'm fine," the Teyrna of Highever insisted. "It will soon be over."

That was the soldier in Cauthrien, still soldiering on. Loghain gave her a half-smile, which she returned with a glint of her old spirit.

"And more friends!" Fergus exclaimed. "Glad to see you, Warden Morrigan." He bowed respectfully. "You are very welcome to Castle Highever. And Warden Anders! You wouldn't consider—"

"—Be happy to," Anders said casually, pulling out his discreet little wand and waving it casually in Cauthrien's direction. "Everything seems to be going well—really well. Umm, have you not noticed that you're actually in labor?"

"I've had some twinges since the afternoon," Cauthrien admitted, "but I wasn't sure it was labor or not. Everyone speaks of labor 'pains,' and I would hardly consider such minor discomfort as such. I was stabbed through the hand once. That was pain."

"Not having experienced labor myself, I can't judge," Anders replied, rather wide-eyed. "You might feel more 'discomfort' later."

Cauthrien seemed in no hurry to take to her bed, and so they were given seats and chatted where they were. Loghain gave a quick glance in Maude's direction. She appeared perfectly at her ease, but he knew her well enough to see that it was an effort. Her eyes wandered the hall, pausing here and there, and she frowned, as if looking for things that no longer existed.

The dogs seemed happy, enough, sniffing about industriously. The puppies followed their mother, and were exclaimed over at length.

"There's another puppy at home," Maude told Fergus, glad to be distracted by something she found pleasant, "but he's already imprinted, and we couldn't take him away. This is Onyx," she said, pointing to the midnight-black mabari, "and this little girl is Ears," she said, indicating a puppy of a silky chestnut brown—all but the tips of the ears, which were white. Maude smiled at her brother. "If one or both of them were to find a friend here at Highever, we'd be very pleased."

"So would I!" Fergus enthused, putting out his hand for the little visitors. "Fine beasts, the both of them!"

Morrigan looked expressively at Anders, who only smiled. Cauthrien winced briefly, and said, "Fergus, I'm sure our guests would like to be shown to their rooms before supper. No, really, I'm quite all right. I'll tell you when I'm not…"

So they went to their guest chambers, though Maude's polite smile was fixed and manic. As they walked through the halls, her eyes twitched here and there; warily, as if expecting an attack. Loghain looked at her in concern and pulled on her hand.

"Sorry," muttered Maude, her eyes glassy. "I keep seeing dead people. Over there is Ser Manion, and through the library is my tutor Aldous."

"When you say 'you see dead people,'" Anders said delicately, "are you saying that you're remembering them, or are you actually seeing them? Because if that's the case…"

"Shh!" Morrigan hushed him firmly, seeing the servants' ears cocked in their direction.

They went up a ramp, and then some stairs, and the corridor opened into a little bower, a very inviting place to sit, even at the end of Harvestmere. Maude's eyes softened, and she turned her head as they passed, as if watching some beloved sight.

Through an iron-bound door, and there was a door on either side, and one straight ahead. The servant in the lead stopped here, and showed Morrigan to the room on the right, and Anders to the room on the left. Maude pressed her lips together.

Through the last iron bound door, and they entered a square stone chamber. Doors to left, right and front led to the family's personal bedchambers.

The servant led them to the door on the left, and said to Maude, "The Teyrn thought you would like to have your old room, Your Grace," He bowed to Loghain, "Warden-Commander. Supper will be served directly."

"How delightful," Maude answered, feigning satisfaction quite creditably.

Their luggage was deposited and organized, and the servants dismissed. Maude moved through the stone chamber, touching everything. Topaz had no compunctions about sprawling out on a thick blanket arranged on the floor, the puppies milling about her. Ranger followed Maude, however, sniffing about with a puzzled air.

"That's right, old boy," Maude said, "This used to be our home. We used to live here all the time until the bad thing happened."

She prowled back and forth, examining everything with great suspicion. Loghain left her to it, while he washed his face and hands and changed into clean and expensive clothes.

"The hangings and coverlet are different," she muttered. "And all my things are gone." She flicked imaginary dust from an empty bookshelf. "I hate being here."

"Expressing that to your brother might not be the most tactful move. He obviously thinks that this is still your home."

