"Rage, hunger, sloth, desire, pride: These are the dark parts of the soul that give demons their power, their hooks they use to claw their way into the world of the living. It was demons that whispered into the minds of men, convincing them to turn from the Maker and worship false gods. They seek to possess all life as their due, forging kingdoms of nightmare in the Fade in the hopes of one day storming the walls of Heaven itself.

And the Maker despaired once again, for He had given the power of creation to his new children—and in return they had created sin."

—from The Maker's First Children by Bader, Senior Enchanter of Ostwick, 8:12 Blessed

Chapter 53

Malcolm

Gunnar growled at the crow.

The crow squawked once at the mabari, opened its wings, and then took to the air. It flew a tight circle above Malcolm's head and squawked a couple more times before flying away to the northwest. He watched it go, but felt no compulsion to follow. Then he realized he was an idiot for even considering not trying to just swim straight back to Highever. Morrigan would do what Morrigan would do, and soon enough she would be fairly unable to maintain an itinerant lifestyle. He could look for her then. Besides that, he had other obligations, other responsibilities, other promises that he'd made. He'd left one mostly broken and in a few pieces back in Ferelden, but if he could return in a decent amount of time, it could be fixed.

If Líadan didn't kill him first.

With a sigh, he turned and started walking into the city. He recalled seeing a chantry on their last visit. He certainly remembered the templars glaring at Líadan and Fiona on their way through. Maybe the Chanter's Board would have a simple job that'd pay enough to buy him passage back to Ferelden. He could do that and be on his way possibly by tomorrow. It was early yet. He'd even managed to avoid making a monumentally stupid decision before lunch. Of course, with lunch being some more of the trail rations Astrid had stored in her pack, that meal could end up being a fairly long time away.

As Malcolm strode towards the chantry, the mabari trotting at his side drew a few appreciative looks, and more than a few people crossed to the other side of the street out of fear. Gunnar gave those people his peculiar doggy grin, which only served to scare them more. Malcolm smiled at his dog, amused that grown men and women, armed and armored, were afraid of the mabari. That'd teach them to make fun of Ferelden and its dogs. Other people, ones who weren't enraptured by the mabari, noted the griffon heraldry on his cloak and gave him reserved nods or a curious lifted brow in his direction. The templars standing outside the chantry doors didn't acknowledge him, but he wasn't offended by it.

The Chanter's Board, however, had no jobs that would take less than a week to do. That idea was out, then. He didn't have a week. He needed to be back in Highever three days ago, not sometime in the upcoming fortnight. Stuck in a foreign city without a copper to his name, not knowing anyone... wait. This wasn't the Blight. All the Grey Wardens in Nevarra hadn't died at Ostagar. He almost smacked himself in the forehead for not thinking of it sooner. He could just find the Cumberland Grey Warden compound and get help from them.

He turned to one of the templars and asked him in Orlesian for directions to the Warden compound. The man gave him an odd look and glanced pointedly at the heraldry on his cloak. Malcolm rolled his eyes. "I'm Fereldan. I haven't been to the compound here before. Can you please tell me where it is?"

"Ah, yes, of course," the templar replied in heavily accented Fereldan. And then the man launched into a complicated explanation on how to get to the compound that involved a lot of hand waving in various directions. With the thickness of the man's accent, Malcolm figured it would've been easier to understand the man if he'd stuck to his unaccented Orlesian. It was quite irritating that the templar insisted on using Fereldan, even though Malcolm had asked his original question in acceptable Orlesian. That was, unless Leliana had totally lied to him and his accent actually was horrible. The man had finished his explanation and looked at Malcolm expectantly.

"Um, thank you," Malcolm replied.

The templar nodded and resumed his Chantry duties of dutifully standing around.

Malcolm signaled to Gunnar and headed off in the first direction the templar had told him. It took him well over an hour, judging by the movement of the sun, to finally find the compound. A dwarven woman wearing leathers stood just outside the front doors of the building, speaking quietly with two humans and an elf. All were armed, armored, and wearing Grey Warden tabards. The group turned as one when he approached. To his surprise, he recognized the dwarf. "Hildur?"

She peered at him for a moment, and then her eyes widened in recognition. "Malcolm!" Then she clasps wrists with him before pointedly looking around. "You've got your mabari, I see. Where's your other shadow?"

"I'm sorry?"

Hildur arched an eyebrow. "Your better half?" When he continued to give her a puzzled look, she sighed. "You know, female Dalish elf, tends to be a bit scowly, and is usually right by your side?"

