Chapter Ten: Informant
For those who do not know it, the village of Gethran's Crossing is some thirty or forty miles south of Halamshiral, on the road running from there through the Emprise du Lion all the way to the Greatwood, or the Emerald Graves as it is known to the Dalish. The settlement sits on the western bank of one of the many tributary rivers that eventually join up and flow past the winter capital and into the sea, the river being passable to small ships until just afterwards. I remember being surprised at the wealth of such a small village as we rolled into it in due course. It seemed a positive hive of activity, with wagons and boats bustling about towards a dockyard where the aforementioned cargo ships waited to take minerals and farm produce north to the cities. There seemed no shortage of taverns, what I can only presume were brothels, coopers, blacksmiths, and most crucially, stablemasters. I remarked on this to Julie, asking if all places in Orlais were so obviously prosperous. She snorted with derision.
"This place is rich off the backs of everyone upriver," said Julie, "No tariffs here, so the cost is reduced for the aristos in Halamshiral."
Which would turn out to have fairly devastating consequences for the place, when it remained loyal to Empress Celene during the coming war. However, such things were beyond my knowledge to predict, and at the time, I put down the comment to regional rivalry and jealousy. I couldn't blame her for it, taxes arbitrarily imposed on one part of the country and relieved off of another does tend to create resentment. Particularly if no one who lives in either has a say in setting taxes. It was worse than I thought, the royal court to the north acting like a leech, sucking the lifeblood from the land and gorging on it.
I looked on, observing the bustle until I realised that people were staring at me. My person specifically, not Tam or Armen, whom should have drawn more attention. I quickly understood the reason, and took off my helmet. I looked positively bizarre to a person who had never seen a firelance, bulletproof armour or even desert-pattern camouflage. All things that are known around these parts nowadays of course, but things that would obviously turn heads back then. I hung the helmet off its straps on my hip as I walked, and donned my blue beret once again. People turned their heads away immediately, only the brave continuing to stare.
"What's their problem?" I asked the others, as we came up on the quarter where the stables were.
"They think you're a royal officer, I think," said Armen, not quite sure, "Blue and gold are the royal colours of Orlais, your hat with that golden clasp and your bearing would suggest you are someone of importance." I snorted my amusement at that. First imprisoned as a brigand and a murderer, now people were scattering to avoid me as a noble. I wished they'd make up their minds for a moment, before remembering a detail.
"Wait, I'm not wearing a mask," I said, "Wouldn't they think I'm a commoner?"
"In weather like this?" said Julie with a smile, "Even nobles would take off their masks at this time of the day, or they'd suffocate."
"I don't understand why they wear them to begin with," said Tam.
"That's complicated," replied Julie, "But it's a tradition."
"How do they court each other without knowing what they all look like underneath?" Tam continued.
"They take the masks off in private company," Julie said, "Particularly when they are with friends or noble acquaintances in their own homes. It's only when commoners are around that they keep them on as much as possible."
"Bizarre," I muttered. Tam agreed with a nod, and the others said no more. It wasn't like we could change anyone's mind on the subject anyway. Not yet at least.
We arrived at a likely stable, the largest of the lot on the other side of town. Julie and I agreed that we should be the ones to go in, so the others wandered off with the cart in search of a place to eat and drink. We entered, putting our best buyers' faces on.
There were many stableboys, of varying ages from barely larger than a toddler to early adulthood, but they merged into the woodwork in comparison to the stablemaster himself. He wasn't a particularly large fellow, but he looked like he could benchpress a horse himself. I guessed he got a lot more meat than the others. Probably horsemeat, no less. He had grey hair covering the top of his head thickly, but a thin beard and moustache, the sort you'd get if you hadn't bothered to shave for a month. Aside from that, his clothes looked better than most of the peasants around the place. A busy man, one that liked to bark orders around. I wondered if his throat could withstand much more as I approached with Julie, while the others parked the wagon in a discreet corner elsewhere.
The man eyed over, looking me up and down for a solid minute before speaking.
"Do agents of the crown usually walk about in blistering heat?" he said, making the same mistake as those on the street. Resisting the urge to laugh at that, I kept a straight face and tread carefully.
"A man with no spare horses has no choice," I replied, neither confirming nor denying his notion that I was a noble, "I'm here to buy."
"Well, you're in the right place at least," he said, slapping a resting stablehand on the head lightly to get her moving again, "Might take a while to get the creatures ready, but you'll have them by the end of the day." I frowned at that. Every hour brought royal retribution, or discovery by the Templars, ever closer. Arguing about it didn't seem like it would hurry things along however, so I simply nodded my assent. The man clearly noticed my displeasure, but appreciated my polite reserve and waved us over to a desk.
"What exactly do you need?" he asked, taking his seat and a piece of parchment to hand.