"This can never be home to me ever again! He wasn't here!" Maude hissed. "He didn't see it! Morrigan's in the room where Lady Landra was killed. They've put Anders is in Dairren's room, and I have no idea what they did to him, but nobody's seen or heard from him since that night." She fell on her knees, groping at the stones lower in the wall.

"Ha!" With a faint grinding, a stone came away in her hand. She reached inside the cavity, and drew out a dusty little book.

"What's that?" Loghain asked, buttoning the last button.

"It's mine," Maude said. "It's my diary. I hid it so the servants wouldn't find it. Or Oren. He had picky little fingers. Or Mother, for that matter. She thought she needed to keep an eye on me."

Loghain grunted his agreement. Maude definitely needed watching. "You should get changed. I promise not to read your diary."

Maude shrugged, thumbing through the crackling pages. "Old news now. I'm all alone. Nobody understands me. The usual angst. Did Anora keep a diary?"

"Yes."

"Did you read it?"

A pause.

"Ha!" Maude said. "No surprise there. I'll bet nobody understood her either."

"Get changed," he grunted. "The green, maybe. After you wash your dirty face."

They joined their host and hostess for a quiet but substantial supper. A number of vassals were in the city, awaiting the invitation to witness the the Teyrna's laying-in, but Fergus wanted things as stress-free as possible for Cauthrien beforehand. And he wanted to talk to the Wardens privately.

Aside from the nuances of Cauthrien's condition, he wanted to hear about Maude's journeys to Gwaren and Kirkwall, and what came of them. Cauthrien was looking a little edgier now, and the occasional wince was more frequent. Still, she insisted she wanted to hear their news.

"I got on fine in Gwaren," Maude said. "Aside from everyone wanting Loghain to come back to them, I felt I had solid support there. Or at least the Little Teyrn will have it, which comes to the same thing."

"The Little Teyrn?" Fergus asked, smirking. "That's a way of putting it! Any sign—"

"Actually, Fergus—" Maude dropped her voice, and looked about to see if any servants were hovering too closely. "The Little Teyrn is expected sometime in Drakonis. Shh! You don't have to—"

"That's wonderful news!" Fergus burst out. "Why are you keeping it a secret? You should tell everyone. It's best to have these things clear and settled."

"We wanted Maude to build support in Gwaren before announcing it to the King and Queen," Loghain explained grimly.

"I think you should announce it here, publicly," Cauthrien said. "It's a very appropriate time. We'll have a celebratory feast...probably tomorrow night...I hope."

"Cauthrien's right," Fergus agreed instantly. "Keeping it secret any longer would look dodgy. If you suddenly produced a baby with no warning, there'd be talk. Announce it tomorrow night!"

"Are you sure it's a Teyrn, and not a Teyrna?" Cauthrien wondered.

"I have it from Anders himself," Maude assured her.

"You can tell?" Fergus asked, surprised.

"Sure," Anders grinned. "Do you want to know—?"

"—No!" said Cauthrien.

"—Yes!" countered Fergus eagerly.

"—No!" Cauthrien insisted. "I want to be surprised."

Fergus smiled, and subsided. "You're the one in labor."

The talk turned to politics. Fergus was as alarmed at the news of the Qunari inroads as they could wish.

"Based on what I found out," Maude told them, "I'd say the initial appearance might well have been due to a shipwreck. However, the warship was near Kirkwall, which is ominous in itself. It appears that the Qunari are sending scouts and patrols deep into the Waking Sea. And now that they are in the city and digging in, I have a feeling that the Arishok is either seeking a pretext to attack or will simply lash out in frustration. It might take some time—maybe they want the city to become complacent—but the Qunari will eventually make their move."

"Are they proselytizing?" Cauthrien asked. "They might try to convert the underclass first. That could give them spies and infiltrators throughout the city."

"Good point," Maude acknowledged. "They're Qunari, They're always trying to convert bas like us. 'Trash'" she translated. "Dirty things who do not know the Qun." She played with her empty goblet, turning it to admire the chasings. "Considering how bad things are in the city for the refugees, the elves, and the native poor, I'd say time was on the side of the Qunari. The city guard couldn't take them, and the Templars won't lift a finger until the Chantry itself is attacked—"

"—and by that time, the rest of the city could have been sacked," Fergus finished for her. "Dumar was a fool to let them inside the walls. What was he thinking?"