"Ha." He rubbed at the back of his neck, and then looked around to avoid Hildur's discerning gaze. "No, she's still in Ferelden and... probably really pissed at me, now that I think about it." Incredibly pissed. Beyond pissed maybe, possibly into the realm of really upset and extremely hurt, which would be even worse. Far worse. Maker help him, he was totally screwed when he got back. Or not, as it were.

"You left without saying anything? Again? It's this thing you do, I take it?"

"I didn't plan on it." He shifted his feet and finally met the dwarf's gaze. "I didn't have a chance to say anything to anyone. It's been, I think, possibly the strangest few days in my entire life." Strange in that he'd killed another person in cold blood a couple days ago out on the Waking Sea, not to mention the entire experience with the Harrowing when he wasn't a mage, plus there was the dragon. Then again, considering his experiences during the Blight, dragons were more on the normal side of daily existence than murder on the high seas. "For one, I'm not supposed to be in Cumberland. At all. I'm supposed to be in Kal'Hirol right about now, I believe."

Hildur had her mouth halfway open to ask a question, but at the mention of Kal'Hirol, her mouth closed as her eyes squinted. Then she asked, "Kal'Hirol? Why there? Darkspawn or something else?"

"Darkspawn and something else sort of darkspawn related... maybe." His eyes flicked over to the other Wardens standing a little behind Hildur and listening intently.

"We were just about to head out to investigate a report about something you might know a bit about, actually," said Hildur, catching Malcolm's look.

He frowned and almost took a step back. "Morrigan?" She was the only subject he could fathom that Hildur, or anyone, would immediately associate with him.

"No, not her. Talking darkspawn. We got some reports about them and were heading out to take a look. Since you've been dealing with talking darkspawn in Ferelden, you might be of some help."

"Oh, right, the talkative ones. Exciting, really." Malcolm glanced at the road behind him that led to the harbor. "But, I need to get back."

The dwarf motioned for the other three Wardens to start down the street leading to the city gates, as they had been watching Hildur and Malcolm far too closely. "You have time to help with this investigation. It won't take long and Cumberland isn't so far away from Highever by ship. You'll be back before you know it."

He shifted his weight from foot to foot and reluctantly looked back at Hildur. "You don't understand. They don't know I'm gone."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Hildur's mouth. "You're saying they wouldn't notice your absence?"

That hadn't come out right. They must know he was gone; the question was if they knew if he'd gone voluntarily or not. He wasn't quite sure which was worse, because either scenario would cause distress and make people upset. It would also affect whether or not if certain people would try to kill him when he returned. "Oh, I'm sure they've noticed. Líadan is going to kill me. And that's if I'm lucky." She was. There wouldn't be any sort of finishing what they'd started the morning of the Harrowing, because she would be far, far too busy murdering him for leaving. And, he realized, he kind of deserved it.

Hildur laughed. "Come on. We'll be back before sundown."

"I said that once before, you know. It didn't quite work out that way, unless I'd meant I'd be back before sundown two weeks later. Which I hadn't. I had honestly meant to return to the castle before full night, but no. Not so much." He was walking next to Hildur as he talked, already resigned to helping the other Wardens with whatever darkspawn-related task they needed to complete. He couldn't exactly go asking for coin to get home without bothering to help, could he? Well, not if the Order overlooked that whole having helped stop a sodding Blight thing. Which was what they were apparently doing, as evidenced by Hildur ignoring his objections.

His stomach growled. "Andraste's flaming sword," he said, and then sighed. "You don't happen to have any food that you'd be willing to share, do you? And by food I mean emphatically not hardtack or jerky. In fact, cheese would be fantastic. Bread would be absolutely divine."

Hildur snorted, but motioned towards her pack. "There's a chunk of Nevarran cheese and I think half a loaf of day old bread on the top that's leftover from my breakfast, if you want it. Of course, accepting it means you have to come with us and not complain about it."

He happily dug the food out of her pack while they walked. "Fine. And yes, I'm that easy." Gunnar barked in agreement and Malcolm rolled his eyes at the dog. "Just for that, I'm not sharing with you." He ignored the immediate whine and puppy eyes.

"So what brought you to Cumberland?"

"Not so much as a what, but a who. It was Astrid."

"Astrid? As in the missing former Second Warden?" Hildur looked behind them, as if searching for this mysterious woman. "If she brought you here, where is she now?"

Floating somewhere on the Waking Sea, I imagine. "Um... not here?"

"You're a horrible liar."

