They headed back down to the commons after they'd left the palace. Right was silent the entire way, a frown on his face. He led them directly to Tapsters, and there sought out Dulin.
They found him seated in a booth in back, a scowl on his face and a half-drunken tankard of ale in front of him. The scowl deepened when Right slid into the seat across from him without invitation.
"I've heard about the lies you spread to Lady Dace and Lord Helmi," Dulin all but spat the words. "I have nothing to say to the likes of you."
"I can explain," Right said, calmly folding his hands together on top of the table.
"You've made it perfectly clear whose side you're on!" Dulin growled.
"I needed to know my sister – Bhelen's concubine – was safe," Right replied, voice still calm and reasonable. "And Bhelen wouldn't have trusted me if I came to you first."
Dulin looked up sharply. "Ah. I heard he had brought a noble-hunter into his house. I didn't realize you were related. But if so, I can't see why you'd turn against him now. If you want Lord Harrowmont to believe you would side against your own sister's family, you'll have to prove your loyalty." Dulin frowned thoughtfully, then continued. "Bhelen's already sent you to attack Lord Harrowmont's support. What has he asked of you next?"
"Bhelen wants me to shut down Jarvia's carta."
"A shrewd move. If Bhelen can take credit for shutting down Jarvia, it will buy him more support than any speech. Yet given Bhelen's own experiences with Dust Town, that might give us a better opportunity than it appears... Lord Harrowmont believes Bhelen hired Jarvia's thugs to kill his brother Trian. Casteless sell-swords he disposed of after the murder. If you could prove Bhelen hired these thugs, prove he sent casteless men to kill a royal prince... Let's say that might change a few votes."
Right nodded. "I'll see what I can find," he agreed.
"If you find anything incriminating, bring it to me and I'll get you an audience with Lord Harrowmont," Dulin promised.
Right nodded, rose to his feet, and walked away.
"Back to Dust Town," he said quietly as they left.
They were starting across the square to the building their rooms were in when Right came to an abrupt stop. A dwarf stood near the fire pit, facing them with arms crossed, clearly waiting for something. A broad grin crossed his face as he spotted them. "Right!" he called.
"Leske!" Right exclaimed, and hurried over, the two exchanging a back-slapping hug in greeting. "It's great to see you!"
"Heard through the grapevine that you were back, and looking for me," Leske said. "So, what are you doing here? Not crawling back to die in the Deep Roads, I hope?"
"Just hoping to catch up with you," Right said, grinning happily.
"Well, I'm glad I caught you first, duster, because I've been keeping out of sight since you took off."
"So you're not in the carta anymore?" Right asked, frowning.
"Stone, no! You think Jarvia'd give me a hug and kiss for taking down her lover?" Leske exclaimed. "I even talked about taking over when he was gone; you think she can't smell that?"
"Can you tell me what happened to the carta after I left?" Right asked.
"Jarvia didn't waste a day. Apparently, killing all possible competitors was her way of mourning. She made some kind of deal with Beraht's family topside, claimed to be his wife, and kept the whole lyrium trade flowing. But Endrin's death really opened new ground. All of a sudden, guardsmen were all busy in the Diamond Quarter. Jarvia moved right in."
"Where could I find her?"
"Bad idea, my friend," Leske said, shaking his head. "You know she and Beraht were lovers – she still blames us for his death. I'm sure she's heard you're back in town by now. What do you want her for?"
"Unfinished business. I don't think she's any more likely to leave me alone then you do, and unfortunately I don't have much choice about remaining in Orzammar for a while. I'll have to deal with her sooner or later, and I'd rather do it on my timing."
Leske glanced around, then lowered his voice. "Look, she'd kill me if she knew I know this, but after Bhelen took Rica up-city, the carta laid claim to your old home. They put a back entrance in. It just goes to some storage tunnels, but there's probably a way into Beraht's old estate from there. Now I'd better get out of here before anyone sees us together. But, uh, tell me how it turns out."
Leske and Right clasped wrists, then Leske hurried off, disappearing into the winding pathways heading off from the square.
