"Which one?"

Jerath looked up at Loghain. "Which one what?"

"Which Night Elf taught you to fight?"

"Adaia Tabris." Jerath twitched a shoulder. "My mother."

"Adaia Tabris was your mother? Yes... I see it now... in your eyes." Loghain smiled in memory. "She was quite the firebrand."

"Yes."

"I imagine she's quite proud to see what you've become."

"She's been gone a long time now."

"I'm sorry to hear that." He remembered the young woman, her long knives moving faster than the eye could see. They'd stood back to back at the Silver Creek, her knives protecting him while he fired arrows. It seemed another life.

"Are you?"

Something in the way the young man had asked the question made it a dangerous one. "Of course."

"You realize, were she still alive, she would have been living in the Alienage? There were a few other veterans there, as well."

"I... There is no saving the alienage. Damage from the riots has yet to be repaired. There are bodies still rotting in their homes. It is not a place I would send my worst enemy. There is no chance of holding it if the Blight comes to Denerim. Despite what you may think, Warden, I have done my duty. Whatever my regrets may be for the elves, I have done what was needed for the good of Ferelden."

"Of course. You did your duty, as expected." Jerath finished polishing his axe, and went to work on his sword. "Did you need anything else?"

"No, I suppose not..." His life was, quite literally, in this young man's hands. And he still wasn't sure why Jerath had been willing to stand against his friends on Loghain's behalf. He'd have expected the elf to hold the most anger for him, and yet, the boy had even been kind. He looked at this shield strapped to his arm. Lost in Ortan Thaig, over two decades ago. Handed to him by Adaia's son.

Jerath looked down at his sword, frowning at the metal. "It will take a few days for the armies to gather at Redcliffe." He glanced over at the parcel beside him. "Saitada ran into one of Cailan's guards, who says there may be information of use back in the king's camp at Ostagar."

"I see..."

"In the morning, you and I are heading out to retrieve it."

So the dwarf was not forgiving after all. "Would it not be cleaner to simply execute us?"

"She seems to think us all remaining together is going to end in bloodshed." Jerath twitched a shoulder. "After we are done there, we are going to make a quick trip into the deep roads for Shale. She's coming with us. We will meet back in Denerim, then be at Redcliffe by the time the Dalish and the dwarves have arrived."

"You are being unrealistically optimistic about our chances of success."

Jerath sheathed his blade, and stood. "Shale and Morrigan will be coming with us."

"I stand by my previous remark." Loghain shook his head. "There is nothing left in Ostagar that could possibly be worth the risk. This is a fool's errand."

"That would be why we are going." Jerath shrugged. "Do you trust me, Loghain?"

"I..." Loghain frowned. "That is an odd question for you to ask. Certainly you do not trust me."

"You swore you would follow me. I am willing to trust that oath. I am asking if you trust me."

Loghain starred at the smaller man. "Yes." He was surprised to hear the word pass his lips.

Jerath nodded. "This trip is necessary, though not for the reasons Saitada thinks."

"You know something she does not?"

Jerath turned his eyes to the south. "I know it is necessary for you to return to Ostagar, and for me to be there when you do."

#

Saitada watched the small party leave. She shook her head. Sten fell into step beside her as they walked back to Eamon's manor. She stopped, and looked up at him. "Was he right?" She gestured towards the gate Jerath had led his party through. "I don't have a clear view from my angle."

"I believe that he is an apt pupil, and that you have taught him well."

"I just wish I understood why he did it."

"He believed it to be his role. I believe he acted because he knew you could not. I have yet to observe him stray from his purpose, either as warden, or as your second in command."

"He isn't my second."

"Is he not the one you send, when you cannot go yourself?"

She sighed, then nodded. "I never really thought of it. I just know I can count on him to do what needs be done."

"As he did at the Landsmeet."

"You agree with what he did."

"The Qunari do not waste. Killing Loghain would have been a waste."

"I suppose there is wisdom in that. I just don't like it." She looked to where Brehan and Leliana were talking with a revered mother. "There is some wisdom in the Chant, you know."