Loghain shook his head. "It doesn't matter. What we need to do is fortify the Coastlands against them—against any invader, for that matter."

Fergus was thinking hard. "Father made some changes to Highever Harbor," he said, "to make sure the Orlesians could never use it to invade. And it's naturally defensible, too, with those two high headlands on either side."

Cauthrien frowned. "The Qunari have those explosives, of course..."

A very quiet, very private conversation ensued. They discussed the inventions of Dworkin Glavonak, and his explosive lyrium grenades. They discussed the improved fortifications devised by his brother, Voldrik. The Wardens suggested that future improvements were on the way. The Teyrn and Teyrn brought up their lean financial circumstances. The Wardens countered with an offer of a substantial loan, on very easy terms. Plans were made. Loghain felt the discussion had gone well, and was far more satisfied with the outcome than he had been in Denerim.

Cauthrien winced again, and looked a little distressed. Fergus was growing anxious. "Cauthrien, are you sure you don't need to go to bed?"

"I'm...all right," she assured him bravely. "I feel better doing things."

"It really is better for her," Anders put in. "Sitting up, even walking. It will actually help moving the process along. She's not sick, after all: she's having a baby. In a few hours."

"I confess I am restless," Cauthrien admitted. "But there is no reason that the rest of you should not get some sleep. Later, it may not be possible. Please. I'll send word when the time comes."

Maude went to bed, but not to sleep. It was clear that even sex was out of the question. Loghain sighed, seeing his young wife sitting up in bed, tense and alert, her eyes fixed on the door. Ranger licked her hand and whined.

"Go to sleep," Loghain ordered the dog. "She's just in one of her moods."

Ranger understood about his Maude and her moods. With an immense yawn, he turned around three times and ponderously settled down by Topaz and the puppies.

That dealt with, Loghain put an arm over Maude. "And you need to sleep, too."

"I can't sleep…"

"Maude," he said wearily, "we may only have an hour or two before we're summoned to witness the birth. And then we'll be mobbed with the rest of the guests."

"I can't sleep. What if something happens?"

"Nobody is going to attack the castle tonight."

"You'll be very embarrassed if someone does," Maude pointed out, still staring at the door. "You'll feel silly, if someone wakes us screaming outside, "'My lady, my lady, the castle is under attack,' and you hear his dying gurgle and his nails scrabbling as he slides down the door." She was exhausted, her head nodding slowly. She shook it and said, "Besides, it's utterly weird having a man with me in this bed. My father would absolutely have a fit if he caught me with a man in here."

"I thought you were about to say, 'My father would kill me if he caught me with a man in this bed.'"

"Nuh-huh. He'd never kill me, but he'd kill the man. Absolutely. Unless he was a good match. And then it'd be off to the chapel in my smallclothes for a crossbow wedding."

"We're married, Maude," Loghain reminded her.

"I know. It's still weird though…you being here. And I hate this coverlet. I had a nice green one. And the sheets are scratchy."

"The sheets are not scratchy."

"They're not like the sheets I had on this bed. They were perfect."

"I would think you'd be glad not to be sleeping on the same linens used by Rendon Howe's officers. Cauthrien probably made a point of burning them."

"True. Cauthrien's doing all right here," she mumbled dozily.

Loghain was glad of the admission. "Then shut your eyes and try to sleep."

Maude was already unconscious, issuing the daintiest of snores.

He should have expected complications.

Everything was rather hazy at the edges. Loghain pushed his way into the corridor and found himself facing a swarm of soldiers. Startled, they shrank back from him.

"—It's him!"

"—It's Teyrn Loghain!"

"—the Arl didn't say that Teyrn Loghain would be here..."

"—What are we going to do?"

"Stand down!" Loghain ordered. "What in the Maker's name are you doing sneaking about here armed? Lower your weapons!"

They looked at each other in bewilderment, but they did as they were told, of course. Every one of them looked exactly the same, which was certainly very odd. Loghain sneered in disgust and walked up the ramp. His armor felt strange...different...

He was in his old River Dane armor, but it was shining with an unearthly light. Pushing his way through a door, he found more curiously identical soldiers creeping about, fitting a key into a door. They caught sight of him and retreated like a pack of naughty children caught at mischief.

"Get out!" he told them. "You don't belong here."