Right stood a moment, looking after him with a frown on his face, then shook himself back into motion. "A back entrance into where we've been staying?" he said. "I really don't like the sound of that."
There was no sign of Sten or their belongings when they walked into their rooms. Instead, they found a group of dwarven thugs waiting for them.
The leader of the group smirked at them. "Jarvia said you were looking for trouble. Congratulations – you've found it," he said, then signalled his men to attack.
Right's group were drawings their weapons before the man had finished speaking; the attack was met with a counter-attack of their own, Zevran and Right each taking out a man while Alistair took on the leader, Stench and Shale knocking down and easily killing another of the thugs.
The leader's eyes widened in shock at how easily his men had been killed. With a cry he leaped backwards, dropping his weapons and holding up his hands in surrender. "D-don't kill me! Sodding ancestors, what do they teach you on the surface! You fight like a bleedin' archdemon!" he cried. "I was just doing what Leske asked! Said Jarvia gave the word to make sure you never left."
"Leske's working for Jarvia?" Right asked, scowling.
"He told us he'd get you here. All we had to do was take you out. You don't disobey Leske, you know? He's Jarvia's top man!"
"I can't believe it..." Right said, voice trailing off, then sighed. Actually, he could - all too easily. "Where is he now?"
"A-at the base, I guess. With Jarvia. That's where he usually is. The base is below the city. Y-you can get to it through the wall of the third house on this row. Put this token through the slot and it'll open," the thug said, shakily fishing something out his belt pouch and handing it over to Right.
"Will... will you let me go now?" he begged. " I got a kid. I got no other way to bring in coin..."
"Yes, go on, get out of here. And you don't want to be at Jarvia's when I get there." Right said threateningly.
"R-really? Oh, thank you! You're a... a good person. How do they say it? The ancestors have shown their favour. Bless you!" he exclaimed, and hurried away.
Right looked at the object in his hand – it looked like a bit of bone, with something scratched into it on one end – then tossed it in the end and caught it.
"Looks like I get to wipe out the Carta for the second time in less then a year," he said. "Come on, let's go."
The fingerbone opened the door, as promised. A short tunnel down brought them out into a large room, where they met the first resistance. After that it was pretty much a running fight through the place, groups of thugs rushing them out of side rooms and from cross-tunnels, with barely a moment free to catch their breaths.
It reminded him of his escape from here the year before, of course, only... more. More people to fight, more people that had to be killed, more people, thankfully, on his side too.
He noticed that Jarvia had been spreading out in more then one way; the carta had always been an all-dwarf organization before. Now its numbers included mercenaries from the surface; qunari, mainly, looking very out of place in the low-ceilinged corridors, an elven mage or two, an so forth.
At first it was all unfamiliar ground to him, parts of the headquarters he'd never seen during his escape. And then they reached the jails, where they spotted Sten locked up in a cell, a heavy guard of dwarfs waiting for them.
Had he and his companions been no better then the silver-a-dozen thug he'd been the year before, the force gathered there might have been formidable; instead, they were cut down with almost sickening ease. Right riffled the body of the jailor, finding the key for the cell doors, and set Sten free.
Their missing belongings were piled in a corner of the room. They paused for long enough that Sten could arm and armour himself, and for everyone to catch their breaths, sip at water, or nibble a bit of dried meat or fruit. Right just stood quietly, looking around at the cells. He'd been in that one; and Leske in that, the one Sten had been in. They'd fought their way out, together, partners as they'd been partners since Beraht had first matched them up when Right joined the carta. And now...
Well, he could hardly blame Leske for what had happened since he'd left. He'd gotten out of here, but Leske had been left behind, one of the two who'd decimated the carta's ranks. It was more surprising that he hadn't just been killed outright, then that he'd been recruited by Jarvia. She'd never been one to waste resources, and Leske probably had a pretty nasty reputation as a result of that night's work.
He just wished it could have been otherwise.
It was a fight through familiar territory after that; rooms and corridors he and Leske had fought through half a year ago. As they hewed their way through wave after wave of attackers, Right wondered if Leske and Jarvia had any realization of just what they'd unleashed on the carta. Probably not. They probably pictured him as being just like he'd been when he'd left; a good tough fighter, but not anything to get particularly worried about, not if you threw enough bodies in his way.
