Chapter 5
Having a stone ceiling for a sky was something Alistair would never get used to.
What would happen if there was a quake? Wouldn't the rock just fall apart? The sky would literally fall to the ground then.
The dwarven city of Orzammar was rather unique. Alistair had seen nothing like it before. Everything was stone and steam and more stone. Dwarves, though they didn't have any magical talent, made up for it with their technological savvy. Being resistant to Lyrium, they were the only ones to mine the stuff and trade with the surface. Enchanting, the folding of Lyrium to empower trinkets and toys and weapons and armour, could only be done by dwarves... and the Tranquil.
But with great uniqueness came unique problems as well.
The Deep Roads, which originally connected the various dwarven thaigs, were now infested with Darkspawn, meaning that the Dwarves of Orzammar had to constantly fight off the blighted buggers. Unlike the surfacers, the dwarves had to live with this problem every day.
On top of that, they had been told upon their arrival that the ruler of Orzammar had passed away. The matter of succession had caused a rift in dwarven society, and until a king was selected, Orzammar could not contribute its forces to the cause of the Grey Wardens.
Aedan, Alistair and the rest of their crew had rented rooms at the inn. They could do nothing until the matter of succession was settled... unless they intervened somehow.
And they had agreed to do just that.
So after a day of coercing dwarven nobles and decimating the infamous Carta, Alistair was completely fagged out.
"Leliana, look at this amulet! It's shaped like sword!"
"Oh my! You have good taste, Solona! It's beautiful!"
Alistair groaned and rubbed his face. There is no rest for the weary, it seems.
What had begun as a simple excursion had grown into a shopping frenzy. Leliana had taken Solona under her wing and introduced her to the beautiful and finer things in life. Like satin boots or golden embroidered scissors or whatever it was they were fawning over. Alistair had only wanted to look for golem dolls. Manly ones. Instead, he had brought this down on himself.
After the fight with the Carta, Aedan had sustained a shoulder injury from a mace wielding thug. Wynne had restricted his movement and Morrigan had stayed behind to do... whatever it was Morrigan did. Sten had shut himself up in his room, probably meditating.
So when he had told Leliana that he wanted to take a stroll, she had jumped at the opportunity... and brought Solona along.
He wouldn't lie, he had been looking forward to taking a stroll with Leilana. Alone. Not that he had anything against Solona, no. Maker, she was a radiant young girl. However, there were no campfires in an inn, and thus no guard duty or private talks. And he liked talking to her.
But this isn't so bad, he thought as he trailed after the chatting girls through Dust Town, the poorest of Orzammar's three districts, and home to the casteless among the dwarves. Though Alistair walked around with his hand gripping his sword – after having seen the scum that was the Carta, he didn't particularly feel at home in Dust Town – since many of the residents had been employed by the Carta. The casteless weren't given legitimate work, and thus the Carta was their main source of income. And Alistair had been part of the party that had dismantled said organisation not too long ago.
"I really don't think we should be down here," he began, flexing his shoulders uneasily. "What're you going to shop for here anyways?"
"Oh Alistair, don't worry so much," Leliana assured him with a laugh. "We did a good thing. Bhelen has promised to abolish the caste system, no? These people will find employment elsewhere."
"Yeah, but-"
"And we aren't going to buy anything here. We're just looking," Solona said even as her eyes darted everywhere. "Nothing wrong with that."
"Fine, fine. You win. Be the mean pack of girls you are, ganging up on a poor, defenceless bloke like me," Alistair said with a dramatic sigh. "Oh, woe is me!"
That earned him a good-natured slap on the bicep from the grinning redhead. "You're hopeless."
"Well, I do try," he smirked before calling out to Solona, who walked ahead. "Don't wander off too far! You'll get lost and then I'll have a heart attack and then Aedan will have Morrigan resurrect me and kill me again!"
Chuckling, the girl turned her head and stuck her tongue out at him.
Cheeky bugger.
"Feeling protective, are we?" Leliana asked him, poking his ribs with a finger. Alistair squirmed. "But don't worry. I have my eyes on her."
Nodding, the blond man rubbed the nape of his neck. "You really think bringing in Bhelen is for the best?"
