Everybody Wants Something…
Part 1 – Oh My (Old) Gods!
"Explain yourself, Morrigan. You come to me with outlandish demands and unbelievable stories, and I'm supposed to blindly trust you again after you deceived us all and betrayed me personally? I think not."
"This betrayal… you're referring to Alistair, I take it?" At my silence, she went on. "What a fool you are! I've told you he only consented to my request to save your life. Does that not prove he loves you? Does it not also prove what I've said all along—that love is weakness?"
"If that's your belief, it is you who are the fool," I retorted. "Not to mention a sorry seductress if you have to drug a man to the point of stupefaction to make him lie with you."
"You know so little of men. They are simple-minded creatures driven by their instinctive need to procreate and to seek sensual pleasure where it can be found. If I'd been of a mind to seduce Alistair, he would not have resisted me. I simply had no interest in him other than completing the ritual with minimal bother."
"Aiden must have been drugged as well if he thought you were worthy of his time."
She ignored my remark, but her eyes flickered with something that could have been pain or anger. Nonetheless, she went on as if her former love's name hadn't been mentioned. "I have a wonder, if you will indulge me. You and I conceived on the same night. That much is obvious. But tell me, Winter, did Alistair come to you after he recovered from the lyrium?" The bitch gave a mocking laugh that got under my skin more than her words. "You heard our conversation—at least part of it. He wanted our little 'misdeed' kept from you, but you knew of it. So do enlighten me; did your warden come crawling to your bed to beg forgiveness, and did you welcome him with the very thing you'd denied him before? It was an unfortunate mistake on your part. Your conception is what caused our present dilemma."
Am I hearing her right? Does she expect me to swap conception stories with her? "I owe you no explanation of my actions."
"Indeed. There is no time for idle talk. I'm here to convince you why you must give me your son."
"Good luck with that."
"Tis not luck. If you wish to see the world continue as it is, you will do as I ask. If not, I will not be responsible for its coming destruction."
I scoffed. "If you had that kind of power, you would have used it before now. You could have killed us. You could have wiped out the darkspawn with a wave of your staff or a haughty blast from your nostrils. You have no more ability than an ordinary mage, so drop the dramatic act and the 'mysterious witch of the wilds' routine. You're not fooling me."
"Your stubbornness does you no credit," she said. "Very well, if you persist in your mistrust, I will tell you everything. Then you will know why the child must be mine, and why Alistair and Aiden were, and are, expendable tools."
The story she told was one for the fairy tale books. She repeated that she was an old god. In the previous blights, four of the seven old gods were killed, absorbed into the body of the Grey Warden that killed them, and their otherwise immortal souls destroyed. The fifth archdemon, Urthemiel, was to have suffered the same fate, but she and Flemeth developed a ritual that would preserve the soul if there were a haven for it—a newly planted human seed, half tainted and half pure. The ritual had to be performed on the eve of battle—the battle in which the archdemon would be slain—and the soul, when it was released from the archdemon, would be drawn to her womb and join with the child. His father's blood would give the child immunity to the taint.
"So what went wrong?" I interrupted her ludicrous yarn. "How did I end up with this soul, as you claim I did? Was it merely because I was closer to the archdemon than you were?"
"Not at all. Urthemiel retained his intelligence before he joined with the child. He specifically chose you to bear his soul."
"I don't quite know how to word this delicately, so I'll say it outright. That's bullshit, Morrigan."
"Tis not surprising that you find it hard to believe. We old gods have been underground for many thousands of years. Flemeth and I escaped only by centuries of planning and preparation. In order to prevent another blight, we must remain hidden from the darkspawn that would turn us into archdemons. If we succumb to their corruption, two more blights remain. In the unlikely event that the races of this world survive the sixth blight, they will not survive the last. It will be a full-scale war that will cover the planet, not just Ferelden or Thedas. It will consume every flesh creature, and the world you know will cease to be. The change that occurs in the seventh blight will be unstoppable and the damage irreversible."
"Well, that's a gloomy tale indeed," I remarked.
"You must take this seriously!" she insisted, slamming her hand on the table in frustration. "You can try to be glib if you wish, but if you don't heed my warning, you doom humanity, as well as elvenkind and dwarvenkind. Do you wish their annihilation when it can be prevented with a simple act of selflessness?"
"The selfless act of giving you my child, you mean?"
"Yes."
"Why? Why is he so important to you?"
"I need him because I cannot defeat Flemeth alone." Her tone bordered on humble, if I wasn't mistaken.
