Chapter Four: Andaran Atish'an
I didn't see too much of Cassandra for the next week or two after that. She and Leliana spent most of that time holed up in the Chantry, and sometimes the sky looked positively dark with letter-carrying crows. Cassandra took immediate charge of the refugees and volunteers who began to stream in, organizing them by trade or profession, setting up a militia, and putting together the infrastructure that would ensure Haven's inhabitants would be well fed and well defended while the Inquisition got on its feet. With the mark sufficiently calmed (although still very much present), and regular meals, and a roof over my head, those weeks were some of the easiest of my life. In retrospect, I'm very glad I had this time, as my life was about to get more complicated than I could ever have anticipated.
I spent most of my time with Varric. The dwarves I ran with back in Denerim all had a wicked sense of humor, and Varric was no different. He told me stories of his time in Kirkwall, and how the Mage Rebellion got started (although I didn't ask how much of his part in the story was true, and how much was added in for narrative's sake). His stories of the Merchants' Guild were some of the best. Sure, there were politics in the alienage and the Chantry, especially an important one like Denerim's. But these dwarves were out for blood, often literally. Double-crossing was a capital offense, and also most surface dwarves' stock-in-trade. He didn't know much about the Carta in Ferelden, but from what he described of its work in the Free Marches, there was no way that Tegrin and Gorim weren't involved in all that. I wasn't about to tell him of my connection to the illicit lyrium industry, but he seemed to be the type of fellow who could figure something like that out, anyway.
As the shems got used to having The Herald of Andraste roaming the streets, the gasps of surprise and the spontaneous genuflecting began to happen less and less often. But they, along with Cassandra and Leliana, began to call me "Your Worship," which was both amusing and disconcerting. But still, I ate it up, nodding my head sagely in their direction, just like I'd seen the Grand Cleric do when she walked around the Market Square. The other elves and I would have a laugh about that in private. In public they maintained the same deference around me, but occasionally I'd wink or stick my tongue out at them while doing the sagely nodding thing.
The service-oriented Shems were a mixed bag. The quartermaster started on this tangent about how she thought the Traitor Loghain was the best commander of troops ever to grace Thedas. Now, I generally don't have any opinion whatsoever on Shemlen politics, but that man tried to have Kallian killed more than once. When I explained this to Threnn, she backed off a little, muttering something about "when needs must." Harritt, the smith, was positively cordial. He'd already had a stout leather duster, some gloves, and a decent pair of boots waiting for me. He took my measurements as well, and said he'd be happy to bang out some real armor, if they were able to get decent ore. Contrast that with Seggrit, who'd set up a weapons shop by the gates. He was surly, overpriced, and asked me if I could talk to some of "my kind" about being a bit more handy getting him his supplies. His position wasn't going to last long, if I had anything to say about it, and I was starting to believe I might.
The best-run setup in the whole town, however, was the tavern. Flissa, the tavern keeper and barmaid, was beside herself the first time I stopped by. "You're her!" she gushed. "You're the Herald of Andraste, come to save us all!" I tried not to laugh out loud, but she must have seen the amusement on my face. She never skimped on the pours, either with the ale or the whiskey, and her conversational skills were excellent. Plus, I'm certain she was giving me the "potential savior of the world discount."
The tavern's main attraction; however, was the bard who'd set up shop there. Maryden. She was skilled with the lute and had a voice that would put a nightingale to shame (no offence meant to Sister Leliana, of course). As lovely as her voice was, she was just as easy on the eyes. Flissa had probably caught me staring one too many times, because she took an entire evening to discuss the boyfriend Maryden lost during the blight, and the men who wound up falling in love with Maryden the Minstrel, rather than Ms. Halewell. I was disappointed, but I did take the hint. Didn't mean I spent any less time watching her sing.
My mini vacation ended much too abruptly one morning, when Melora was sent to let me know that Cassandra needed me in the Chantry. I wasn't sure why; Maker knows I'd only get in the way in their planning efforts, but if they needed me, I supposed I'd better show up.
"You seem to be adjusting to Haven quite well," Cassandra said, meeting me at the Chantry doors.
"I suppose people will be friendly if they think you've been sent to save them all," I replied. "Except Seggrit, of course."
"He has been selling his wares at that very location for nearly ten years," Cassandra said. "Removing him now would be a cruelty. Although he has been made quite aware that his treatment of elves will be monitored closely."
"That was – you didn't have to do that," I stammered.
"It was not done for you specifically, Your Worship. Not that I wouldn't have, it's just – I mean,"
"It's fine, Cassandra. I just hope someone put the fear of the Maker into him."
"Once we reminded him that Andraste's own Herald is elven, and that every blade he sold was pressed into Our Lady's service, I think he began to see reason."
I had a good chuckle at that before the mark gave me a little reminder that it was still around.
"I had hoped that with the breach sealed, the mark on your hand would have stabilized," Cassandra said, steadying me by my arm.
"For the most part, it has," I replied. "If you remember, I could barely stand when it flared up like that. This was the first time in days it's come by to say hello. And it's barely a twinge compared to how it was."