"Then someone should release it into the wild. It is in danger of dying out."

That got a smile. "Good one, were you saving that up?"

"No, that came to me just now." He looked pleased to have gotten her to smile. Then he turned his gaze to where the chantry stood. "Tell me: Where is the wisdom in crying for a derelict god to save you?"

She leaned back on the gate, and looked up at him. "True, we have to save ourselves."

He leaned on the wall next to her. "My people have a tale: A great ashkaari during his travels came upon a village in the desert. There, he found the houses crumbling. The earth so dry and dead that the people tied themselves to each other for fear a strong wind would carry the ground out from under their feet. Nothing grew there except the bitter memory of gardens. The ashkaari stopped the first man he saw, and asked, 'what happened here?' 'Drought came. And the world changed from prosperity to ruin,' the man told him."

"So what happened?"

"'Change it back.' The ashkaari replied. The villager became angry then, believing the ashkaari mocked him, for no one could simply change the world on a whim. To which the ashkaari answered, 'then change yourself. You make your own world.'"

"I suppose you have a point."

"Believe in whatever you like: absent creators, or whimsical gods. Follow prophets, or ashkaari, or omens in the earth and sky. You will find wisdom only if you seek it."

#

Morrigan frowned. "Their spells are more potent than they should be. This has the feel of something directed, not merely random happenstance."

"This is how they entered Ishal the first time. Digging a pit like this, it took time." Jerath walked along the rim of the pit.

Loghain shook his head. "How could they have known the battle plan would relied on Ishal? That did not become part of the plan until that very day. I had initially planned to use mages, back when I thought the plan had a chance of success."

Jerath bent, looking down into the pit. "Interesting that they would know Ishal would be the signal... but not that the signal would go unanswered."

Loghain sighed. "We could not flank something that had no flank. Had there been any chance of reaching Calian at Ostagar... I would have."

"I believe that you believe that, for what it's worth." He turned the sword he'd picked up over in his hands. "Interesting."

"What is interesting about that blade?" Morrigan asked.

"It's not the blade, exactly." He held it out as if testing the balance as they started out of the tower. "They strung Cailan up like a trophy."

"And?"

"This is Duncan's blade. He died beside Cailan. Why string up the king, but not the commander of the Grey? The commander of the grey, at least, they could reasonably recognize?"

"That is..." She stopped, and then frowned thoughtfully. "That is an interesting notion. Perhaps they had another use for Duncan's body?"

"I thought Darkspawn were mindless." Loghain kicked a genlock into the pit.

"They are, near enough. At least they are supposed to be." He put the blades in his pack, and started moving. He stopped at Cailin's body. "It does not seem right, to let them have their trophy." He turned to Loghain. "Help me cut him down."

""You intend to burn him?"

"We don't have time for that. I heard wolves, earlier. That will serve to keep him from the darkspawn as well as any pyre."

#

They came across a mage protecting a group of refugees on their way back to Redcliff. Brosca blinked, then took a second look at the mage.

"You?" He stared at Lenore. "It's you, again." He glanced at the others. "Please don't do anything to me. I've only been trying to help."

One of the refugees moved to stand in front of Jowan. "Don't be scaring good Master Levyn. He's saved us three times over!"

Lenore smiled. "Stay your current course, 'Levyn'. Redemption suits you."

He returned the smile. "Th-thank you, Warden. I will. I swear to you." He glanced at the others. "Everyone, let's move. The Warden has more... important matters to attend to."

#

Loghain took the cup Jerath handed him. The swamp witch was engrossed in reading a tome, while the golem took up watch some distance from the camp.

"I'm not sure what good these papers will do. Celene's plot died with Cailan"

"Assuming that was the full intent of her plot."

Loghain nodded. Orlesians plotted the way most people breathed. "A fair point."

Jerath sipped from his own mug. He glanced over to where Morrigan had busied herself with the grimore, then asked Loghain, "Was Ostagar what Flemeth meant when she warned Maric about you?"

Loghain's eyes widened. "How could you..."

"She told Maric that if he kept you close, you would betray him, each time worse than the last."

"And how do you know this?"