"Don't think for an instant that I would give you my child, but explain to me how he can help you defeat Flemeth. Is this about his immunity to the taint? How will that make a difference?"
The story got more fantastic from this point. She wasn't a mage—not in her true form. She and Flemeth were dragons. (I should have guessed the tale would take this kind of turn.) Ancient dragons, more powerful than high dragons, and immortal. My child would be human, but he would have the power to command dragons. As an added bonus, he would also be immortal.
"He will reach a certain point of maturity, and then he will cease to age as a human does. When that occurs, his powers will rapidly develop to their full strength. He will be, literally, a god among humans. He cannot physically transform his body and fly with the dragons, but he can command them, whether to make them fall out of the sky to their deaths or to bend their will to his own to fight for him.
"Flemeth plans to unleash every dragon on the world at once. Have you not noticed the increased number of dragonlings and drakes, as we found in the ruined temple in the mountains? The high dragon you slew was a breeder, and dragons are being bred for a reason. They are her army. Flemeth will lead them in her true form, as the most powerful dragon and the strongest of the old gods. The dragon you battled at her hut was a weak projection of what she will truly become. Had she revealed her actual strength, the darkspawn would have been alerted to her presence, and she needs a few decades to complete her preparations for war. She doesn't wish to be a tool for the darkspawn, but to eradicate them along with mankind."
"Suppose this were all true," I said. "How is it that the darkspawn don't know that their two old gods have run away from home? Surely they would notice a couple of missing dragons."
She let my sarcasm pass unchallenged. "All dragons possess immortal souls. When one 'dies', its soul returns to the ground for a few centuries, until it forms a new vessel. Old gods likewise, but the Grey Wardens ended our immortality with their knowledge of the taint, and by being willing to sacrifice their lives to absorb our souls. As we speak, the darkspawn are trying to corrupt common dragon souls. Tis fortunate that they are ignorant creatures and cannot discern a simple dragon from an old god. Eventually, though, even they will realize the things they guard aren't old gods. Before they do, we must be ready. That's when Flemeth will deploy her army."
"You intend to fight against Flemeth?"
"I must. I do not want the changes she will bring. Not only so, but it is in her plan that I die in the final battle so that she will be the last of the old gods. There will be none left to challenge her."
"Let me see if I understand the story. You plotted with Flemeth to accompany us Grey Wardens for the sole purpose of conceiving a child of the taint and absorbing an old god's soul."
"Yes."
"Flemeth trusted you to have this unique child and to raise him alone."
"Yes."
"How is this all-knowing, 'most powerful old god' Flemeth so naïve as to trust you?"
"She is far from naïve, but she is mad for power. Her plan was for me and my son to fight at her side to help command the dragons, as they will number in the thousands by that time. When the world is conquered, she and her followers will turn on us."
"An interesting story," I said, signaling that the conversation was over. How much of what she said was true and how much was made-up garbage to try to get me to give her my child, I couldn't say. But I'd had enough of her and her plots, and I wanted her out of my life.
"You have no care that the world is in peril?" she questioned, apparently surprised that I hadn't swallowed her tale like the gullible fool she believed me to be.
"It's not in immediate danger, so get back to me in a couple of decades and I'll give you my final decision. Right now, I want you to leave. I have work to do and you're in my way." I walked to the door and put my hand on the door handle. She stopped me before I could open it.
"One last thing you must know, and this is not for the future but for right now. You must be careful with your life. You cannot allow yourself to come to harm or to die. If you die, the child dies. Leave the wardens. Leave this cursed place, because darkspawn are nearby."
"I am a Grey Warden, if you'll recall. Fighting darkspawn is what I do." I ended with a tone iced with cynicism. "But I'm touched by your concern, Morrigan. I would almost think you were a friend if I didn't already know you're a self-serving bitch."
Again she let my insult pass unanswered. "Beware of the Architect and the mother. They plot your destruction, each in their own way."
Enough already. I turned the door handle and she vanished, her human form replaced by a raven like the one I'd seen on the rooftop. The bird flew out of my suite and through the living quarters until it found a window, then she/it soared out of the keep.
She'd better not drop bird shit on my rugs. The thought made me snicker.
Bryant felt something was wrong. It wasn't quite the same as the time he'd detected dark magic in the commander's suite, but it was similar. It wasn't darkspawn, he knew, because his blood didn't burn in his veins. His templar abilities alerted him with the disquiet he experienced when there was blood magic or demonic activity nearby. Again, it was similar to dark magic, but not exactly like anything he'd sensed before. Whatever was causing the disturbance, it wasn't natural, and it was inside the Vigil.
