Goodness Spent
Chapter Four: The Gilded Gelding
"That self-centered, tunnel-visioned, crass, stubborn dwarven arse!" Lysandra cursed, loud enough to echo off the white and grey stone of Hightown, astonishing some of the passersby enough to pause in their travels and tut at the harsh language. Scrambling to keep up with her sister's long-strided pace, Bethany trailed behind her.
"Sister, I know you are upset, but let's not draw any further unwanted attention to ourselves!" she spoke softly but fiercely. "You're certain to get the guards involved if you keep yelling like that!"
"I don't give a flying pigeon-crapping fuck what the guards might do because of my yelling!" Lysandra lifted her clenched fists as though preparing to brawl the first person she came across, her face lined with fury. "Let them come and arrest me! I'll get a good night's sleep in my own damn cot and a free meal!"
Bethany paled, halting in her steps, before closing the distance between them to grab her sister's shoulder. "You can't mean that!" she pleaded. "You know what would happen if the guards arrest us- you might get a 'cozy' jail cell for the night, but it'll take them all of two seconds to figure out what I am and-" she stopped herself, terrified.
At this, Lysandra stopped, facing her sister and letting the anger drain from her expression. Without the energy of her rage, exhaustion deepened the lines of her face, aged her more than her twenty-five years. "I would never let them get you, Sunshine. I promise. Besides," amusement glittered in her eyes, "I'm sure we can get Aveline to take care of us if it ever came to that."
"I don't think she has the authority to override the templars, Sister," she sighed, pressing her hand to her face. "There's only so much reach that a city guard has in this city, and I'm pretty sure she's already expended it covering for our less than legal activities as it is!"
"Pfft!" Having no legitimate response to her sister's practical, logical response, Lysandra resorted to snorting and rolling her eyes. She stretched her elbows to the sky, resting her hands on the back of her neck in thought, before an idea struck her hard enough to drop them again. "Hey! I mentioned it before, but maybe she could put a good word for us in with the guard! Or at least, me," she added tersely, grinning.
"You, Lyssie?" Bethany stared in shock, her mouth hanging open. A giggle burst from her before she could smother it. "Not this again! I mean... in the guard? Protecting people? Obeying the law? Enforcing it, even?"
Lysandra pouted. "Why not? I've learned enough about what's illegal in Kirkwall over the year, I've got pretty good insight into the seedy underbelly of the city, I'm certainly capable enou- okay, stop laughing at me!"
Bethany tried to stop, but even as her fingers covered her mouth, her eyes shone with mirth. "I'm so sorry, Sister, but trying to picture you in that armor, standing up straight, taking orders, and not smart-mouthing whomever your superior was... I can't stop giggling!"
"You're such a brat!" A gentle swat to Bethany's shoulder only made it worse, and before Lysandra could put on her Big Sister Frowny Face, she began laughing alongside her, wrapping her arm around her waist. "I guess you learned it from me, so I can't really complain."
Bethany grinned. "So what are we going to do? We need something."
"Well, a legitimate, steady income isn't quite viable for either of us, and I'm not letting you sell yourself to the Blooming Rose, so- Hey!" Her hand slapped to her hip, where her slim and scarcely full money purse was tied- or had been, until a faint brush alerted her to its sudden absence. She spotted a thin, red-headed young man bolting around the corner towards the Chantry.
"Oh no you don't!" Lysandra growled, and broke into a sprint that, had Bethany not been watching her, she could have blinked and seen her disappear. Her dagger sprung from the thong tying it to her forearm into her hand, the steel glinting in her hardened gaze.
Just as she closed the distance between herself and her target to only a few yards, she let a crooked grin split her face, and she drew her dagger back to throw- aimed squarely between his shoulderblades. Instead, however, a loud kerchunk! and mechanical grinding interrupted her, and a thick arrow pinned the lad's shoulder to the wall behind him. She slowed her pursuit, staring at the dwarf cocking his crossbow in barely concealed disappointment.
"I knew a guy once who could take every coin out of your pockets just by smiling at you. But you?" He advanced on the young thief, who struggled to unpin himself to no avail. "You don't have the style to work Hightown, much less the Merchant's Guild."
He held out his gloved hand to the kid, who reluctantly dropped the purse into the dwarf's waiting palm. Giving the purse a slight toss to test the weight, the dwarf smirked. "Might want to find yourself a new line of work."
Before the lad could speak up in his defense or protest, the dwarf casually punched his jaw, then yanked the arrow from his shoulder in a rough movement that made Bethany- who'd just now caught up with her sister- cringe. He turned his back on the man as he slumped to the ground, dismissing him with a patronizing, "Off you go," before turning his attention on his audience.
He smiled, strutting towards the dark-haired women with as much swagger as could be mustered by his short frame, and tossed the pouch to Lysandra. As she caught it, he spun the arrow he'd collected in his fingers, and greeted her, "How do you do? Varric Tethras, at your service!"
Lysandra's eyes narrowed on the dwarf; something was oddly familiar about him, though she knew she'd never laid eyes on him before. Of course! The last name! Her fingers clenched around her dagger.
"I apologize for Bartrand. He wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw-"
"Thank you for collecting my purse for me," she growled. "But I think I've had enough of the Tethras family for one lifetime, and I'm enough of a cocky little shit that I don't need you adding to the pile."
