"If I didn't know you better, I'd say you looked like you'd seen the Void," quipped Alistair. "But...judging by that smirk, I don't think I really want to know what you did get up to," he added hastily, when Athadra's lips parted. The taller Warden held up his hands and shook his head. "I can imagine well enough, thanks."
"You can't, actually," Athadra sighed contentedly, with a glance at Zevran. The Antivan merely yawned and grunted a string of curses in Antivan; it was nearly nightfall again as they stood in the arl's small bailey, and both had a few glistening pink mementos of their night with Captain Isabela...though Athadra had given the pirate a few new scars for her own, as well. "Sorry about the White Falcons. I didn't think they'd get their smalls twisted about so quickly."
"It is quite alright," Leliana said, stepping out from a shadowed alcove. The Warden saw the handle of a new axe at her back, in place of one of her daggers. "Sergeant Kylon and his men helped us to deal with them in the alleyway."
Alistair nodded. "He says he's got more work for us...well, for you, whenever you're interested."
"Were his coin good this time?"
"A couple of sovereigns," Alistair replied. "Not bad for a bit of intimidation."
The Warden rolled her eyes. "Bet you never thought you'd earn some money at the Pearl."
Zevran coughed beside her. "Speak for yourself, Commander."
A rumbling in Athadra's stomach stole any reply. "I'll see to Kylon tomorrow. What of Eamon?"
Alistair shrugged. "Still holed up in the palace with the rest of the nobles. The first session of the Landsmeet will end in a couple of days. One of the pages says the arguments are going in circles, so it looks like we'll be keeping our heads...for the moment."
"Like a bunch of sodding dwarves," sighed Athadra. "I'm for the kitchens. Come on, boy." Garahel had rejoined her side mere moments after she passed the estate's portcullis, followed shortly thereafter by Alistair and his bard. The Warden nodded at her companions and fell to harassing the cook; between her and the dog, the poor old woman complained that the larder would be drained by the next tide. When their bellies were full, the elf and canine retired to the room they shared with the Sten and Oghren.
The next day, Athadra took the Qunari and the dwarf along with her to suss out Sergeant Kylon, in the market square. She wore Starfang and her Warden Commander plate, Garahel padding proudly by her side. The man expressed his gratitude with her help, lacing his thanks with complaints about noble bastards and Howe's picked men in his own ranks, and set her the task of flushing another gang of mercenaries out of a tavern.
"Can I kill them this time?" The blood she'd shed in the captain's quarters had only whetted Athadra's appetite.
Kylon sighed heavily. "They're in the Gnawed Noble-a much more reputable place, just off the square here." He nodded over Athadra's shoulder, and she felt a glimmer of annoyance. "As the name implies, the nobility love to gather there. The proprietor, Edwina, says she wouldn't mind a bit of...sport...to amuse her well-bred customers."
The Warden's budding disappointment quickened into anticipation. "I understand." With a nod, she parted company with the sergeant.
As Athadra crossed the square, a foreign merchant caught her attention; she thought of simply ignoring him, but his accent reminded her of Zevran's, and a few words were enough to imply that he might be involved with the Antivan Crows. His name was Cesar, and evidently his brother Ignacio had a room at the Gnawed Noble, with an offer for the Warden. If not for that happenchance, Athadra might have ignored the opportunity. As things stood, she suspected a trap, but she also trusted the strength of her and her companions' arms.
The mercenaries styled themselves the Crimson Oars. The Warden tried, a bit half-heartedly, to get them to quit the tavern of their own accord...and when their leader refused, she washed the floorboards and the walls with the blood of his men. The important men and women of the realm were all still tied-up in the Landsmeet proper, but many of their children and siblings bore witness to the slaughter, and Edwina had nothing but praise for the 'sport'.
And so, blood-spattered in her Warden war-glory, Athadra met Ignacio. Though the man had two Qunari bodyguards, he spread his hands out in a gesture of peace. "Even in Rialto, we have heard of the Warden Commander in Ferelden," he said, by way of greeting. "I am Master Ignacio, and I am very happy to meet you."
"Athadra," the Warden volunteered. She'd sheathed Starfang, but kept her own hands within inches of her daggers' hilts. "You looking for me, or for the man that failed to kill me?"
"I have to say that I have no idea who you're talking about," Ignacio intoned very deliberately. "It is true that a guildmaster of the Antivan Crows accepted a contract on your life, but as far as I am concerned, the squadron sent to fulfill the contract was lost...with no survivors. I will take great care not to learn otherwise."
Athadra's brow rose, and she couldn't tell whether the man's obliquity was meant to threaten her or merely protect himself. "And why would a guildmaster in Antiva care whether I live or die?"
Ignacio shrugged. "Because you have powerful enemies, who wish to see you put to sea without a sail."
"And leave the country to the mercy of the darkspawn," the Warden added, her eyes narrowing.
"It was thought," Ignacio admitted, "that Teyrn Loghain was more than a match for the creatures...while you were untested, and a fool's bargain. That...is no longer the case."