I turned to Julie, having not a single clue about horses to begin with.
"Two packhorses, and a decent saddle for the one we already have," she said, smiling sweetly as she did so. The stablemaster's eyes flickered to me, his manner warming up a little.
"Do you let your servants speak for you?" he asked, leaning back in his seat and smirking. I can still remember the death glare that Julie gave him. Luckily, I was quick enough on the draw that I had exactly the right response, one good enough to stop her returning to the wagon for her axe, to split the man in two.
"She's my mistress," I replied, with an equally cheeky smirk, "I like practical people."
I won points for both lines, I could tell. That's how you play someone. Read them, then attend to their expectations of who you present yourself to be as best you can. Though it is also important not to overplay your hand. The man examined Julie again, who had softened a little thanks to my comment. Evidently I had won points with her too. It was obvious that he wasn't looking at her in a polite manner, and I was about to say something about it when his gaze came back to me.
"I bet you like a full bosom too," he said with no small degree of cynicism, "Practicality is great, but I see you haven't compromised on..."
"I'm standing right here," interrupted Julie, crossing her arms, "Or do you want to continue the discussion?" It wasn't a question.
The stablemaster's eyebrows twitched for a moment. He wasn't used to being talked to like that, I could tell. Not that he had any excuse for such commentary, but I decided to intervene before he lost his head. Literally and figuratively.
"No, I think we're done," I said, before he could sign his own death warrant, "Can you help us, good ser?"
"Yes, I have plenty of packhorses," he said, "Any preference on the saddle? My boy is a tanner, so we get all the leatherwork done here too."
"Something comfortable, but not priced at a rate close to thievery, would be nice," said Julie sternly.
"What, you're working on a budget?" the stablemaster complained to me, "I have to earn a living too, you know?" A transparent attempt to both embarrass me as a supposedly wealthy person and engage my non-existent sense of noblesse oblige. Still, there was no point being a cheapskate either. That tends to get you in trouble, when it matters.
"Like I said, she's a practical person," I replied, "I'll buy your best two packhorses, if that's any help."
The stablemaster mumbled to himself, nodding his agreement. He began writing, laying out the goods and pricing in the letters I couldn't understand. A few minutes of humming to himself, and he held the offer up to me. I passed the parchment to Julie for assessment, horse economics not being my area of expertise. She grimaced, tilting her head to work out the figures, as she likes to do when thinking. When her head raised, she was smiling again.
"And here I thought you were an unreasonable person," Julie said, "This will do perfectly."
"Well, I'm a soft one for a pretty lady," he joked, "Even if they do speak out of turn."
"Good to know," Julie replied flatly.
"Well then, make your mark," the stablemaster said to me, holding up a stylus made from a colourful feather. I raised an eyebrow, considering the possibility of letting Julie do the honours, but quickly understood that it would be bizarre for a noble. It was supposedly my money, after all. I took the ostentatious feather and wrote the name "Napoléon Bonaparte" in a cursive, unreadable way, which was the first Orlesian sounding name that came to mind. The stablemaster held up the paper and blew it to dry the ink, before turning back to me.
"I'm sorry, we did not introduce ourselves," he said, glancing at the signature, "I am Pietre deSelle." I paused for a moment, panicking slightly. It hadn't occurred to me that we hadn't exchanged names. In the end, I just went with the deception that was most convenient. It did not pass without suspicion.
"Napoléon Bonaparte, in the military service of our glorious Empress," I replied. Ingloriously incompetent Empress, is what I should have said. But that would have raised doubts. Undoubtedly.
"Bonaparte... That sounds Antivan, but you look like a Fereldan," the stablemaster said, scratching his head, "How did a Fereldan with an Antivan name become Orlesian nobility?" His questions were getting on my nerves, or rather, my nerves were showing. I opted for intimidation.
"My grandfather married well," I said, leaning over the table towards him, "You are a curious one, aren't you?"
He betrayed no sign of being intimidated except for one thing. His eyes widened to a very notable degree. He regretted the question, clearly, but the ball was in his court. He could attack, call for guards, or give up. Unsure which path he'd take, I stared at him, seeing if he would react further. My hand edged towards the holster of my handcannon, ready to fire if required. Just when I thought he was about to break, Julie cleared her throat to get our attention. Both of us broke off the confrontation.
"Our business is concluded, Monsieur deSelle," she said, "We shall return in a few hours for our property."
"Thank you, madame," he said quickly, taking the out she had given him, "I hope you'll do business with me again in the future." Not damned likely, you nosy jerk.
I stood up again, contract in hand and left the stable yard, Julie in tow. I rolled up the paper, and stuck it in a side pocket of my pack, safe and sound. My companion broke into giggles when we cleared the threshold, to my bewilderment.