He walked the length and breadth of the keep, searching for the source of the disruption in the normal spiritual flow. He wondered briefly if the mage had caused a breech in the Veil with his careless pranks and showing off. It was possible, but Anders wasn't that irresponsible. Childish, perhaps, and too focused on himself, but not a danger to others. Bryant dismissed Anders as the cause of the problem and kept concentrating, following the spiritual signature that all creatures of the Fade emitted. As soon as he'd thought it, he knew this being wasn't of the Fade. It was… something else entirely. Something he had never encountered.
He turned down the hall into the living quarters, and was startled with a raven flew above him and out an open window. When it left, the atmosphere cleared and the sensation of a strange presence was gone. Still, he would be remiss in his duties if he didn't check on the commander.
He knocked on her door softly, hoping he wasn't waking her. She'd just arrived from Redcliffe hours earlier and she was probably resting. After the incident at the castle he was ashamed to face her, but if he had to suffer shame, so be it. He deserved it. "Commander," he called out. "Is everything alright?"
She opened the door. "You tell me, Bryant. Is everything alright? Is there a problem in the keep that I should know about?"
"I thought I sensed… No, Commander. There's no problem in the keep that requires your attention."
"Very well," she said. "I'll be out later to discuss our next mission. Have the rest of the wardens assemble in the throne room in an hour." Without waiting for his reply, she closed her door.
Eamon helped himself to another glass of wine. The castle steward informed him that Arl Teagan had just returned (from wherever he'd been keeping himself) and would be in to see him directly.
"Did you tell him I've been here for three days?" Eamon asked crossly. Patience was never his strong suit, and being made to wait unnecessarily was the most irksome offense.
"I did, Regent. He's aware that your grace has been waiting."
"My grace doesn't appreciate being kept waiting," he muttered, taking a sip of wine. In truth, he hadn't confined himself to the castle, like he'd made it sound. He had been to the village, talked with old friends and acquaintances, and even spent some time in Lloyd's tavern. Now that was an interesting visit. The locals were all abuzz about how the arl had thrown four Grey Wardens out of his castle. The wardens had come to the tavern a week ago and Lloyd overheard them talking. Arguing, actually. The gossip was too good to keep to himself, though he knew little details of what had transpired between the arl and the wardens to cause Teagan to send them away.
"My apologies," Teagan said as he entered the sitting room. "I was in Rainesfere. I wish you'd sent word to me that you were here. I would have cut the trip short."
Eamon waved his apology off. "I like what you've done to the castle. Messed up my study and turned it into a blighted parlor, did you?"
"Does that bother you, Brother?" Teagan smiled. "You didn't have to abdicate your post, you know."
"Sometimes I wish I hadn't," Eamon grumbled. Then he quickly added, "I miss the quiet out here. Denerim is too crowded and busy."
Teagan understood. He found Redcliffe too noisy, preferring the serenity of Rainesfere. Small wonder Winter readily agreed with his idea to visit his old bannorn. She settled into his manor like it was her home. Once she ran out of excuses and accepted his proposal, it would be her home. He'd gladly live with her and their child at the estate, and stay at Redcliffe Castle a couple of days a week for work. The nobles' proposal to annex Rainesfere into the arling was tempting.
"What are you smiling about?"
"Hmm? Oh, just happy to see you," Teagan said unconvincingly.
"Fine, be evasive if you like. We'll get back to that later. First I'd like to know why you threw the Grey Wardens out of the castle. You've caused quite a stir in the village."
"Have I? Believe me, they deserved it. They behaved like fools and insulted an honored guest in my home. I had every right to put them out."
"Teagan," Eamon sighed, "it isn't about your personal rights any more. You're an arl, for Andraste's sake. This isn't some sparsely-populated little bannorn where you can get away with any rash decision that suits you."
"Excuse me? Are you trying to say I don't have the right to decide who does and doesn't come into my home? They weren't here on Grey Warden business, Eamon. They were on furlough."
"Nevertheless, the people of Ferelden respect the wardens almost as much as they do the king, and that will be the case for some time to come. They are considered heroes. If they misbehaved because they overindulged in ale while on leave, you could have let them sleep it off…"
"No, you're wrong, Brother. They didn't 'misbehave'; they behaved shamefully and lewdly, and their actions affected someone I hold in the highest esteem. If they'd only insulted me, I wouldn't have given it a second thought. But that wasn't the case."
