Goodness Spent
Chapter Six: Ruffling Feathers

"Ugh, I hate the stink of this place," Lysandra muttered, her nose wrinkling as the lift descended towards Darktown. "It's the kind of smell that gets stuck in your nose for hours after you leave, and then sinks into your clothes. Eugh. I hope this doesn't take too long."

"Well, assuming that it's not too difficult to find this mysterious 'lit lantern', and that this guy doesn't give us a hard time, I don't imagine it will, Hawke," Varric shrugged. "Believe me, I'm not keen on lingering here any longer than necessary."

The lift, cranking and groaning and complaining as it made its way into the seedy underbelly of the city , finally opened up to the area known as Darktown. Lysandra had spent more than enough time down here to get a distinct distaste for the blighted place- and blighted was right. Too many of the refugees from Ferelden had brought with them the Blight Sickness, a fact that had driven so many of them underground and into the sewers. As loathe as Lysandra was to admit it, she hoped that those still struggling with the illness would die off quickly, to avoid the spread of the illness to other parts of the city.

Fortunately, this also meant she knew her way around, and if there was someone else who had set up shop here, he would stick out like a sore thumb. Especially if, as according to both Varric and Lirene, the man was a Grey Warden. Every account she'd heard of that fabled order had left her with the impression that something about the Wardens made them seem a little different. Besides, few people down here bothered to actually light lanterns; darkness had become a way of life for them.

"So, in, get the maps, and out again," she ordered. "No loitering, no stooping to help the sick, no pitying glances and sad puppy eyes and going 'but Sisteeeer!' either."

Bethany pouted at that. "Oh hush. As if I could convince you to do anything but what you wanted!"

"You do, all the time. Father let you get away with murder, too," Lysandra pointed out with a smirk.

"I hardly think wanting to help those not as fortunate as we are is the same as getting away with murder!" Bethany protested.

"You would think that!"

If either sibling had more to say on the subject, they were cut off by the sudden jerky stop of the lift settling abruptly onto Darktown soil. Flipping a copper to the man running the lift as a tip (and insurance he wouldn't be grumpy with them later), Lysandra strolled out into the open, followed closely by her two companions. Bethany held her sleeve over her nose and mouth, while Varric sighed and shook his head.

"Let's get moving," Lysandra suggested to them briskly, eager to get started on their task. She scanned the area for any signs of something... different. Something that had changed since she'd been here last. Something that might tip her off as to what direction to head in.

"Instead of wandering blindly, maybe one of the locals has an idea of where we could look," Varric suggested at Lysandra's confusion. "Given the reputation of this clinic, I'm sure they'd know of it down here."

"Right." Lysandra strode up to a young man gingerly rubbing his arm with some sort of salve. "Hey, you!"

The man started, nearly dropping the jar to spill on the ground. "Wh-what?"

Cheerfully helping the lad to his feet by his collar, Lysandra smiled sweetly at him. "That looks like some nice stuff for a nasty-looking rash there. Where'd you get it?"

Given a closer look at her, the man blinked rapidly, before shaking his head. "Woah, yeah. Uh, I got it from the healers, you know?"

"Have we met?" Lysandra asked, tilting her head curiously. "You looked like you recognized me just then."

"Healers? As in, plural?" Bethany added in question.

"Huh? No, I don't think so," the man chuckled. "You just looked a lot like someone... kinda funny, given what we're talking about. And yes, healers. There are two of 'em, hanging out in that clinic of theirs."

"Varric, you know anything about there being a second Grey Warden wandering about?" Lysandra glanced to the dwarf expectantly.

He shook his head, frowning. "No, no other Grey Wardens, though there have been rumors about there being a girl associated with him. I hadn't considered she might also be helping him with his little setup down here."

"So where are they?" She turned her attention back on the lad, her hand still gripping his collar. "I'm looking for them."

"You're not going to hurt them, are you?" the man asked, suspicion creeping into his expression. "Because if you are, I ain't talking."

"Hurt them? By the Maker, why would I hurt them?" Lysandra asked, bewildered. "I just want to talk to the Warden, take some maps from him, maybe pinch his butt if he's cute. If he's hurt by that, then there are bigger issues than what I want to do with them."

The man laughed. "Well, in that case, go right ahead. He looks miserable enough as it is, and I think he's dragging the girl down with him. The clinic is thattaway," he pointed through the chaotic tangle of streets and alleys.

"Thank you!" Lysandra replied with every ounce of saccharine in her, before letting go of his collar and watching him topple back to the ground. She rounded on her companions. "So, now we know a little more about what we're getting into. We have to keep an eye out for this second mage. Sunshine, if you don't mind keeping ready in case she tries something with us..."

"I understand, Sister, but I don't think it will come to that," Bethany said softly. "Look at how he speaks of her. I don't think she's the sort to spring an attack on us."