"I am glad to hear it. We still believe that this mark is our best chance at closing the breach. Solas is of the opinion that by pouring enough energy through it – as much magical power as caused the breach in the first place – we should be able to seal it."
"If it's all the same to you, Cassandra, I'd rather sit that one out. Couldn't you guys just cut my arm off at the elbow and throw it at the sky?" Cassandra stopped in her tracks and looked at me darkly.
"Demons continue to pour out of rifts caused by this breach, terrorizing all of southern Thedas. I'm certain we will find the humor in that suggestion once this is no longer the case."
Chastened, I followed her through the Chantry nave and back toward the room where Cassandra and Leliana had dispatched Chancellor Roderick two weeks prior.
Elves are a pretty people, all things considered. Our bodies are lithe and graceful, our figures tend to run slim, because we usually don't have enough to eat, we work too hard to put on much weight, and our facial features are, well, there's a reason half the workers in the Pearl are elves. I was used to being around pretty. Humans generally aren't pretty. Humans are brutish, big, clumsy, and manage to run themselves either into or over just about everything they come near. So, when all of a sudden, I was in a room with three of simply the prettiest humans I had ever seen, I was a little taken aback. Leliana I had met before, and there's no doubt why Kallian would have fallen arse over tits for her. Even this new, broody Leliana was still a looker – perhaps more so. Commander Cullen was a deadly concoction of a body that seemed to have been crafted specifically to wear armor, eyes that cried out "this man has seen some shit," and just an absolutely amazing head of blonde hair. And Ambassador Josephine looked as if she didn't so much walk from place to place but rather floated on a pillow of lilac-perfumed air, all the while being attended to by four hummingbirds, two of which did nothing but keep that spectacularly crafted bun at the back of her head in perfect arrangement at all times.
Cullen introduced himself by lamenting the size of his army, which, in retrospect, could have been rather funny. Josephine, on the other hand, made an immediate impression with her linguistic skills.
"Andaran atish'an," she said, looking supremely proud that she'd managed to pronounce the Elvish correctly.
"Ma serannas," I replied, and she looked as pleased as punch. But when I continued with "Ir abelas, ar tel'dirth Elvhen," her face fell.
"It's okay," I said, chuckling. "I simply apologized for not being able to speak Elvish." This got Leliana snickering, and I think I saw a smirk on Cullen's face, as well.
"But I do appreciate the effort."
That seemed to ameliorate Josephine's mood, as she flashed me a grateful smile. "You are very kind, Mistress Ghilani."
"Yes, well," Cassandra said, hoping to move the meeting along. "I believe we had been discussing Solas's idea that we pour more power through the mark on the Herald's hand."
"Wait," I interrupted. "You are actually going along with this 'Herald of Andraste' nonsense? All of you?"
"What the people crave more than ever right now is hope," Josephine replied. "If you can be a symbol of that hope, then those people will look to the Inquisition for help and guidance."
"I get that. But do you actually believe I was sent by Andraste Herself?'
There was a moment of silence, as the four of them looked at each other, hoping someone would answer first. Cassandra finally did.
"As I told you before, you were – and are – exactly what we need when we need it. Whether you were sent by Our Lady Redeemer is a question Chantry scholars will answer at another time. But I fervently hope that She would send us someone in this time of chaos. And I choose to believe that that someone is you."
"Do you all agree with her?" I asked.
Again, silence, but this time they were looking at me almost apologetically.
"Right. Just so we're clear, I think you're all out of your minds. But I'll go along with it, if for no other reason than having a bunch of shems call me 'Your Worship' is hysterical. Now, I believe we were discussing how to get more power through this thing on my hand. And with the mages and the Templars pretty much focused on nothing else than killing each other, that's going to be difficult."
"That is where you come in, Your Worship," Josephine replied. "You are better suited than anyone to recruit hearts and minds to our cause. Be a presence in Ferelden. Show that the Inquisition – and the Herald of Andraste – are the people's best hope of coming out of the chaos that surrounds them."
"To that end," continued Leliana, "we have arranged a meeting with a Chantry mother who has been attending to the needs of war refugees in the Hinterlands, just south of Redcliffe. Her support will be influential in expanding our reach beyond Haven."
"I thought we weren't exactly on the Chantry's good side," I replied. "Why would this mother help us?"
"More than that," Josephine said. "The Chantry has declared you a heretic, all talk of your station as Herald of Andraste blasphemy, and officially denounced the Inquisition for harboring you."
"Well, I guess if Roderick couldn't chain me up and bring me back to Val Royeaux, he was still going to find a way to make my life difficult."
"Quite." Cassandra said. "This is why I will be accompanying you to the Hinterlands. I suggest Solas comes along with us as well, in case we run into more fade rifts."
"Well, if he's coming," I replied, "then I'm definitely going to need Varric along with us. Solas with nothing counteracting all that seriousness might just have us die of boredom, rather than a Templar's sword."
"If you must," Cassandra grunted. "When would you like to leave?"
"I said I would join your Inquisition if you brought my parents up here. We'll leave a couple of days after they arrive."