"Was your offended guest a noble or a person of rank? Someone the king himself would defend in the same situation?" Eamon challenged.
"Absolutely."
"Well, I guess I can smooth it over with King Alistair if word of it reaches him," Eamon conceded. "That's assuming he's in condition to comprehend what's being said."
"Why wouldn't he comprehend… Is the king ill?"
"In a manner of speaking, one could say so," Eamon said. "He's lovesick, of all things, and because the object of his affection doesn't share the sentiment, he's taken to numbing himself with ale, wine, or anything that puts him into a drunken stupor. He refuses to meet with nobles, he won't even read letters from foreign monarchs much less try to improve relations with them, and he stays in his chambers like a hermit. I'm becoming concerned for him as well as for Ferelden."
Teagan was shocked by the news. Alistair was a gregarious man by nature. He couldn't imagine him turning into a drunk and a recluse over a woman. Over anything, for that matter. Teagan had seen him shortly after the massacre at Ostagar, in which Alistair had lost his mentor and best friend, and after Loghain had blamed the wardens for Cailan's death and put a bounty on their heads. Alistair had reacted angrily to Loghain's treason and lies, but he didn't act irrationally.
"You're sure that's what it is?" Teagan asked. Eamon shrugged, at a loss to explain the king's self-destructive behavior otherwise. "How long has he been acting this way?"
"Weeks," Eamon answered. "He was fine one day, then he got a visit from the Commander of the Grey, they had words, and he started drinking right after that."
"Commander of… Do you mean Winter? He's lovesick over Winter?"
"It would seem so."
"I find this hard to believe," Teagan said. "I've seen them together on several occasions. They were guests in my home twice. At no time did either of them act like they were anything more than fellow wardens and friends. Are you quite sure, Eamon? He's in love with Winter?"
Eamon scowled at his brother. "Why is it so hard to believe? She's a lovely girl. Alistair is a handsome young man. They lived and fought together for over thirteen months, and they had to have developed something a bit more than a fellow-warden relationship."
Teagan countered, "She also lived and fought with her other companions for the same length of time. Alistair had other females in his party. Is it logical to assume that just because they were both wardens, they naturally had to have had a romantic relationship? Aiden was there from the start. She could as easily have developed feelings for him, but she didn't."
"And just how do you know what she feels and whom she prefers, First Warden Guerrin?" Eamon demanded in a mocking tone.
"I know precisely whom she prefers. She prefers me, Eamon. I love her, and if it is within my power, I will have her as my wife."
Eamon sat silently staring in disbelief at his brother. The full impact of Teagan's words struck him at last, and he said, "Teagan, has it been so long that you have forgotten what I went through with Isolde? Trust me, I do understand how a man can be seduced by a beautiful face and the touch of youthful skin. The feeling is as addictive as lyrium, and far more intoxicating. But it's just as dangerous—"
"Would you compare Winter to Isolde? They are nothing alike! Isolde was a serpent from the start. She used you to escape Orlais, and she wanted your land and wealth…"
"And for what purpose is Winter using you, Brother? How are the two women so different? Isolde was also beautiful, young, exotic, interesting, adventurous in her own way…"
"What do you propose, Eamon? That I ignore my heart and tell Winter to ignore hers? Shall I tell her that the king desires her, and she must bow to his whim?"
"Of course not. That's not what I meant. I merely believe you are… beguiled by her youth. And maybe Winter is enamored more with the idea of an older man than with the man himself. If I may be blunt, perhaps it's not your heart you should consult."
"I… I can't believe…" Teagan sputtered, outraged at his brother's implication that he was no different from a rutting stag.
"Don't be angry with me, Teagan," Eamon urged. "I shouldn't have said that. Understand that I'm looking out for your best interests. You are my only family, and I don't want this quarrel to come between us. Nor do I want your feelings for that girl to come between us. If you were to turn away from her, she might find her way back to Alistair…"
"Find her way back? You are convinced she has romantic feelings for Alistair, and I can assure you she does not. 'That girl', as you insist on referring to her, loves me as I love her."
"Mark my words, Teagan. She will tire of you. She should be with a man her own age—"
"Winter is carrying my baby."
"Please tell me you're having me on," Eamon said, barely able to get the words past his throat. Teagan glared at him defiantly without answering. "Well congratulations, Arl Teagan! You have done a fine job of taking a bad situation and making it multiple times worse! What am I supposed to tell the king when I get back to Denerim?"