"She told me. Before I killed her."

"You... killed Flemeth?" He stared at the elf. Even having fought him, having seen him cut his way past ogres, he had trouble believing that.

"Yes." He twitched a shoulder. "Though I doubt it took."

"I threatened her once. A tree grabbed me."

"No trees. She did turn into a very large dragon though."

Loghain frowned. "You'd think something like that would sound unbelievable." He gazed into the fire. "She told Maric that sometimes, vengeance changes the world." He shook his head. "She knew things she couldn't possibly have..."

"She knew I'd come to kill her. I believe she expected me." He gave a twitch of his shoulder. "She told me there were many, many reasons to kill her, more than I could possibly know. She also said that this Blight's threat was greater than we realized. It was she who saved us from the Tower of Ishal."

"Why did you kill her then?"

"Morrigan is her daughter."

"I see."

"No, I don't quite believe you do, but no matter. Flemeth didn't seem to take it personally, in any event." Jerath drained his tea. "But then, I believe that's because the entire thing played out to her expectations. She was expecting us when we first came to the wilds. She gave us the treaties. She even seemed to know that Jory would not survive the joining."

"Jory?"

"A knight, from Redcliff. He... declined to participate in the ritual. Duncan killed him."

"I see."

"She asked me what I believed."

"What did you tell her?"

"That believed or not, some things must be accepted." He frowned. "It appeared to be the answer she was looking for. She played herself off as a madwoman, but I believe she may have been saner than any of us."

"She asked Maric to give her a promise and to never speak of it. Did she ask the same of you?"

"Yes."

"Did you agree?"

"Yes."

"Is that why we are here, then?"

"Maybe."

Loghain smiled ruefully. "She warned Maric the blight was coming. And that he would not live to see it."

"That would explain why he let the Wardens back into Ferelden." Jerath refilled his cup. "It seems we are all dancing to Flemeth's tune."

"A discouraging notion, to say the least." Loghain frowned. "Do you trust Morrigan then?"

Jerath laughed. "I trust Morrigan about half as far as I can throw her."

"Indeed. Were he fool enough to trust me, I would not enjoy his company so much." Morrigan said, not bothering to look up from her tome.

Loghain shook his head. "I suppose you disapprove of my being here as well."

Morrigan laughed. "No, indeed. You are a vast improvement over Alistair. That, however, is not saying a great deal."

They sat in silence for a moment, looking over the ruins. Loghain cast his senses about, experimenting a bit with his newfound abilities. He could sense the difference between the wardens and the darkspawn. The Dalish elf was able to not only manage that, but to tell one warden from another, even somehow managing to track them by the sense of their passing.

"Would it have been so bad?" Jerath asked quietly, pulling Loghain out of his reverie.

"Would what have been so bad?"

"Cailan wedding Celene."

"Yes."

"Do you hate Orlais so much?"

"Hate doesn't describe it. I've seen painted, masked lords beat an old farmer to death with riding crops. To this day, I don't know why. Is that hate? I saw good, sensible men fight armored chevaliers with nothing - - no weapons, no armies, not even hope of success - - to see the occupation end. Is that hate?"

"It seems more personal than just that."

"They made me watch while they held my mother down and raped her, then slit her thoat when they were finished." Loghain found himself surprised that he was telling the elf this. "They took whatever they wanted, and killed if you dared object. And Cailan would have put us back under their bootheels."