Now... well, he knew how much his companions excelled at fighting. And... he was beginning to realize that he was almost that good now, too. As they fought on, a strange mood came over him. He felt almost detached, as if some part of him had stepped back and was watching their fights, rather then participating in them. Watching, seeing how effortlessly they worked together, how unstoppable they seemed.
Alistair and Sten were drawing most of the attacks their way, as usual. Alistair was shouting and banging his shield, and hacking away one-handed with his sword. Sten waded into the thick of things, the impassive expression on his face as his massive two-handed sword rose and fell and rose again more frightening then any menacing scowl would have been.
Zevran was a non-stop whirl of motion, blades licking out in sudden flashing movements that seemed to almost magically slash throats, plunge into offered backs, cut hands so that weapons fell from nerveless fingers. Swords that tried to hit him missed, as he dipped and ducked and dodged, sometimes leaping into the air so that they passed right under him, a fierce grin of enjoyment on his face.
Shale, a nightmare figure, gore dripping from its stoney exterior, blades striking sparks as they scraped along it without damaging it, arrows splintering as they bounced harmlessly off it. And unlike humans, who usually had qualms about stepping on the fallen – even fallen enemies – the golem didn't particularly care what was underfoot.
Stench, bounding around the edges, lunging in to sink teeth into ankle or wrist, or knocking people to the ground and worrying at their throats.
And Right, in the middle of it too, maybe not quite as flashy a fighter as Zevran, not as nightmarish as Shale, not as noticeable as Alistair and Sten... but there, doing his job, dealing death as efficiently as he could.
Eventually they reached a door he recognized. He and Leske had found Beraht behind it so many months ago; he was certain that he'd find Leske and Jarvia behind it now.
He paused a moment, looked around at his companions, was startled to realize how thankful he was for their presence; how much he appreciated them being here. Even Alistair, who for all the friction between the two of them, never let it affect how well he did his job.
"One last room," Right said quietly. "They'll be ready for us."
They nodded, watching him attentively. Waiting for him to take the lead, to give the signal. He opened the door, and stepped through.
He never saw who killed Leske; he only knew it hadn't been any of his thrusts that had dealt the killing blow; he'd kept away from him in the fight, concentrating on Jarvia instead, not wanting to be the one to kill his old partner. By the precision of the blow, he suspected Zevran had done it; a single upward thrust, in through the stomach, up under the rib cage, and straight into the heart.
It had been a nasty fight; Jarvia had the room well-trapped, and archers ranged along the walls as well as a hand-picked group of her best thugs. She'd blustered and threatened, but he could see the fear in her eyes; she hadn't expected them to get this far. He just stared silently at Leske, trying to ignore how much it hurt to find himself on the opposite side from him.
"Leske – kill him!" she finally ordered. The two groups exploded into movement, Right ignoring everything else to head straight for Jarvia. He'd fought her alone, trusting the others to deal with everyone else, tuning out the arrows whipping by, the shouts and screams, only seeing her in front of him. She'd fallen a lot faster then he'd expected her too; by then Leske was already down and dead, and they just had a few final thugs to mop up. Then it was over, the carta once again finished with, at least until someone else stepped up to rebuild it all over again. Right had little doubt that the first few candidates would start fighting it out the moment the carnage here was discovered and word began to spread.
A search of Jarvia's body turned up a key to a small office off to one side; in a chest there he found documents that outlined an agreement exactly like Lord Harrowmont's man had described; an arrangement for the death of Bhelen's eldest brother, Prince Trian, at the hands of a force of casteless thugs, said thugs to be disposed of afterwards so that they could never speak of what they'd done.
More documents too; other contracts and agreements, and some love letters, by the look of them. He took those along as well, to go over later.
On the way out he paused by Leske's body, and stood looking down at it for a long moment, remembering how close they'd been as partners. Years of teamwork, and in one short half-year away... all gone. He felt a hand on his shoulder, turned his head to find Zevran behind him.
"Let's go," he said tiredly, and led them out.