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The closer they got to the base of the creepy tower, the less Varric liked any of this. "The Carta should want gold, not blood," he muttered to Hawke. "This is something different. Wrong."
"Something wrong in Kirkwall? Must be a Tuesday."
"But this isn't Kirkwall. This is … the middle of nowhere."
"Are we guessing this Corypheus is some kind of demon?" Blondie asked.
Sunshine frowned. "Dwarves can't use magic, blood or otherwise. Demons shouldn't be interested in them at all. And what does all this have to do with Father?"
"Do I look like a library?" Hawke snapped. "Stop asking me questions when you know I don't have any answers."
"I guess we only get that answer from Corypheus," Varric said reluctantly.
They were approaching a set of outbuildings now. Hawke's people were all well-trained to strip a room or a body of its valuables quickly and efficiently, and this was no different. Who knew how long they'd be out here. Even stale biscuits had their uses.
Varric held up a piece of parchment. "Hawke, listen to this: 'I was a servant to coin and my own base desires. And that is when I heard his call. Corypheus opened my eyes.'"
"Demon," Blondie said.
"It ends 'When Corypheus steps into the sunlight, we will be rewarded. Praise him! Praise Corypheus!'"
Hawke frowned. "That sounds less like a demon and more like some sort of cult."
They had reached the bottom of the tower now. Hawke paused outside the door. "I suppose if we don't go in, these crazed dwarves keep coming after us."
"That's the usual story."
"Just once, could you try writing something else?" She sighed, and tugged on the door. It opened with a loud creak, and Hawke led the way inside.
Inside, everything was old, but in reasonably good repair. Whoever Corypheus was, he had a decent cleaning service, Varric thought.
Hawke was glad to be inside at last. Sooner in, sooner out. And then they could go home and … do what? Well, she didn't know. But something. Something other than constantly being used as a weapon by one faction or another.
She halted, seeing a dwarf running toward them, full tilt. At the sight of them, he skidded to a stop. His gaze settled on Hawke with an avidity that made her skin crawl.""The Hawke's blood! The Master will rise. He will be free!"
"Gerav?" Varric said softly. There was a gentleness in his voice that Hawke rarely heard. This Gerav meant something to him.
"Varric?" Gerav's eyes cleared momentarily. "No one told me you would be part of this. We were just going after the Hawke."
"Why?" Hawke asked sharply. "What have I done to the Carta? Or Corypheus?"
Gerav looked confused. "I … I can't say. The Master must be free."
"Really, Gerav? I thought better of you than this. I mean, gutting the occasional competitor for fun and profit, that's the game. But what are you all even doing here? Worshipping demons?"
"We drink the darkspawn blood. He calls to us …"
Anders drew in his breath sharply. "Darkspawn blood? Hawke. This is not good."
"Why aren't they dead, if they've been drinking it? Isn't it poison?" Bethany asked.
"Not always," Anders replied.
"It's the only way … to hear the music."
Hawke and Varric exchanged glances. This sounded a little too much like what had happened to Bartrand for Hawke's peace of mind.
"Oh, come on, you nug-licker, snap out of it!" Varric stepped closer to his friend, trying desperately to reach what was left of his mind. "There's no gold in hallucinating."
"Manners, Varric," Hawke said lightly, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Introduce me to your lunatic friend."
"Hawke, Gerav. He's a greedy, brilliant, bastard son-of-a-nug from the Carta. Gerav, Hawke—the one whose blood you want to drink, or bathe in, or whatever."
"The Master is calling," Gerav said, showing no sign that he had heard or understood anything Varric had said beyond the word 'blood'. "He needs the blood."
"Look," Varric said, pulling his crossbow. "I've still got Bianca. Never misfired a day in her life. You don't want her to see her papa like this, do you?"
"Varric, do you want to spare this bastard?" Hawke asked him. This was his call, and she would follow his lead.
He looked up at her, then back at Gerav, and shook his head sharply. "Not if he's after you, Hawke."
And Bianca said goodbye to her papa.
Varric knelt next to Gerav's body. "Poor, stupid bastard. I used to do business with the Carta, back in the day. Gerav was a nutcase then, too, but in a good way. He was trying to design a new type of repeating crossbow. Bianca was the only one that ever worked. I can't believe he ended up like this."
"I'm sorry, Varric."
"Yeah. Me, too." He got to his feet. "Let's get this over with. I want to meet this Corypheus—and so does Bianca." He handed Hawke a piece of parchment he had taken from Gerav's pocket. "Here."
She read it over. "'The Wardens did not guard the key with care. It was left in a repository, with objects of little worth.' 'It will not wake at my touch; it sleeps and its power remains within. The Great One says it requires Malcolm Hawke's blood to awaken it. Only then can its powers set him free.'"
"In the Maker's name, Mina, let's not use our blood to set anyone free!" Bethany said.
"I'm not planning on it. But I do wonder what this has to do with Father. He had no truck with blood magic. 'My magic will serve what is best in me …'"
"'Not what is most base,'" Bethany finished. "I remember. But this key, whatever it is, is tuned to his blood. So … something must have happened with him. Something he never told any of us."
"We'd better get our hands on this key before someone else does," Anders said.
"Sounds like a good idea." Hawke led the way farther in. Varric stayed behind, arranging Gerav's body, and then caught up with her, his face as grim as she had ever seen it.