"I don't care what you tell him, but my personal life is none of his concern. I respect him as my king. He has my loyalty and my sword if need be, but I'll be damned if he will have my woman."
"Teagan…" Eamon began. Alistair's drunken ramble came back to him. He forgot about the king and his emotional problems. His only worry was for his brother. "The girl… Winter… she's tainted. The child she's carrying is tainted. Darkspawn taint."
Teagan was aware of many who had fallen victim to the taint during the blight. Their deaths were protracted and horrible. Winter showed no sign of the taint, and she'd fought darkspawn for a year. She killed the archdemon with a melee weapon, for Andraste's sake! She'd come off that rooftop bathed in its blood. If she were tainted, it would have been evident by now. More accurately, she would have died of the taint.
"Winter is fine. She's healthy. If she were tainted, the healer would have told us so."
"That healer is one of her wardens now. He's tainted too."
"What are you going on about?"
Eamon didn't dare explain further. The king had let Grey Warden secrets slip out when he was drunk. It would be a severe breech of trust for Eamon to repeat what he'd heard. He'd already gone too far. "Nothing. I just assumed, since they fight darkspawn, that they must all be tainted."
"You worry too much. Don't you have enough to handle with the king? Must you try to take on my problems too? I'm well able to take care of myself, as I've done for the past twenty years."
Eamon relented. He had taken the conversation as far as he could. Teagan was approaching his forty-first year. He wasn't a child to be reprimanded for choosing wrong friends. He knew what he was doing, and evidently, what he wanted and whom he wanted. It was regrettable that the king was in love with the same girl, but what could be done about it?
The regent rose to leave. "I'd better head back to Denerim and make sure Alistair hasn't drowned himself in ale. I'll see myself out."
"What? You're leaving now? Eamon, I apologize that our discussion got so heated. For my part, I won't say I was wrong, but my presentation was harsh."
"That's not why I'm going," Eamon smiled. "I've been gone for a week already. I should be there…"
"Tomorrow is soon enough," Teagan insisted. "Stay, and let's have a proper visit before you return to the palace."
"That sounds good to me," Eamon said.
Part 2 – Wayward Wardens
The wardens were gathered in the throne room as I'd requested. I could hear the murmur of voices from the hallway. When I opened the door and entered the room, everyone went silent.
I left the incident at Redcliffe for last. "Have any of you heard reference to someone known as 'the Architect'?" None of them had. "We need to confirm or disprove that such a person exists. I've received information, but no solid lead and no location. Inquire of every hunter, farmer, and traveler you encounter in the arling.
"We're going to Amaranthine. Residents of the city say darkspawn have been sighted outside the walls and the constable is asking for our help. Once we've dealt with that issue, we will split off into two teams. One will further investigate the area to the west where Mhairi's scouts located the darkspawn nest. Those of you not on that team will be with me, and we're going to the Wending Wood. The only place we didn't fully explore was the silverite mine. I plan to go through every tunnel and try to find the source of these talking darkspawn.
"Finally, I want to remind you of how we wardens should conduct ourselves in public. While I encourage good relationships and fun, let's keep the banter quiet. Secondly, save any disputes among yourselves for your down time here at the keep, not in public. If we can't be trusted not to fight against each other, we won't be trusted to protect the population. Thirdly, don't let our order become a joke to the people of Ferelden. We are the subject of ridicule in Redcliffe. I pray the king doesn't hear of it. This cannot happen…"
"Aw, get over it already, Commander. It was a great prank." Oghren had been a member of the warrior caste in Orzammar, but he didn't have a clue how to be a soldier.
"Shut it, dwarf," Aiden snarled at him.
"Show some respect," Bryant added.
"For Andraste's sake, you drunken lout," Anders put in. "Drop it."
"All of you are a disgrace to the order," Mhairi sniffed.
"Can we please get to work?" Nathaniel said. "I'm sick of hearing about Redcliffe."
"Hey, I like it when a woman is vocal. Shows I'm getting the job done," Oghren leered. His gravelly voice made his comments sound even more licentious than they were. "That old Teagan must have some moves, eh Commander?"
Aiden took a step toward him but Byrant was closer to Oghren. He had to aim low, but he punched the disgusting little bastard squarely in his dirty mouth. Oghren went flying back, hitting the bookshelf and scattering volumes around the floor.