"I'm not lying, not exactly. More like evading the complete truth. I mean, she's obviously not here. Also not in Cumberland. I don't think." Depends on where her body eventually washes up, he thought. "She could be, but you wouldn't be able to talk to her. Maybe in the Fade. Oh, except you're a dwarf and Oghren told me that you lot don't go to the Fade. So, if you've things to say to her, I think you might be out of luck." He quickly took a large bite of the bread to avoid having to say anything more.

"She's dead, then? If I'm understanding correctly, which I'm fairly certain I am." He nodded as he carefully chewed the bread, and Hildur nodded back. Then she said, "I'm not sure that's necessarily a bad thing. We know where she went. We'd been chasing rumors of Marius in Tevinter until Georg told me to find Astrid. Last we heard were reports from Val Royeaux saying that there was a Grey Warden advising the Divine on a critical situation involving a dangerous maleficar. Of course we assumed it was Astrid, since all other Wardens are not only accounted for, but aren't as briefed on the situation as she was, or the rest of us who are in the know."

Malcolm finished his bite of bread. "Marius is dead. I saw him in the Fade."

The same brief, sorrowful look he'd seen on Astrid's face drifted across Hildur's at hearing the news. Hildur's reaction gave credence to the fact that there had been some sort of human warmth in Astrid. Warmth that he'd killed, quite literally. "That's too bad. He was a good man. A good warrior." The dwarf frowned. "How did you speak to him in the Fade? In a dream?"

"Um, sort of. You see, Astrid not only told the Divine about Morrigan, she also let slip that my mother was a mage. Because the Divine apparently really wanted to talk to me, she decided to declare me an apostate based on just that." Malcolm then explained to Hildur about what happened with the Harrowing, how he'd proven not to be a mage, but how that had come at the cost of Velanna's life. "Anyway," he finished saying, "Astrid assumed that the templars would fail and showed up at Highever. She made sure to find me when I was out wandering alone—"

"Because you have a tendency to do that," Hildur said.

"Hey, that time I'd told people I was heading out. And, for your information, I was searching for a proper place to bury Velanna's ashes. So there. Do you want me to finish my story or not?"

The dwarf turned, narrowed her light eyes at him, and then smirked. "You realize you sounded like your mother right then, don't you?"

"Fine. You know what? Just for that, I'm not telling you the rest of the story no matter how much you need to know. I'll write a letter and send a messenger to Georg and you can find out weeks later from him."

Hildur snorted. "You're only making it worse when you react like that, because that's exactly something she would do. And, you will tell me what happened, because I've noticed you're entirely lacking in a coinpurse, and you need to get home. To do that, you need coin. As it happens, I have the coin you need. Which I will give you, if you go on this little excursion, and tell me what happened with Astrid." The smirk dropped away as her face became serious. "All joking aside, I really do need to know. A Warden's death is fairly significant, as you well know."

Yes, I do know. I really do. "All right. Just..." he trailed off and sighed. "Can I tell you the story later? Once we're back at the compound, I mean. It's one I need to be sitting down to tell, not to mention you might want to sit down to hear." And be unarmed if you want to kill me for killing Astrid. He was fairly certain Hildur wouldn't approve of what he'd done. He certainly didn't.

"That's fine, just so long as you tell me. Besides, there's other gossip you can relay to me now that I have a chance to talk to you."

It was his turn to narrow his eyes at her. "Gossip? What gossip? I don't know any gossip."

"Well, not exactly gossip since it wouldn't be chatted about around boring Weisshaupt—seriously, you've no idea how wonderful it's been to be out of the Anderfels—but it's certainly something I'm curious about."

"Fiona and I are fine. We talked a little. I'm sure we'll talk more, but it's slow going. It's all fraught with all sorts of the scary kind of emotions. Not like abject fear or absolute terror, but the strange vulnerable kind that leaves you wanting to face a horde of darkspawn instead." Though it hadn't been so bad the last time they'd talked. He understood her decision to leave him and Alistair with Maric, even if he still wished that Alistair had had a mother in his life like he had with Eleanor Cousland. But he did recognize that Fiona hadn't abandoned them, not exactly. She'd done her best to make sure they were cared for, and she'd kept up with how they were doing in their lives. Her anger at Arl Eamon had certainly proven that she still cared deeply, however separated she'd been from them for most of their lives. "But we have plenty of time."