They fled, and Loghain was left standing in a square stone chamber, a door in each of the four walls. He knew this place...

Castle Highever! Of course! He was visiting...

The left-hand door cracked open, and a pretty young face peered out. Ranger squeezed past the door and ran to him, tail wagging.

"Teyrn Loghain!" called a much younger Maude Cousland. "Arl Howe's men are attacking!"

"No, they're not," he contradicted. "I sent them away. Howe is dead, Maude. You killed him."

She took no notice of his words, but came out, dressed in hunting leathers. "We've got to save Father! We've got to save everyone! If we don't...they'll all be dead!"

Loghain blinked, feeling reality bending back on itself. He was here, visiting Castle Highever. In one reality, he was visiting Fergus Cousland and his wife Cauthrien. But superimposed over this was was another, powerfully persuasive timeline, one in which he was still Teryn of Gwaren, and Bryce Cousland had invited him for a visit to discuss the war. Should he not be at Ostagar? No, he was here, and Howe was here as well, somewhere in the Castle.

Wait. Maude was his wife, was she not? But this Maude—this strangely soft, frightened, wide-eyed young girl— did not look lilke his wife. She was insisting that she was the real Maude, but Loghain was almost sure she was not...

"Maude," he managed. "Maude. We're in the Fade. This is just a dream. You need to wake up."

"No!" she pleaded. "We're going to save them! It's going to be better this way! Just believe, and I can make everything sad come untrue!"

"Stop!" he caught at her arm. "Look! Ranger knows me! We have been married since we defeated the Blight. I don't know what you hope to accomplish, but I know that I do not want to live through the Blight all over again. It's over, Maude. You cannot go back to that night."

"I can! I can fix things..."

"I don't want you to fix things. I want my life the way it is. I'm happy, Maude, and I thought you were, too. You're expecting our child, Maude! If you change things, the child will die!"

She stared at him, horrified, her lips moving, her eyes rolling up to the ceiling in deep concentration.

"All right. This is how it's going to be. We're married. Father arranged it. I'm expecting a baby. Fergus left with the Highever troops. You, Father, and Howe are going tomorrow. Howe doesn't dare do anything with you here..."

"Maude! Your parents are dead. The Blight is over. I am Commander of the Grey in Ferelden."

"Duncan is here—"

"He'd better not bloody show his face!" Loghain shouted. "You are a Grey Warden and Regent of Gwaren and I am Warden-Commander! You bloody conscripted me yourself! When we're done here, we're going home to Soldier's Peak. Our home. You'll play in the rose garden. You'll sort out Oghren and that wife and child of his. Who is named after you, remember. We're going to recruit a whole company of archers. And then we're going to blow up the darkspawn with the blackpowder you stole from the Qunari!"

Her face altered very subtly. "Blow up darkspawn?"

"Yes. Blow up darkspawn. You'll like it."

"Blow up darkspawn..." The planes of her face were shifting, tautening...her eyes were brightening. She whispered, "And take their stuff?"

He kissed her. After the first, starled response, she kissed him back, and was once again the Maude he knew.

"Warden-Commander!"

The knock crashed through the dream-web of fantasy. The Veil was pushed back, and the Fade receded.

"Your Grace! The Teyrna's time has come. You are wanted."

Another knock, much louder.

Maude threw herself from the bed, scrambling for her sword. "I knew it!" she croaked. "They're here!"

Loghain caught her around the waist. She tried to slam her head back into his face. "Maude!" He gave her a shake. "Maude! Stop fighting! Cauthrien's having the baby!" To the door, he shouted, "Everything's fine! We're coming!"

Ranger whimpered and cracked an eye open. Deciding that it was nothing that concerned him, he went back to sleep.

Maude stopped struggling quite suddenly. "Oh."

"Yes. We're all right. What were you doing, messing about in the Fade like that?"

"I was trying to fix things."

"Everything's fine. It doesn't need to be fixed. We'll finish our visit here and then go home. Get dressed. The baby's coming."

"R...right."

He struck flint to tinder, and yellow candlelight bloomed in the dark chamber. Only the faintest light shone through the windows. It was not yet dawn, then. They would have a long and busy day. The dogs stirred and shook themselves. Loghain dressed quickly, and thought over that very peculiar dream.

"The Chantry teaches that only mages are supposed to be able to do things like that, you know," he pointed out.