"Enough!" I shouted. "You are all confined to the keep. I'm going to Amaranthine alone. When the rest of you grow up and want to be Grey Wardens, talk to the seneschal. If he decides you're ready, he'll let me know. Dismissed." I stalked out of the throne room, angry and frustrated with the childishness of these men. It was too bad that Sigrun and Justice, who hadn't participated in the argument, had to suffer along with the guilty ones, but that was a warrior's lot. They would have to learn to stand together. If they didn't, every one of them was destined to fall in battle.
Captain Garavel caught up to me outside. "Commander, if you please," he said. "The seneschal sent me after you. Allow me to go with you to Amaranthine. The king doesn't want any of us to travel outside the walls of the Vigil on our own."
"Come along," I answered, glad for his company. I didn't want to travel alone with the threat of darkspawn about. If I found them around Amaranthine, I might not be able to take them on by myself. Even with Garavel's help and the assistance of the Amaranthine guard, it could be risky. We would have to assess the situation when we got to the city.
Varel thought he'd seen this bunch at their lowest when the four returned from Redcliffe without the commander and told of their shameful antics, but he was wrong. They'd reached a new level of stupidity. Why the commander tolerated the dwarf's insubordination was beyond him, but Varel wasn't having any more of it. He sent the captain after the warden-commander, then he had Oghren thrown in the dungeon, where he would stay until the commander returned. With the main instigator out of the way, he hoped the others would put their petty differences aside.
"I'd like you wardens to remain in the living quarters for the time being," Varel said. "If you're needed, you will be summoned."
"You're confining us to quarters?" Anders aksed. "That's not fair! It was the dwarf's fault."
"I'm confining you to the wing, not to your rooms," Varel clarified.
"You can't do that," Nathaniel protested.
"I can, and I have done that. When the commander is away from the Vigil, the seneschal is in charge. You're aware of this. Now please, all of you, get out of my sight."
Varel had served in the army his entire adult life—more than thirty-five years. He'd fought in King Maric's army against the Orlesians, in King Cailan's army against the darkspawn (though not at Ostagar), and been instrumental in the underground uprising against Rendon Howe's decree that the people of the arling surrender their properties and swear fealty to Loghain. He'd fought alongside, and against, thousands of soldiers during his long career. But he had never witnessed anything like the undisciplined behavior of these wardens.
If these people are Ferelden's last line of defense, Maker help us all.
Bryant cradled his right hand. He'd put all his strength into that punch. A normal man would have been knocked unconscious at best, suffered a broken jaw and a lot of missing teeth at worst. The dwarf evidently had a jawbone of iron. With his skull, he had a matching set.
"Looks like a couple of broken knuckles there, Bryant," Aiden remarked. "Good job."
Anders could have healed him easily but he wasn't going to volunteer. Bryant was an alright guy as templars go, but he was still a templar, and Anders despised the lot of them.
"I knew that dwarf would be trouble from the moment we found him in the basement," Mhairi said. "He has the manners of a swine… and that's an insult to the swine."
Nathaniel said, "Nobody likes him. But let's be honest, Mhairi. When you heard what they'd done to the commander, you laughed along with the rest of us. It wasn't a kind thing to do, but you said yourself that she overreacted."
"Until I learned she was with child, yes, I thought she overreacted. But when I heard she was pregnant… Maker, I felt so badly for her. You men can't understand what a woman goes through during that time."
"Other than growing an immense belly?" Anders proffered. "And getting weepy, grouchy, bloated, and gassy? A blessed event, they call it. I'll bet their men suffer more than they do."
Mhairi glared at him but kept silent. She'd lost two babies, both stillborn. Her husband left her after the second child died, saying he didn't want a wife who couldn't bear him a son. She wasn't the type to share her personal life with anyone, but after the Redcliffe incident, she guarded her private matters more closely. These fellows couldn't be trusted except on the battlefield.
Sigrun said, "Oghren is coarse, but he's not so different from half the men in Orzammar. I don't approve of his behavior most of the time, but he's not a bad fellow once you get to know him."
Nathaniel answered, "You only say that because he's your lover, Sigrun. Maybe you were raised around men like him and maybe you find crudeness alluring, but to the rest of us, he's disgusting. I don't find it at all surprising that his wife and his girlfriend left him. What I do find surprising is that he can attract women in the first place."
Rather than take offense, Sigrun laughed off his remark. She hadn't had much experience with humans and she was aware that they saw things differently from dwarves. The seneschal may have been unfair when he put Oghren in the dungeon, but it wasn't her place to question him. Unlike Oghren, Sigrun understood authority and duty. Oghren was of a wilder nature, and that was part of his appeal.