Hildur smirked again, but held off her reply since they were exiting the city through one of the four main gates. Guards gave them respectful nods as they went by, eyes automatically catching on their griffon heraldry. The other three Wardens were still walking ahead of them, maintaining a far enough distance to they wouldn't be eavesdropping. Except, Malcolm noticed, perhaps the elf. But the Wardens were immersed in a conversation of their own, so most likely they wouldn't be paying attention. Different from earlier in the city, when they'd been unabashedly listening in. Once they were a decent distance from the gates, Hildur said, "That wasn't what I was talking about."

"Then what were you talking about?"

Ahead of them, the other three Wardens broke off the road and started into the forest. Hildur pointed, and then both she and Malcolm followed, Malcolm ducking under branches while Hildur easily strode under them. "The elf."

"Fiona is an elf. Pointy ears and everything!"

Hildur muttered something under her breath that Malcolm didn't catch. Then she said, "Líadan. You two dive in the dark yet?"

"What?"

"Ride the bucking bronto. Polish the stones. Sauce the nug. Explore your deep roads. Flop the dust. Pass the—"

"No! I don't even... what... no! Maker's breath, you're as bad as Oghren." His cheeks flamed and he refused to look in Hildur's direction. Especially when he heard her start giggling. Were all dwarves this bad? No. He couldn't recall Sigrun being like this.

"Why haven't you? Don't have the stones to say something? Well, she has more stones than you, so I'm more surprised that she hasn't mentioned anything."

"I... No, I don't know what..." he trailed off and stared resolutely forward. "If you must know, we... there was... well, almost."

"Almost?"

He wondered exactly how red his face was now, considering it felt like his cheeks were burning off. "Things were going along well and there no shirts and—why am I even telling you this?—and, well, templars showed up. The end."

"Templars? Oh, this I've got to hear."

Malcolm peered down at her. "You already heard it. That was everything. And it will probably be everything since I'm in Cumberland and didn't tell anyone that I was going and I sort of promised her I wouldn't do that again."

Hildur pursed her lips for a moment as she thought. "Yes. Yes, I have to agree, you're probably in a lot of trouble. I'd even consider recommending that you don't go back, but she'd track you down and it would be worse for you. If you want, once I've heard what happened, I can try to give you better advice." She grinned up at him. "Your face is the best red color ever! I didn't realize you could get a human to flush that deeply."

"You know, I'm starting to suspect that you're related to Oghren. And that wasn't a compliment, either. Just saying."

The dwarf burst into sudden laughter and patted him on the arm. "Now I'm starting to see why Riordan was so insistent about keeping you around. In fact—" She broke off and tilted her head to the side. "Darkspawn."

"Where?" Then he felt the tug as well, to the south. A decent number of darkspawn, possibly with some heavy-hitters, emissaries or maybe ogres. Hildur didn't answer his question, as Malcolm had already drawn his sword and started running towards the darkspawn, Gunnar next to him, and Hildur right behind him with her daggers out. They plunged out of the forest and into a clearing filled with darkspawn. The other Wardens had already engaged one of the three ogres, while some sort of emissary shouted from the middle of the field at the other darkspawn. "Looks like those reports were right," Malcolm said to Hildur, and then he surveyed the clearing again, noticing they weren't the only ones fighting the darkspawn. "What are those? Are those qunari?"

"Yes. Now smite that emissary and let's kill some darkspawn. It's been ages for me!" Hildur then darted into the shadows while Malcolm summoned a smite and knocked the emissary to his back.

As Malcolm waded into the fray, intent on reaching the emissary before it could get back up, he cursed as he realized that he still didn't have a shield. Then he didn't have time for much more than grunts and swears as hurlocks formed between him and the emissary. One of the other Wardens somehow appeared at his side and helped clear the path with him and Gunnar. Together, they reached the emissary as he rose to his feet, using his staff for support. "You! You be the one the Mother spoke of! You know where the witch is!" he said, practically throwing the words at Malcolm.

"Haven't a clue, actually," Malcolm said. Then he swung his sword and cut the emissary's staff in half, sending the darkspawn back to the grass. Malcolm reversed his grip on the sword, drove it into the darkspawn's chest, and then twisted. As he pulled his sword from the emissary, the ground trembled as an ogre lumbered closer. On the far side of the field, two qunari in plate armor shouted war cries in their strange-sounding tongue as an ogre ripped one of their men in half. Another was smashed under the feet of a second ogre when three hurlocks pressed in around him and he couldn't find room to maneuver away.