"You mean you and he've tried to kill me and failed once too often?" Her head cocked as she regarded him, her blood-coloured eyes flashing.
"I must point out that I haven't ever tried to do anything to you, Warden," Ignacio said hastily. "Civil war breeds contempt amongst friends, and brings old hatreds to the surface. It is...good for business, if you're in a particular line of work."
Oghren swallowed a grunt. "Bit like a plague's good for the body-cartin' business."
Ignacio's smile was thin, but he inclined his head to the dwarf. "Sometimes, a fellow can get a little...short-handed, I believe you say here. Maybe too many contracts engaged at once for a reputable resolution."
"Wait," Athadra spoke up. "You want me to work for you?" Her brow drew down at the man's inscrutable expression. "Why?"
"As you say," Ignacio replied. "You have proven yourself a difficult woman to kill. If someone crosses paths with the Crows and lives, they must possess some kind of skill...skill which can come in handy to certain interested parties." He nodded over his shoulder. "If you want, you can take a look at the chest behind me. It might have something in it of interest to you, as well."
Athadra glanced from Ignacio to his two enormous thugs, but neither seemed to be readying for an assault. "Why would I want to do that?"
"Once a guildmaster has accepted a contract," said Ignacio, "it is always concluded. The Crows have never rescinded a contract...so you will still be a target of the Crows until either you or the master who's after you is dead." When he saw Athadra's eyes narrowing dangerously, he put up his hands. "But if you also help the Crows out," he added quickly, "then the other guildmasters may decide to ignore any offers for your head in the future. And when your guildmaster asks for their assistance, he might be answered with silence...yes?"
The Warden hesitated. Part of her wished she'd brought Zevran along, but she didn't want to risk renewing the Crows' interest in him. "So I help you out, and you look the other way when I kill one of your guildmasters?"
Ignacio shrugged. "I can only say that I'm not asking you to do anything...I'm just offering you something interesting to read." His thumb jerked to the chest behind him. "And if something were to happen to anyone you read about, you tell me about it. I will pass the tragic news along, and whoever hears it might be so overcome with grief that they take no further interest in you. How does that sound, Warden?"
"Like shit stewed in piss," replied Athadra. "But...if you're telling the truth, I can see the benefit in your offer. If you're not..." Her voice lowered, but her lips curled into a grin. "Then your associates had better hope that the Archdemon kills me before they try again." She could see Ignacio's throat working in a swallow, and she nodded. "I'll take a look at your papers."
"Thank you, Warden," Ignacio sighed. When she'd rifled through a few of the sheafs in the chest and turned to go, he coughed. "I'll be here, if you should discover any news that I might want to know. Luck be to you."
Athadra fixed him with her crimson stare for a long moment, before she swept from the room with her companions at her flanks. For the next three and a half days, the Warden played something of a double-agent, taking Alistair with her to clear Denerim's alleyways of brigands for Sergeant Kylon in the mornings and spending her afternoons with Zevran on the Crows' business; oddly, her first job involved confronting a gang of kidnappers, and paying their ransom in blood. The Antivan elf accompanied her whenever she returned to the Gnawed Noble to report on the 'unfortunate accidents' that she caused for the Crows, and Zevran grudgingly admitted that Ignacio might be trustworthy, but he still cautioned against getting too involved with the assassins' guild.
En route to the last job in Ignacio's chest, on the very afternoon that the Landsmeet was called to recess, Athadra thought she'd been betrayed by the shady guildmaster at last; a handsome-looking man stood waiting for them on an alleyway stairwell, flanked by two archers. He seemed unimpressed by the sight of the Warden and her companions, until his eyes lit upon Zevran.
"What are you doing here, Taliesen?" The Antivan sounded shocked and, perhaps, a bit afraid. Athadra's brow drew down and she strained her ears to hear if anyone else moved in the shadows around them.
"I've come for you, of course," the man said. His tongue lacked the clip of Zevran's and Ignacio's, but Athadra couldn't tell if he was from Ferelden or simply knew the language well enough to pass. "It's good to see you again, my friend." His smile seemed genuine enough.
Zevran tensed, but he didn't reach for his daggers...at least, not yet. "Our guildmaster knows I live?"
Taliesen shrugged. "He suspects...and he isn't too happy, I'll tell you." The Crow pulled a sorrowful expression and shook his head. "You're a survivor, Zev. I know you've done what you had to do...and now you need to make a choice." Athadra glanced from the Crow to her companion, and she wasn't too alarmed to see a hint of doubt cross his features. "Come back with me," Taliesen pleaded. "We'll make up a story. It'll turn out alright...I promise."
"Except," the Warden interrupted, "you'll have to make sure I ain't around to contradict your little story. Right?" Her left hand already rested on the hilt of a dagger, while the fingers of her right scratched at her neck, within centimetres of Starfang's pommel.
The Crow regarded her warily. "Sadly, yes," he said with a solemn nod. "Our guildmaster won't be satisfied without your blood."
It was Zevran's turn to cut in. "And I'm not about to let that happen."