"Grey Wardens are highly respected by my brothers in the Legion," she said, not responding to Nathaniel's comments. "I must say, having lived among you for a while, that I'm glad I chose not to join your order."
"Right, because becoming a broodmother is a far more exciting fate," Anders said. "That is what happens to dwarf women who are captured by darkspawn, isn't it?"
"Either that, or we're used for food," Sigrun replied. Her offhand remark gave Anders a shudder.
"I do not understand your world," Justice finally spoke up. "We are part of one unit, a fellowship of warriors against a common foe, are we not? Yet you fight each other with the same ferocity that you attack mortal enemies. How can unity and strife coexist? One will eventually overcome the other. From what I've seen, you will give in to strife."
The rest of the group was silenced by his observation. He was right; they'd been wasting so much time arguing with each other that they'd lost sight of the true enemies.
"I just realized," Aiden said, "that we might have inadvertently put the commander's life in danger. You know what I'm talking about, Mhairi. I saw your scouting report. The arling has pockets of darkspawn cropping up everywhere. We let her go out there alone—or practically alone, with only Garavel to help her. He's an able fighter but he's not a warden. What if she decides to go explore that silverite mine? What if that mine is full of more darkspawn than the two of them can handle? We're stuck here, unable to help, all because that… that… sickening excuse for a dwarf couldn't keep his twisted thoughts to himself and his big mouth shut." He'd worked himself into a rage. "If she comes to harm or, Maker forbid, if she dies out there, I swear I'll kill Oghren."
Another hush fell on the room. Nobody had considered the possible repercussions of their earlier squabbling. It seemed like a little unrest, caused more by boredom than animosity. Now, Aiden's words gave it an ominous slant.
"Why is everyone so glum?" Sigrun asked with childlike innocence. "To give one's life in battle is the most glorious achievement a warrior can attain."
"Only if you're already dead inside," Bryant answered her.
Garavel and I met no darkspawn on the way to Amaranthine. Outside the city's high stone walls, though, there were signs of darkspawn presence. Slain cattle, half-eaten animals, carelessly discarded weapons and the like. The city's poor, housed in shacks and tents outside the walls, told us of a talking darkspawn that led a small band of the monsters on repeated attacks. They didn't kill any of the people, which was most peculiar.
"Darkspawn attack humans on sight, no matter who they are," I said to Garavel. "They are drawn to Grey Wardens first, but then they'll kill anyone else, whether it be a soldier or a small child. What is going on with this band? If their leader could speak, why didn't it try to communicate with the constable or the head guard… or anyone?"
Constable Aidan greeted us at the city gates. "Thank the Maker you've come, Commander. The people are frightened out of their wits. I've taken to bringing those squatters inside the city at night, but the nobles protest so vehemently that I have to put them back out in the morning, and I fear they are in terrible danger. I don't want to have their blood on my hands because of a handful of wealthy snobs."
"Normally, the 'squatters' wouldn't have survived the first attack," I said. "Something strange is going on. This isn't typical darkspawn behavior. I don't know what to make of it, but I intend—"
"Commander, look!" the constable exclaimed, pointing toward the shacks.
I turned around to see a darkspawn, dressed in what looked to be costly, hooded leather armor—highly unusual for these beasts. The creature was alone. It approached slowly, holding its hands up in a gesture of surrender. Its gait was uncertain, not clumsy like the average darkspawn. It looked as if it had recently learned to walk. Then, to our shock, it spoke.
"Be not killing," it said. I wasn't sure if it meant for us not to kill it, or that it didn't plan to try to kill us. "This one is come for to speak to Commander."
The constable's guard stood with his bow drawn and an arrow poised to slay the creature. I put a hand out toward the guard. "Hold your fire," I ordered. "Let's see what this is about."
Garavel protested. "Commander, this is the same kind of monster that attacked the Vigil and slew your fellow wardens. They were within a moment of cutting Varel's throat. Should we allow this thing to live?"
"Until I know its intent and what it has to say, I'll let it live. If it makes a move or says a single word I don't like, I'll have the guard put that arrow through its heart." He gave an uneasy assent. I called to the creature, "I'm the Commander. What do you want of me?"
"The Architect is having a want to meet the Commander. He is meaning no harm."
"Why didn't this Architect come here himself?" I asked. "These attacks outside the city are your doing, are they not? To get my attention?"
"This one must be bringing you here. He be not killing your kind."
"Where is this Architect, creature?"