"I think so," she replied after a bit of thought, switching her shopping satchel from one hand to the other. "He has made promises that'll strengthen the dwarves. I don't like him much, personally, but if Harrowmont is given power, he won't change anything. He's too... too..."
"Old-fashioned? Traditional? Kooky? Woozy?"
The bard laughed. "Traditional, yes."
"No surprise there. Have you seen his beard?!"
"What does the beard have to do with anything?"
Alistair raised his brows. "Everything! Beards tell you a lot about the person in question. That kind of decorative, forest-y beard signifies someone who is used to doing things in a very specific way."
"Such a detailed study, that."
"Heh. I had to do something while slacking off on studying while at Bournshire."
Their conversation stilled when they saw Solona waving them over.
Wonder what's there to see in this dump...
"Leliana, Alistair, I want you to meet Zerlinda," the young mage said uncertainly. "Zerlinda has a problem. Tell us, ma'am."
Zerlinda turned out to be a dwarven beggar. She looked young, her features soft, although her eyes were red. Probably from crying, Alistair thought, frowning in sympathy. She was a redhead, her hair swept up in a bun. She sat with her back against a wall on the dirt, a small bundle of cloth on her lap.
"Spare a bit for the needy?" she asked hopelessly. "Please? It's not for me... it's for my child."
Alistair's gaze landed on the bundle of cloth. "That's your child?" he said, somewhat sceptically.
Without a word, Zerlinda held out the bundle, and Alistair's doubts were silenced. Indeed, peeking from the cloth was the sleeping face of an infant. He leaned in for a closer look as Leliana crouched and took the baby into her arms, cradling it protectively.
"He's beautiful," she cooed quietly. Alistair scratched his head and looked back at Zerlinda.
"What's the problem?" he asked, taking care to keep his voice low.
"I need coin," the woman said miserably, keeping a close eye on Leliana and how she handled her baby. "My son... he's sick. He's hasn't had anything to eat all day nor has he any clean clothes to wear... do you have any coin to spare, my lord?"
Alistair shuffled on his feet. My lord was the last thing he wanted to be called.
"She's right, though," Leliana chimed in before he could reply. "The baby is running a fever. Solona, can you do something?"
"But I-"
"I'll hold the baby. You see what you can do," Leliana pleaded her friend. "Please."
The raven haired girl looked conflicted for a few short seconds before her expression steeled and she nodded resolutely.
"Solona is a healer," Alistair explained to Zerlinda who looked on in confusion and amazement as the mage cast a mild spell over the infant, coating the boy in a gentle, blue aura. "She's had fourteen years of practice, don't worry. Your baby is in good hands."
"I-I cannot thank you enough, my lord," Zerlinda said, barely holding back sobs as she threw herself at Alistair's feet. "Thank you! Thank you so, so much!"
"Whoa! Hey now!" the blond man exclaimed in alarm, hurriedly kneeling to gently pry the crying woman from his legs. "You don't have to thank me. I just stood here like an arse. If you have to thank anybody, thank them," he said, jerking his chin towards the two girls before smiling at Zerlinda. "In the meantime, tell me what the problem is. If you stay down here, your child is bound to get sick again. Tell me how you ended up down here. You don't look like you belong in Dust Town, to be honest."
The woman shook her head, wiping away tears. "No, ser. I do not. I was born to a mining caste family. We weren't wealthy, but we never went hungry before. But... then I fell in love. He was so... so exotic. Tough. Didn't bow his head to anybody." She sighed. "But he was also casteless."
It makes sense now.
"In dwarven society, should a castles person have a child of a higher caste, that is, by sleeping with someone of said caste, they can petition for status. The worst thing is I know he was just trying to father a higher caste child, but ours was a son, casteless like his father! My parents disowned me and stripped me of my caste, unless I agree to abandon my son in the Deep Roads and pretend like I never bore him!" Zerlinda continued, her voice rising with each sentence until she raised her clasped her hands tightly in a paroxysm of anguish and helplessness. "But no! I can't bear to even think of it! It's all my fault! Ancestors curse me, but I can't do anything to set it right!"
This, Alistair thought, is true despair.
He had felt it before. Waking up in Flemeth's hut in the Korcari Wilds and being informed that the Grey Wardens had been slaughtered at Ostagar. Loghain's treachery had robbed him of his mentor. Duncan. The only person closest to a father-figure he had ever had.