"Well, I did do it, so obviously the Chantry is wrong, as usual. If I were a mage, I'd learn to do that crushing-prison thingy that Morrigan does. That's great. And I'd freeze things and then shatter them. That's always a good one."

"Are you wearing red?"

"If I get blood on the gown, it won't show."

He took her by the shoulders, and gave her a kiss. "Don't do that again. This is the only reality I want. Soldier's Peak is the only home I want, and you are the only Maude I want."

"Really?"

"Really and truly. Now come on."

While the delivery of the heir of Highever was not so well-attended or so formal as that of Princess Rhoswyn, a number of ladies were in the birthing chamber to bear witness. Lady Ormlaith, the young wife of Bann Loren, was in attendance, very pleased at this bit of recognition. It was a somewhat subdued gathering, shadowed by the death of Arlessa Isolde of Redcliffe. No one wanted to say the unlucky word, and see such another disaster.

Loghain waited outside with the men—other than Fergus and Anders, the healer in attendance. It vexed him, since he had been, from the beginning of their relationship, Cauthrien's foster-father for all practical purposes. It was he who had educated her—given her a chance in life—watched her blossom into womanhood and then train herself to be one of the greatest warriors in Ferelden. Their relationship had grown more complex over the years, but despite all the strains and differences of opinion, he felt a great deal for her. Now he was banished to an anteroom with the other useless and casual male acquaintances.

He could hear no screaming through the door, which, while no more than he expected of Cauthrien, still bothered him, since he had no clue what was happening. He forced himself to sit still, and glared at Bann Frandarel, when the nobleman started up a card game with his friends to beguile the time. The crude, old-fashioned little windows were pink with sunrise. Surely it could not be much longer?

There was excited feminine noise, muffled through the thick walls. After some time. the door opened on silent, oiled hinges.

"The Teyrna has borne a son, my lords," murmured a maidservant. "And she is well."

Loghain entered into a room of smiling faces. "Smiling," indeed, was too weak a word for Fergus Cousland's expression. Maidservants hustled away bloody linen. Happy chatter filled the room. Everyone pushed good-naturedly to get a look at the newest little Cousland. Loghain was relieved to see Cauthrien's radiant face. Stout warrior that she was, there was no sign of the exhaustion and strain he had seen with other new mothers. Cauthrien had done her duty, fought her battle, triumphed, and had sufficient strength left to celebrate her victory.

She and Maude were exclaiming over the swaddled baby, for once in perfect accord. Fergus swaggered over, grinning, and lifted the little bundle with the ease of prior experience,

"Behold, my friends!" Fergus called out, holding his son high. "Behold my son Caradoc! Lawfully born of my Teyrna—and may the Maker bless her for the great gift she had bestowed on me this day!"

Cheers and laughter. Fergus gave the tiny pink face a kiss, and raised his voice again.

"Bring wine to my guests—and to the Teyrna and me—for this birthing business is thirsty work!"

Not just wine, but some cider sent from Soldier's Peak was poured. Some very fine ale, too. Maude held the baby, while Cauthrien downed her cider, and the mob of guests passed in due course, offering their blessings and their birthing gifts. A clerk kept track of them, and they piled up impressively on a nearby table. There was quite a bit of good silver there.

Loghain watched Maude from the corner of his eye. She caught him at it.

"And no, I'm not going to steal from a baby," Maude whispered indignantly, "because that would be tacky!"

Thanks to my reviewers: Phygmalion, MsBarrows, Kira Kyuu, Josie Lange, Zute, Gene Dark, cloud1004, Dante Alighieri1308, Judy, JackOfBladesX, Thomas Blaine, RakeeshJ4, lynn-writer, Jenna53, Shakespira, Tyanilth, mille libri, Costin, mutive, KCousland, Enaid Aderyn, Tikigod784, karinfan123, Granoc, and Silent Storm.

I am totally making up the lore about married Templars, because I find Wesley such an anomaly. Sebastian in DA2 offers a "chaste" relationship only. It seems to me inconceivable that the Templars would be allowed marriage in any normal way. A "chaste" marriage might also explain why Aveline is so totally incompetent at courtship when she falls for Donnic.

The heavy grains of gaatlok Anders refers to are caused by a process called "corning" which improves the performance of black powder.