"What is so funny?" I asked.
"I'm your mistress now, am I?" she said, taking my arm, "You shall have to dress me in the finest silks. I have expensive tastes." I scoffed at that in jest.
"In the mean time, let's just find Tam and Armen," I said, "It makes me nervous, those two alone."
"On that, we can agree," she said.
We found the Qunari and the mage at an open air tavern by the river, a bar covered with a wooden roof but no walls. It was a humble place, obviously for the dockworkers and coopers when they had finished up work. It was early afternoon, so the place was mostly empty, lunch hour having passed a while ago by that stage. I didn't mind that sort of place at all, except that it might blow my cover as a noble simply by being anywhere near it. Not that I had deliberately set out to pretend to be an aristocrat, but apparently it was the inevitable conclusion. Our two fellow travellers were sat next to a table with a clear view of the wagon, both facing it to make sure no one touched it.
Not that they would have noticed, as they were both knocking wooden jugs and drinking, a plate of hard bread and cheese set down in front of them. I never could figure out what they thought of each other. One moment, they would be eating and drinking merrily together like this, the next they would be squabbling over mage-crap. Julie and myself took our seats, eliciting a shouted greeting.
"Welcome to the party!" declared Armen, "Did you get what we need?"
"We did, and at a good price too," said Julie happily, "What's on the menu today?"
"The bread's a bit tough, but the cheese and ale are both good," Armen replied, "But that's not the best thing about this place."
"Oh, and what is?" I asked.
Right on cue, the waitress approached with another plate of food and two mugs. She was an elf, and a very beautiful one too. Blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, petite, and looking cheerful in her work. Couldn't work out her age exactly, but it had to be only slightly younger than the mage himself. I groaned, as Armen smiled like a buffoon at the girl, taking her hand and thanking her. To my shock, it worked. She seemed as smitten as he was, or was acting like it. Of course, his staff was nowhere to be seen.
"Do you need anything else?" she asked, holding her tray in her arms.
"We're okay for now," Armen said, "When I need something, I'll come find you." I swear to gentle Christ, the man winked at her. The waitress nodded, before turning on the spot to return behind the bar. Armen watched as she left, and I have to admit, what he was staring at was worth a little time. Julie noticed and slapped my shoulder playfully, and I grinned back.
"Good to see you aren't all business," I said, "For a moment there, I thought the cheek was just a cover for your rebel activities."
"He's been like this since we got here," said Tam, holding her cup up to drink, "It's very amusing. Will she run and scream when she finds out you are a mage?"
"She's not going to find out," replied Armen, before drinking his ale deeply.
"Might as well go for it," I said, "We have a couple of hours to kill."
The elf looked thoughtful for a moment, before getting up out of his seat slowly. He straightened his robes, removing a small dagger from a sleeve and placing it down on the table. I looked between the weapon and its owner for a moment, confused.
"You're right," he said, "Templars could come and kill me at any moment. Time to live. I am free now."
I felt like cheering the fellow, as he wandered off to chat with his new-found interest. She brightened up as he approached, and the two sat on high stools to speak. There weren't any other customers, so they had plenty of uninterrupted time. I looked on, and raised my cup in salute. That was the sort of spirit that endeared the man to me greatly. Righteous use of life, that.
"He claimed to be a scholar-confidant of a noble, by the way," Tam said, "To explain the robes."
"Ran into something similar at the stables," I thought aloud, "Is it really that easy to look like a noble?"
"Well, think about it," said Julie, "What's the difference between a noble and a commoner? What they wear and how they act. Your clothes are bizarre, yes, but anyone can tell that they're expensive compared to what a farm labourer wears. And you don't act like a commoner at all. You walk more upright, and you speak more openly without seeming insolent."
"I walk like that because I was trained to," I objected, "I'm not a noble."
"Doesn't matter," said Tam, "These people have never met anyone like you before. They'll make mistakes."
I conceded at that point. It was true. My homeland, where I was born and raised, where I learned everything I know of how to act, was an alien world to these folk. They would find my former countrymen arrogant if not confident, not only because of our achievements but because of our culture. We have known freedom for so long that we cannot imagine life without it. The opposite was true of the people around me that day. They had known nothing but unbending tyranny. I could say nothing, if they thought me a noble for thinking myself free.
At least, for the moment.
We ate and drank in a comfortable silence through the hottest hours of the day, enjoying the rest and watching the activity of the town. It was a soothing thing, pretending not to be a chased fugitive from another world. Armen disappeared into a storeroom with the waitress after an hour, which provided a good laugh for a while. We polished off the food and drink soon afterwards, and lamented our friend's occupation of the server.