Jerath stared out over the ruins. "Adaia Tabris was a warrior, trained under the tutelage of Ferelden's greatest general. It's possible she could have defeated the men who attacked her..." His eyes grew distant as he stared into the fire. "But one held a knife to her son's throat. When they were done, they bashed her skull with a rock. Blood made their hands slippery enough to pull free, and dive beneath the docks. Through the middens and junk piles, tunnels too small for them to follow. I've seen lordlings drag screaming girls away from their families, then two days later fished the girl's body out of the water by the docks. I've seen a few voices finally manage to make themselves heard for the injustice, and seen friends and family slaughtered in retaliation. I've walked through an orphanage where children were cut down in their beds. It's hate. And pretty words about it being in the past won't change it when it will only happen again tomorrow. And it wasn't done by Orlesians, or some foreign power. It was done on Maric's watch, by his soldiers. It was done on Anora's watch, by her guards. It was done by the man you put in power, Loghain, to cause the consequences you used to justify selling my kin into slavery to furnish your little war. An act my allies, the people in this world I'd even go so far as to consider my friends, considered so petty it wasn't even worth bringing up at the Landsmeet. Adaia Tabris saved your life, Loghain. And it was Maric's guardsmen who killed her, who threw her body on a midden heap. She won the battle of Twin Hills for you and was murdered not by Orlesians, Loghain. Fereldens. Then your Tevinters came to sell Adaia's husband into slavery. I understand your hatred, Loghain. I know the rage. The part I don't understand is your persistent delusion that Fereldens are any different."

"I..."

"I didn't choose to join the Wardens either, Loghain. The words I used to conscript you are the same words Duncan used to conscript me. I slaughtered my way through the Arl of Denerim's estate. I used poison. I cut throats. I tore Vaughan's head off his shoulders. And I brought home the women he'd stolen, the women he'd raped, the body of the woman he murdered. That's when the guards, Anora's guards, finally decided to pay attention to what was happening. They came to the alienage with torches, prepared to burn down homes to find out who did it. So I took responsibility. And then Duncan conscripted me, right out from under the guard's noses. Denied that revenge for some pathetic human lordling, the guards came back later. Torches, plague, enough children slaughtered to tear the veil and give rage demons form. Bodies still rotting in their homes, an entire people abandoned to a place with no chance of being held against the Blight." He crushed the cup in his hands.

Loghain stared at him in silence. Shale was still off in the darkness somewhere, likely not even aware of the confrontation at the campfire. He was surprised to realize that Jerath had not been shouting at all. In fact, the young man's voice had never changed from his normal, calm speaking voice. The swamp witch still appeared engrossed in her book, though he doubted she was ignoring the events as thoroughly as it appeared.

"I... why did you conscript me? It can't be for the reasons you gave the dwarf."

"You haven't figured that out yet?"

"No..." An idea came to him, as far fetched as it seemd. "The swamp witch..."

Jerath removed the daggers from his boots and set them on the rock next to him. "My mother once told me that in all the world, there were only two humans she'd ever held any respect for. And that it always amused her that both had given her the same gift ... a knife." He held up the first dagger, inlaid with a griffin on the handle. "This one was given to her by Duncan. And so I accepted my conscription." He held up the second, its hilt carved to resemble a mabari. "This one... you recognize, I suppose. And I conscripted you." He replaced the knives. "The swamp witch told me that life is full of circles and choices, and that little is as chance as it seems."

"Your mother didn't start out a night elf. Her brother was one, and she just sort of attached herself to the unit, running our errands. Bringing tea."

"My mother made you tea..."

"Yes."

"And you... drank it...?"

"These were dark and troubled times. Believe it or not, I'd tasted worse." Loghain smiled fondly in memory. "She was there when we were planning the battle of Twin Hills. We needed a distraction, something to keep the chevaliers from chasing us down on horseback after we cut the supply line. I had the night elves take position. The plan was they would pepper the chevalier's with arrows, cut down their numbers that way." He shook his head. "They were unneeded. Your mother snuck into the chevalier's camp, just another young elf in servant's clothes. She cut the lines of their horses and set a tent on fire to start a stampede. We took the supply caravan with almost no casualties." He smiled. "I didn't know whether to spank her or give her a medal. So I gave her that dagger , told the others she was my personal servant and told her she was my new bodyguard. That kept her out of... most of the trouble."

"She'd been back in the alienage a year when Duncan came. Valendrian, our Hahren, arranged a marriage for her to keep her out of the wardens."

"Arranged?"

"Most elfish marriages are arranged. My own was."

"You are married."

"No. I was conscripted. The women Vaughan carried off... that was at what was to have been the wedding. It never took place."

"I see. Still, I'm surprised Adaia agreed to an arranged marriage."