Athadra's gaze lanced over to him again. "Are you sure?" Her tone was flat, though her heart raced; he stood beside her, the first within striking distance if he'd decided the other way.
Zevran nodded, his eyes still on their guest. "You and I were friends once, Taliesen...friends, and more." He blinked, but his voice did not shake. "Yet I have been free for some months now, and my bonds would chafe me twice as raw if I took them up again."
Athadra might have sworn she saw the Crow's eyes glisten for a heartbeat. "Then you will die with her," he breathed, and snapped his fingers.
The Warden jumped back without thinking, and she saw arrows crossing midair where she'd stood. Suddenly the alley was alive with men and women exquisitely-trained in the art of murder, and dead set on seeing her to the Void. Zevran proved his loyalty and re-proved his worth; he didn't hesitate in cutting down his former comrades, even Taliesen. The man had prepared his ambush well, and it was evening before they returned to Eamon's estate and Friga's diligent care-all of them had cause to be grateful for Athadra's foresight in bringing the Avvar mage, for Taliesen's detachment of Antivan Crows had proved just as hard to kill as the squad Zevran had commanded, so long before.
The elf promised that Ignacio had had nothing to do with Taliesen's attempt on their lives, and so the next evening, Athadra fulfilled the final contract from the guildmaster's chest. He swore that no more contracts on her head would be considered-even implying that she would be welcome in Antiva, once she'd seen to 'her guildmaster'. The Warden promised nothing, but she was relieved that the man hadn't betrayed her, after all. Sergeant Kylon was also satisfied with her work on his behalf, and on top of paying her decently, he gave his word to spread support for the Grey Wardens amongst the citizenry of Denerim.
At Eamon's suggestion, Athadra spent nearly all of the following two days in the Gnawed Noble, annoying the high-ranking patrons. The Landsmeet's recess was to end soon, and if they did not find more support amongst its members, there was real danger of losing their bid to replace Loghain with Alistair. The two Wardens did what they could, but none of the banns or arls seemed willing to offer a firm commitment, one way or another. It became clear that something drastic would need to happen to sway the nobles to the Wardens' cause...yet, short of the Archdemon appearing atop Fort Drakon, Athadra could not predict what might serve.
On the third day, just as the Warden returned for a midday meal, the answer to her quandary presented itself in the form of a summons to Arl Eamon's study. When she and Alistair arrived, she saw him already engaged in conversation with an elven maid.
"...I am afraid 'e does not even feed 'er!" The elf exclaimed, her Orlesian accent bleeding through nearly every syllable. Athadra cleared her throat, and Eamon blinked at them.
"Ahh," he sighed. "Champion, may I present to you Erlina, handmaiden to the Queen."
Athadra arched a brow. "What's she doing here?"
"I am 'ere to save my mistress!" Her voice was raw, and several strands of her fine, dark hair had escaped from her bun. "Teyrn Howe 'as locked 'er away," she claimed.
"It would make sense," Eamon said. "I was surprised to hear Anora venture to speak in moderation at the Landsmeet." When the Warden merely inclined her head, the arl continued. "She urged that the branding of traitor be lifted from us, claiming that we sought the same ends as her father," he explained.
Alistair scoffed. "Funny, I didn't think the bastard was suicidal."
Erlina shook her head. "In private, in confidence, she 'as said much more than that for your cause. She...believes that 'er father...'e killed King Cailan, Andraste bless 'is soul."
"Could be a trap," Athadra pointed out. She'd had a fair bit of experience with them over the last week, after all.
At this, the handmaiden wailed. "It is not! I swear it on my life!" She'd nearly shredded a fine silken handkerchief in her anxiety. "Teyrn Howe 'as 'er as a guest for 'er protection," she lamented. "I believe 'e means to kill 'er before the next recess, and try to frame you for the murder!"
"Or," Alistair spoke up, "she could already be dead...and this 'rescue mission' could be part of his plan."
Before Erlina could protest further, however, Athadra shook her head. "If that's so, there's little we can do to gainsay him anyway." Her fists clenched at her sides. "From what we've heard of the new Teyrn of Highever, I wouldn't put anything past him."
Arl Eamon laid a hand on Erlina's shoulder to help calm her. "What do you propose, Champion?"
The candlelight caught Athadra's blood-coloured eyes as she shared a glance with the arl. "I'm going to kill the bastard," she assured him. "And if Anora still lives, I'll deliver her to you."
"That would tip the balance," Eamon reasoned. "Though we cannot see which direction the scales shall tilt. Tread carefully, Champion."
Erlina composed herself as best she could. "We must prepare, then. I can get you and a few companions into the teyrn's estate disguised as guards. The Maker willing, we shall 'ave my mistress 'ere before eventide."
"Very well," Athadra acceded; she gathered Leliana, Zevran, and Alistair to the task...the first two because they were the least conspicuous, and her fellow Warden because he refused to stay behind. She agreed, and supposed he had a right to witness the fall of one of Loghain's trusted men, after all.