Alistair knelt before Zerlinda and hugged her loosely, patting the top of her head awkwardly. He saw Leliana offer him a sad smile and he nodded.
It's the least I can do.
Solona had finished with her spell by the time Zerlinda composed herself. She offered Alistair a soft apology and profusely thanked Leliana and Solona when she found that her son's fever had abated. She rocked back and forth, humming to her son.
"What of the father?" Leliana asked cautiously, rubbing her arm. Alistair frowned. He knew the answer all too well.
"Neither hide nor hair of the lout ever since he found he wouldn't rise in the rungs of the caste ladder."
Alistair turned his face away and cursed under his breath.
"Why don't you just take your son to the surface? Away from the machinations of the caste system?" Solona suggested. "Any person who can disown their daughter and grandson can't really be considered a very good influence."
Zerlinda ducked her head. "I have considered that, believe me. But I don't have the funds to support myself and my child. Besides, where would I go?"
Here, Leliana reached out, took the unhappy woman's hand and dropped five silver coins onto her palm.
"Here," she said with a kind smile as she closed the woman's hand over the coins. "Go to the inn. Rent a room. When we leave Orzammar, come with us. I'll make sure to find a place for you in a Chantry."
Alistair had never been more proud of anyone in his life.
So when Zerlinda took their advice and left – after a plethora of emotional thank yous – he let Leliana know.
"That was a good thing you did, Leli. Not many people would. I'm proud of you, you know."
The redhead shrugged, though her cheeks coloured somewhat.
"It's what any decent person would have done," she said as they walked back to the inn, Solona walking a few yards before them, as usual. "I was hoping to buy a nug with the last of my money, but she needed it more."
Alistair halted in his tracks. What. "What? Nugs?"
"What, what?" the girl answered, though she didn't stop to look at him. "They're adorable! They look like pigs and they burrow-"
She then stopped abruptly and cleared her throat. "Let's just go, yes?"
Nugs as pets! Holy Maker!
"Yeah. You go ahead," he told her. "I'm going to see if I can find any golem dolls for sale."
It was only then that Leliana fixed him with a long look. Alistair figured she didn't believe him, but she just nodded.
"I'll see you later for dinner, yes?"
"Definitely."
He waited for her to take a few steps before he spun straight back and started walking back to Dust Town.
The dwarves ate nugs. It was a delicacy around these parts. And dwarves liked to brag. Alistair had heard rumours about how a certain dwarf in Dust Town had the best nugs to offer on the market. Caught them himself.
For a little money, surely he would sell a live nug?
It took a little – a lot of – asking around, but Alistair finally found the dealer in question leant up against a wall. He was a young dwarf, with a tattoo under his right eye. Alistair didn't even have to ask – the dwarf began the conversation himself.
"Looking for nugs, are you? Best roasted treat in Thedas. Plus, Jerren – that's me – has the best nugs in all of Thedas!"
"Yeah, no," Alistair began with an uncertain grin. "I have a different request. I want a live one."
A curious eyebrow rose. "Why? You wanna roast it yourself?"
"Something like that."
"Huh," the dwarf clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "Fancy clothes you have on. Surfacer?"
"Mhmm yeah. I'm a Grey Warden."
"Really?" Eyes wide. "It's an honour for me, then. Tell ya what, I'll even give you a discount. You give me twenty silver and I'll get you the biggest nug I can find in the Deep Stone."
"Nugs live in the Deep Roads?" With Darkspawn?
The dwarf, Jerren, nodded. "The ones down there don't eat as much garbage."
"But don't they get, ya know, tainted?" Alistair asked sceptically, earning a shrug from the dwarf.
"Dunno, man. They always seem healthy. Ya know, shiny coats and bright eyes. Must be something they eat down there."
"Uh-huh. Guessing it'll take you some time, then? You know, the whole going into the Deep Roads all alone for a nug thing you have going on here?"
That earned him a chuckle. "Gimme a week. You can pay me then."
Jerren then stuck out his hand and Ailstair shook it.
"Much respect for you Warden folks," he said with a smile before departing. "See you soon, friend, and try not to fall into the sky!"
The almost-templar rolled his eyes.
Dwarves and their neurotic anxiety about falling into the sky.