Malcolm glanced back at the third ogre, where the elven Warden had been taunting it and Hildur had climbed up onto its back. He looked just in time to see the dwarf jam her daggers into either side of the darkspawn's head. "One ogre down," he said to himself. The hurlocks had thinned to a few stragglers, and he was able to see the opposite side of the field even better. A third qunari had fallen, and now only one remained. The ogre swiped at the qunari and the man managed to spear his sword through the ogre's open hand. It grasped its hand in pain and roared before bashing it on a rock. The sword snapped in half and slid out of his palm. The qunari bellowed a cry that sounded almost mournful, and then leapt at the ogre. By that time, Hildur, the elven Warden, and one of the human Wardens had engaged the ogre as well. As the ogre shook the qunari off, sending him sailing into a rock, one Warden cut at the back of the ogre's knee and sent him to the ground. The other jumped on the ogre's back and delivered the killing blow.

Then it was over. Malcolm frowned at the size of the group they'd encountered, as he hadn't come across a party of this size since the blight. Especially not with three ogres and an emissary. Hildur told the Wardens to start rolling the bodies together so they could burn them, and then she walked over to Malcolm. "What'd that emissary have to say? I couldn't hear him from where I was busy killing his overly tall bosom-buddy over there."

"He apparently knew me. Wanted to know where Morrigan was because obviously I have that information and I'm totally holding it back from everyone."

Hildur shot him a mock surprised look. "You mean you aren't?"

"Very funny." He caught movement on the far side of the field near the large boulder. "Is that qunari who got thrown still alive?"

The dwarf squinted in the direction Malcolm was looking. "Possibly. Come on. I've met qunari before. They're actually not so bad. Very stoic, but not that bad once you get used to it."

They found the qunari man kneeling next to the boulder with the two pieces of his sword spread on the ground at his knees. His hands hovered over the pieces of metal, shaking like it was the body of a dead comrade they couldn't bring themselves to touch. Malcolm recognized the body language and the look on the man's face—for some reason, it was like how he'd reacted to Líadan when she'd been injured at Drake's Fall, but for a sword. The qunari murmured what sounded like a chant in his language, and as Malcolm listened, he felt the taint start to spread in the qunari's body. It was small and slow, but there. He glanced over at Hildur, who nodded. She'd sensed the same. Then she looked at the man mourning his sword. "Qunari. I am Hildur of the Grey Wardens. How are you addressed?"

The qunari shifted his gaze from his sword's remains to the Wardens standing over him. "Sten of the Beresaad." Then he glanced at a wound on his right arm, where it looked like an ogre had bitten him. "I am tainted, am I not?"

"Yes," Hildur said.

"Fitting. I have lost my sword. Even without the taint, I am already dead. Were I to return to Seheron, the Antaam would kill me on sight. The taint will take me as the darkspawn took my sword."

Malcolm opened his mouth to ask why losing a sword made the man dead, but Hildur signaled him to silence with an upraised hand.

"You are a warrior, are you not?" the dwarf asked.

"Yes."

"Since when do qunari waste resources? I will make you a Grey Warden and you will survive and fight the darkspawn. It is a worthy cause."

Sten stared at Hildur as the dwarf stared right back. Then he asked, "You are a Grey Warden?"

"Yes, as I said."

"And you are a woman?"

Hildur punched the qunari in the jaw, sending him toppling sideways into the grass. Then she produced a dagger, and with a foot firmly planted on the qunari's chest, touched the tip of the dagger to the man's neck. "I am a warrior. I have bested you and need not prove myself to you again. Do not question what I am." She gave the qunari another shove with her foot for emphasis, and then removed her foot from his chest and sheathed her dagger. "Now. You will come with me and become a Grey Warden because you are a resource not to be wasted, as your Qun says."

Another long moment passed, and then Sten said, "Very well."

The Wardens, with Sten's help, finished piling up the darkspawn bodies and set them to burning after gathering a vial of darkspawn blood. Hildur then led the group back to the city, explaining that they would send other Wardens to check on the burn once they got to the compound. As they walked, Hildur peppered the reticent qunari with question after question about how his party had run across the darkspawn. Then she asked him, "What were you doing in Nevarra, anyway?"

"We were sent by the Arishok into these lands to learn the answer to this question: what is Tevinter looking for? We have not found the answer."

"What made the Arishok ask that question?"

Malcolm raised his eyebrows, impressed at how the dwarf had asked her rather perceptive question. Normally, the qunari were at near-constant war with Tevinter and wouldn't need to know what they were looking for since they were in their faces all the time.