"She wasn't happy about the idea, at first, she told me. Then she met my father. Duncan thought about inviting her to join the wardens, but decided against it." Jerath met Loghain's eyes. "Perhaps he made a mistake there. Would you have listened to Adaia?"

"No." Loghain sighed. "I may have treated her with more respect than I did Duncan, but I would not have heeded her warnings either. I knew the Darkspawn were a threat, but I still considered Orlais the greater threat."

"And now?"

"The dragon, the one in our dreams... that is the archdemon?"

"Yes."

Loghain couldn't quite prevent a shudder. "Feeling it, being so close to this many darkspawn... this is why you brought me back to Ostagar."

"Yes."

"It's not just Ferelden at risk, anymore. It's all of Thedas..." Loghain frowned. "What do they do, with the ones they drag off alive?"

"The men are the lucky ones. They get eaten. The women get turned into broodmothers, darkspawn that make more darkspawn."

"You know this?"

"I've seen it." He actually shuddered. "A dwarven woman, named Laryn. The darkspawn corrupted her, made her eat her own kinfolk, including her husband."

"Did you..."

"I killed her. She almost returned the favor."

"There were... women, among the soldiers at Ostagar."

"And among the few servants that remained, yes. Genlocks come from dwarven broodmothers, hurlocks from human. The shrieks come from elfish broodmothers. It's likely the ogres are a result of Qunari broodmothers, but we haven't found any yet to confirm."

"That is... a profoundly disturbing thing to consider."

"Hespith set it to poetry."

"Hespith?"

"A dwarven woman, in the process of being turned into a broodmother. I killed her too."

"I..."

"The darkspawn come from us. Each village they take, each alienage, each group of refugees, they can make more broodmothers, increase their numbers still further. Once they take Ferelden, they will take Thedas."

"We must stop them."

"Welcome to the Grey Wardens, Loghain."

#

Brehan shattered the genlock's skull. Despite being mortally wounded, the wolf locked her jaw onto the emissary, bearing the creature down. The emissary stabbed the wolf in the side again, and the wolf went still. Brehan avenged her a moment later by smashing the thing's skull.

Leliana looked around. "Was that all of them?"

"Scouts or stragglers," Brehan said. He cast his senses. "No more in my range." He started to turn towards her, then heard a sound. He walked in it's direction. "Ah, so that's why she didn't run."

"What?"

"The wolf." He bent, picking up the pup. It couldn't have been more than a few weeks old. "She was protecting her baby."

"Oh, it's adorable." Leliana petted it gently. "We aren't going to leave it, are we?"

It started licking his face. Leliana giggled. He sighed. "No, I suppose we aren't."

#

They were only a day out from Redcliffe when Loghain brought Jerath a cup of the tea. "I am... sorry."

"Oh?"

"For Adaia. Please believe that if I had known, I would have seen justice done for her." She'd saved his life. He never even knew she had a son.

"The last two of the guards were at Ostagar. I found one." Jerath smiled at the memory. "The other was in the royal guard. Justice, such as it is, was done."

"I see."

"Made no difference, either way. No matter how many you kill in the name of justice, ashes will not become flesh, and the dead do not return. I could bring down a horde to ravage Denerim, and it would change nothing. Hate is a childish thing, Loghain. We no longer have the luxury of being children."

#

"Are you really going to keep that mangy thing?" Brosca asked.

Brehan raised an eyebrow at him. "We let you keep Zevran."

"Zevran doesn't bite."

"Um..." Lenore started to say.

"And he doesn't have fleas."

"I think it's adorable," Lenore said, reaching over to pat the puppy. "What are you going to call him?" She bounced excitedly. "You could call him dragon."

"No, he's too adorable to be a dragon," Leliana said. "Whiskers."

"You can't call a wolf 'Whiskers'. It's beneath his dignity," Lenore replied.

Brehan just sighed as the two began to run through names.

"Now you've gone and done it, Songbird. They are going to agree on something stupid, and that poor mutt is going to be stuck with it."

"Emma shem..."

"Emma shem'nan, your revenge is swift. And yet, I'm still waiting."