"This one am bringing Commander to him."
Garavel protested more strenuously. "Commander, surely this is a trick. You don't seriously wish to follow this monster, do you?"
"I have to find the Architect, Garavel. This might be the only way to learn his location." Even as I said the words, Morrigan's warning rang in my ears.
"Beware of the Architect…"
Garavel and I followed the creature to the Wending Woods, and as I expected, into the silverite mine. That was the Architect's lair. When I was there before, the mine didn't appear to be a likely place for a hideout. We had peeked inside and saw a rickety set of stairs leading down to a lower level, but beyond that, the only tunnel in sight was blocked with boulders.
Now the tunnel was clear, and we passed through it into a holding area complete with barred cells. Garavel kept his hand on his sword. I wished mine weren't on my back even though they were within easy reach. I would have preferred, right now, to have them in my hands.
"They're not locking us up," the captain muttered. "I'll go down fighting, but I won't be a prisoner of these creatures."
Our guide turned at Garavel's comment. "The Architect be meaning no harm to the Commander. You with Commander. You be coming also to no harm." He went back to his task of leading us through winding tunnels, doorways that opened to what looked like an office or study and a room for… experiments, perhaps? The table with the restraints at each end looked sinister, as did the bloodstains on the table and on the floor beside it.
"Someone came to harm here," I pointed out. "Captain, I'm starting to think this Architect's pet is lying to us."
"I've thought that from the beginning," the captain answered grimly.
The creature grew more excited as we neared another set of doors. "It is being this way. The Architect is being waiting for Commander."
This one is being annoyed with this farce. This Architect is up to no good, and I wish I'd held my temper back at the Vigil and brought a couple of wardens along.
The doors opened at our approach. Behind them was a tall, thin man in fancy mage's robes. His back was to us. When he turned, his face was partially covered by a mask. His hands were oddly formed, too large for his body, with unnaturally long fingers and webbed skin between them. At the fingertips were long, pointed nails. I could imagine him slashing out at us with those hands, tearing our throats open before we could draw a blade in defense.
"Welcome, Commander," the being spoke. His tone was calm and the quality of his voice rather pleasant. "I regret that I had to take such measures to bring you here. I cannot easily leave the confines of my home."
"Can't imagine why," I mumbled, looking around at the room. The Architect was flanked by two women. One was a dwarf, the other an elf. Both had mottled faces—a sign of the same type of corruption that we'd seen in Hespith in the broodmother's lair.
He floated toward me. Yes, floated. The being didn't walk, and I couldn't tell whether or not he had legs under his robes. Nothing about him made me curious enough to take a look. He stopped when he was a couple of feet from me. "You are correct about my companions," he said.
He can read minds as well as fly. That must come in handy.
"They bear the marks of the taint, but it was not forced upon them. Each willingly accepted it, and they serve me because they choose to. You see, they believe in my work, and my goals have become important to them."
"What are those goals?"
"To evolve my race into the kind of creature I've become. Intelligent, non-aggressive creatures. But to do so, I require something your kind is not willing to give us."
"And what is that? Our lives?"
"No, Commander. Your blood."
"We're unwilling to part with our blood? And you're confused by this?"
"Not in the least. But for centuries, wardens have taken our blood and used it to transform yourselves into our mortal enemies with a power that enabled you to find and destroy us. We, on the other hand, need your blood—warden blood—to become as you are. We seek not a war with you, but a way to live at peace with you."
"I don't think that's possible," I said. "It is your kind that has caused five blights, the fourth of which lasted for a century, nearly destroying mankind. You will continue to seek out the souls of the old gods, as you're doing even now, and when your corruption reaches one, another blight will begin."
"A lamentable truth," he admitted. "We do seek the souls of the old gods. They rightfully belong to us, and to all the creatures of the underground."
"Nonsense. If you have evolved to this point, you are able to understand that coexistence isn't possible as long as you continue to follow your old ways. I see no evidence that you want to change or plan to change."
"That is true. We are compelled by the need to seek out the old gods. It is not something I can change, or would want to change were it within my power to do so."
"Why have you brought me down here, Architect? To drain my blood and make more of your talking darkspawn?"
"I would have taken only some of your blood, Commander, and then let you go free. But I sense what you carry inside you. You possess that which my kind wants most. Urthemiel, thought to have been slain. But he yet lives, by some power beyond the scope of even my understanding. He is the one that can free us, but his soul must be released from the flesh that holds him. So you see, I cannot allow you to leave here alive."