He held up both hands in defense, eyebrows raised. "Hey, I'm sorry if I stole your fun just now, but please, don't place me in the same category as my brother. I assure you, I'm here to make you an offer, one I think you'll want to take."
"What do you mean by that?" Lysandra asked suspiciously, tying her purse back where it belonged- and double-knotting it, this time.
"I mean that I think you'll want to hear me out. See, what my brother doesn't know is, we need someone like you for our expedition. He wouldn't admit it, of course- he's much too proud- but I can see things he can't." His smirk twisted his face.
"And what, praytell, do you see in two nobodies from Lowtown?" Lysandra flipped her dagger in her hand, watching the dwarf curiously now.
"On the contrary, the two of you have made quite the name for yourselves over the last year," he chuckled. "Everyone knows Athenril's gang would never have thrived without your help. I suspect that she's already written a letter to you pleading with you not to leave."
Lysandra scowled. "I suppose that if you know that much, you know about my sister as well."
"A little, yes. And no worries," he winked, "I have no plans on alerting any templars. That wouldn't be conducive to our partnership, after all."
"Damn straight," Lysandra warned. "But let's hear more about this deal you're proposing. How could you convince that stubborn old mule to let us come on this expedition?" She cocked an eyebrow. "Or is that even what you're suggesting?"
"Actually, the last thing our expedition needs is another hireling. No, what we need is a partner!" His brown eyes lit with excitement. "The truth is, Bartrand's been tearing his beard out trying to figure out a way to fund this expedition, but he can't do it.
"Invest in the expedition. Fifty sovereigns, and he can't refuse. Not with me there to vouch for you," he added confidently.
"There's a little problem with your master plan, Tethras," Lysandra purred coolly. "If I had fifty sovereigns to invest in this expedition, I wouldn't need to go on this expedition in the first place!"
"You're thinking too small!" He insisted, spreading his arms as though to indicate the scale of things. "After this expedition, fifty sovereigns will look like pittance compared to the fortune that awaits us. You'll be looking at enough money to set you up for life, and half again!"
"I think you're missing an essential element here, Tethras- we do not have the money!"She swept her arm in exasperation. "I would love to be the gallant hero riding in on the golden horse that is Funding Partner, but sadly, I'm missing the fucking gilded gelding!"
"You can easily pick that up working small jobs, and I can even help you find the right ones to help you save up faster," he brushed away her concerns with a wave of his hand. "Save every copper, make them stretch, and do what you do best, Hawke, and I promise you you'll have fifty sovereigns in no time. But if you agree to work with us, I'll make sure you're set up right there with the nobility, turning your pinkie out while sipping fancy tea."
"That is an appealing image," Lysandra agreed, visualizing showing the nobility a thing or two about how Hawkes do 'wealthy'. But then, she paused, and glared at the dwarf. "I'm curious, though. Athenril made sure our names were left out of any accounts that might finger us directly. How in the Void did you manage to know who we were?"
"I'd like to know that, too!" Bethany added, anxiety wrinkling her brow. "If this information is widely available, it could be passed on to the ones who would really not like someone like me running around!"
Varric grinned, and finally put his arrow back in the quiver at his back. "That, my dear lady, is a secret. I'm afraid I can't give that one away, not even to a business partner. But let's just say I'm very good at putting my ear to the ground and listening to the whispers that float around."
"You must be, being so close to it!" Lysandra grinned.
"A height joke! I've never heard one of those before!" He looked to the sky, as though to draw patience from it. "But what do you say, Hawke? Are you in?"
"Hmmm," she hummed to herself, eyeballing the dwarf as though appraising, indeed, a horse made of gold- just to see if it wasn't, in fact, painted. Among her many talents, one thing she prided herself in was her ability to pull information even from the silence of those around her. This dwarf watched her expectantly, but not desperately. He knew he had options elsewhere, but was extending this offer to her. There was a sharp intelligence, and more presently, a deep cunning, shining in his eyes. Without much shock, she noted that he was appraising her just as closely; not with as much interest, of course, as he'd already learned a great deal, but seeing the woman in person for himself was different. He was handsome, she noticed without meaning to, young enough to have passion but old enough to know better. He bore no beard, a stereotype that Lysandra had seen fulfilled by most of his kind on the surface and had thus begin to suspect was warranted, though he wore a chest-baring tunic that revealed a rather stunning reddish-blond curly coat of his natural hair. A smirk curled one side of her mouth; the dwarf needed no beard to prove his masculinity, at least.
"Eyes up here, Fereldan," he pointed to his face with a faintly teasing grin. "We can't be business partners with you lusting over my chest, after all."
"I was wondering if you were hiding an animal you're smothering in your tunic, that's all," she shot back, crossing her arms. "I tend to prefer my men a little taller, anyway. With blue eyes."
"Glad to hear I don't have to worry about another admirer, then!" He returned, before holding out his hand to her. "So. Partners?"
A smile slowly made its way across her face, and after exchanging a look with her sister, Lysandra took the dwarf's hand in hers, shaking firmly. "If you can make good on your promise to help us find the right work, then I'd be happy to get in on the ground floor of this."
"Fantastic!" He enthused sincerely.
"But uh, just so we're clear." She twisted her grip until she latched around his wrist, and yanked him closer to glare at him directly in his face. "No Blooming Rose jobs."
After the shock at being caught offguard wore off, Varric cackled at this unsettling, unpredictable woman. "No Blooming Rose jobs," he agreed.