Just as I became tempted to go to the storeroom door to get the would-be lovers out of there, as it was nearing the time to go get our new horses, trouble decided to rear its head in a most unexpected way.
A man with a longbow slung across him stopped in front of us. He was neither old nor young, was of average build in every way except that he looked slightly better fed than most. He was clearly a hunter of some kind, as he carried a brace of dead nugs over his shoulder and empty traps were tied to his hip. At first, he walked past us, barely giving us a glance and being so unremarkable that I had barely registered his presence. Until he marched back, head cocked, looking at me like I was a circus attraction. I narrowed my eyes at the man, used by the stares at this point but not willing to be regarded in such a way.
My companions noticed the man quickly, and we all watched in hostile wonderment. He paid the others no mind, his attention locked onto me. It was disturbing to say the least.
"Is there a problem?" asked Julie.
"You..." he said pointing at me, his face displaying shock, "You killed the dragon!"
I realised who he was instantly. My hearing at the grand-parlement mentioned a huntsman, who had witnessed the events of the day from the woods. The man who had fetched Goldie and his lackey bastards. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would meet him. I felt my face curl with anger. I had found the lying rat. I considered shooting him on the spot, as he shook with anxiety or shock, but realised it was a bad idea. It would be too loud and would blow my cover. Besides, I wanted a little chat about a few things.
"You're supposed to be in prison!" the huntsman continued, "How are you here?!"
He stepped back. I could tell he was going to run. I wasn't the only one. All three of us got up slowly, ready to pounce. Unfortunately, he was faster. He started off into a sprint before we could react, the crowd parting neatly as he shouted for them to get out of the way. More fortunately for us, he didn't bother trying to slip down any side streets, instead running in a straight line along the docks. My stomach dropped, as I realised he would bring the garrison down on our heads.
"Tam," I said, calling on the only other person present who could stop him at this range. Quietly, at any rate.
The Qunari quickly snatched up her longbow, and nocked an arrow. It hissed as it left its perch, flying straight through the air at the rat bastard in question. The shot caught him dead on the left part of his back, the black fletch of the shaft sticking out. He spun and fell, revealing that the arrow had gone clean through him, the barbed point protruding from his chest.
The street fell deathly quiet, as all eyes turned to us. I didn't care. I needed to speak to him.
"Royal business!" I roared, pointing at my beret, "Nothing to see here, move along or face severe punishment!"
Eyes promptly averted themselves again quickly, as Tam nocked another arrow and Julie recovered her axe from the wagon. I wasn't surprised that my display had worked, as I was sure that word had gone around that a noble was about, but I was surprised at how quickly things had gone back to normal. The instinct of a commoner in the face of a royal officer, I guess. I bid the two ladies to stay by the wagon, as I jogged to the huntsman.
I found him still alive, though he would not remain so for much longer. I tweaked the arrow a little, and he shouted with pain. Just so we understood where each other stood.
"Why did you lie?" I growled, as some others stopped to stare, "What did you get out of it, you stupid fuck?"
"H-how are you still alive?" he moaned. I kicked him for good measure, and he doubled over with pain, rolling slightly. It revealed his leather bag. I grabbed it quickly, and found what I had suspected. The dragon's teeth, supposedly worth a small fortune, if my captors' speeches were any judgment. He had traded me to Goldie for money, and the noble expected to get favour at court for his trouble. What little iota of mercy I had for the man disappeared in an instant, but my mood improved greatly from having what was taken from me back.
"Well, well, looks like it isn't all bad," I said, menacingly, "Just one thing."
I gripped Tam's arrow and ripped it out of his flesh roughly, making the already devastating wound even worse. I fiddled with the black arrow between my fingers as the huntsman began to weaken. I leaned my full weight on his knee with my boot to get his attention again.
"That was for trying to sell me like cattle," I said, "I hope in the next life, you understand that what goes around comes around."
I stepped off of him and walked back to the wagon, the audience dispersing again and avoiding my glances. My fears of an angry mob or a group of guardsmen showing up had failed to materialise thus far, but I had no intention of sticking around. Both Julie and Tam were clearly ready to leave too, both of them wary of anyone walking nearby.
"Can we get out of here?" asked Julie, "We've drawn too much attention."
"Agreed," I said, "Let's get loverboy out of that room, and go pay the stablemaster."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Another snappy chapter, since it has now been a month since Outlander's first chapter! Thank you to all that have read and reviewed this story.
KiraReaper: The Circle at Halamshiral blew up, so it'll be a while before Templars show up as they have their hands full. However, let me say that I'm very excited about how that inevitable encounter is going to go down. It's going to be fun to write, and hopefully fun to read too.
5 Coloured Walker: Foreshadowing indeed. Appreciate your nitpicks as always. I'm a crap editor.
Judy: I'm going to have to name a character after you at this rate!