"Their troops on the front have diminished to almost nothing," said the qunari. "They have sent out scouting parties as far south as Ferelden and as far west as the Tirashan. Clearly, they are searching for something important and the qunari people must know what their enemy seeks, for it cannot be good were they to find it."

No, Malcolm thought, no it would not. When Hildur glanced over at Malcolm and exchanged a look with him, Malcolm realized that he already knew the answer: Morrigan. Tevinter was looking for Morrigan like pretty much every other group and nation on Thedas. Hildur shook her head slightly at Malcolm, informing him to keep his mouth shut. Right. Not giving the man the answer before he went through the Joining. Ever the pragmatic Wardens, making sure to secure the qunari's oath of service before giving him news that could allow him to possibly return to his homeland without being killed on sight for losing his sword. Except that he was tainted, so he'd die unless he went through a successful Joining. At least withholding the information would keep him from running off, Malcolm supposed.

The Senior Warden of Cumberland greeted them when they entered the compound and immediately sent out a party of six Wardens to check on the darkspawn burn outside the city. He had one of the compound's servants show Malcolm to a guest room while he and Hildur went off with Sten to the mages and presumably to do the Joining. The servant was kind enough to point out some baths that made use of the dwarven water runes. Malcolm got the hint, as he could tell he was pretty rank after the impromptu shipboard journey followed by a battle with the darkspawn. Then he had to explain that he only had what he was wearing, and the servant made a detour to the quartermaster, who happily outfitted Malcolm with a pack and other necessaries to fill it in exchange for some stories about the Blight. Then the servant showed Malcolm to his room and left him to his own devices. After taking advantage of the baths, Malcolm crashed for a nap on the bed, Gunnar following suit in one of the room's corners. He woke hours later from a knocks on his door and possibly shouting.

Hildur cracked it open and stuck her head inside. "Oh, good, you're awake."

He sighed as he sat up and looked blearily at the dwarf. "You were shouting. Hard to sleep through that. For most people, anyway."

"Well, dinner's up, and after watching you scarf down that bread and cheese earlier, I figured you wouldn't want to miss out. Hurry up before its gone."

Malcolm didn't need to be told twice. He slid off the small bed and, out of habit, put on his armor and sword before leaving with Hildur. "Not taking chances again," he said when she shot him a puzzled look.

She shrugged. "Sten, the qunari, he lived through his Joining. He's asleep right now, so we've probably got a couple hours to chat after dinner. After hearing his news about what the qunari are trying to do, I really need to know what happened with Astrid so I can decide what to do next."

"I understand."

The meal went quickly, Malcolm fending off questions about the Blight and the fight with the Archdemon in favor of stuffing his face. The Nevarran fare was a far sight better than anything he'd eaten on the ship, which had mostly been the hardtack and the jerky, something second-only in nastiness to dwarven ale. Dinner over, he and Hildur adjourned to the Senior Warden's borrowed office so he could tell her what happened without twenty other people interrupting or, Maker forbid, listening. He kept a close eye on where her daggers were sheathed as he explained Astrid finding him in Highever, and then blackmailing him to go see the Divine with her. Then he told her about the storm. "And... she... fell off the ship. Being from the Anderfels, I guess she couldn't swim."

Hildur studied him for a moment. "She fell off?"

Technically. She had a bit of help, but technically she fell. "Yes."

"You remember earlier when I said you were bad at lying?" When he wouldn't meet her eyes for longer than a second, Hildur braced her forearms on her knees and leaned forward. "Malcolm. Tell me what happened."

"She let it slip that she hadn't left anything with the Divine in case something happened with her while she was away. Oh, and that she hadn't even told the Divine where she was going. She was dangerous with the knowledge and agenda she had. If she'd told the Divine about Alistair and I being full brothers, about Fiona being our mother... Ferelden would be in chaos. There'd be another civil war because there's no way the Bannorn would accept the bastard son of an elf—even though his father was the king—as their monarch. Forget being able to finish the Thaw and cleaning up after the darkspawn. There would be too much war going on and the Wardens would most likely be kicked out of the country again. Chased out, actually. Between my duty to the Wardens and my duty to Ferelden, I... the danger became very clear. And how to deal with it became more clear on the deck during the storm when Astrid was seasick and clinging precariously to the railing as the waves got bigger and bigger. I—"

"So she drowned at sea," Hildur said, interrupting him. "Unfortunate accident, I see that now. Georg will be saddened to hear about it."

The dwarf's hands hadn't strayed once towards her daggers. Malcolm finally met her eyes and saw pity and sympathy within them, yet no absolution.