"You'd be surprised what people can do when they're desperate or startled," Lysandra muttered. "Just watch for it, alright?"

"...Okay."

The three of them made their way through the darkened, shadowed streets of Darktown, stepping carefully and giving the residents a wide berth to avoid conflicts as best they could. As nicely dressed and clean as they were, they stood out sharply from the refugees left down here. Bethany watched them all pass with saddened eyes, knowing that but for a year of indentured service to a smuggler, she and her sister would have been among them.

Finally, Lysandra pointed out the very sign they'd been directed to since Lirene's shop- a lantern lit above a pair of doorways. Outside of the small group of people that had gathered outside of the doors, there was nothing else remarkable about the place. Several of them nursed injuries, others were smiling to themselves, but they regarded the newcomers with suspicion. A few even moved as though to block the doors from them. Lysandra waved to them, friendly and upbeat.

"Well, Hi there! Is this where I can find the healer?" She asked brightly.

"Depends on who's askin'," one replied, glowering.

"Oh, I'm a refugee, just like you guys! Ferelden born and raised. I even have my own Mabari! Though... he's at home right now..." Lysandra giggled sheepishly. "But see, my sister here, she's got an awful cough-"

"I do?" Bethany started to ask, before being elbowed hard in the ribs. "Ow! I-I mean... ahem..." she feigned a few weak coughs.

"See?" Lysandra folded her arms. "I know you guys want to protect him, but I really need to get her treated right away. Are you going to stop us?"

"No, but you keep this in mind," the refugee replied, leaning over her. "We watch out for our own. And the healers have done a lot for us."

"No worries, my good man!" She clapped him on the back, grinning. "And thank you for watching out for everyone's best interests."

Without any ceremony, Lysandra opened the door to the clinic, keeping a close watch on the room for any signs of suspicious magical activity. Rolling her eyes, Bethany gave her sister a shove forward, nudging her in amusement as she came to stand beside her. As the two moved inward, followed closely by the dwarf that would be partner, they watched the healer at work; a young man, maybe only a bit older than Lysandra herself, stood over a young boy, working his healing magic. The boy certainly didn't look good- passed out, or worse, and blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Knowing this to be a sign of an internal injury, Lysandra frowned. Could he be healed of this?

The healer, blond wisps of hair falling over his eyes, looked worse for wear himself. Dark markings under his eyes, a pale complexion and a faint tremble in his movements. He had to be working himself to exhaustion, and even now, he faltered. Suddenly, he closed his eyes, and a new surge of power poured from his hands, pulling the injury out of the boy and raising him to consciousness again. The boy convulsed, gasped, breathed deeply, and stirred from his place on the cot.

Just as the grateful mother embraced her darling boy, he turned away to gather his strength again. He was hunched, Lysandra saw as she approached, and barely holding himself upright. Indeed, as though sensing his momentary weakness, a woman emerged from the back room and hurried to his side. While the healer's back was now to Lysandra, the girl's worried expression was clear even from where Lysandra was standing. Her words were undoubtedly soothing as she put both hands on the healer's shoulders.

Something struck her about the girl's appearance. She'd never laid eyes on the small woman before, Lysandra knew that, but a chord of familiarity strummed in the back of her mind and she couldn't put the thought away entirely. Still, her focus was the healer, and she was definitely not keen on pondering the identity of this girl at the expense of getting out of this wretched pit faster. So, after gesturing to both Varric and Bethany to keep back- just in case things went sour- she stepped closer.

The man's back straightened to rigidity, the sudden motion startling the girl. He grabbed his staff and rounded on Lysandra, staff raised and his hand outstretched, and demanded, "I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation! Why do you threaten it?"

Lysandra immediately threw up both hands defensively, her eyes widening. "Woah, buddy, I'm not here to threaten anything! I just walked in. Unless you greet all your patients this way, in which case I doubt the 'sanctum' feel you're going for."

Sensing an opportunity to help ease the tension, Varric butted in. "We're interested in getting into the Deep Roads. Rumor has it that you were a Warden. Do you know a way?"

The man hesitated, watching both Lysandra and Varric with deep suspicion, before letting his staff tip to the ground. "And who told you that?"

"Little birds of rumor flitting about Lowtown. You've earned quite a reputation among the refugees, and naturally, they've been curious about you enough to gossip like old wives," Lysandra shrugged, smirking. "Are you? A Grey Warden, I mean. You certainly don't look like one. Though," she added as an afterthought, "I suppose I don't know what a Grey Warden is supposed to look like... so maybe you look exactly like one."

Confusion dotted the man's expression, and the girl with him laid her hand on his arm as she addressed Lysandra. "I'm guessing that means you haven't had contact with the local chapter of Wardens, then? So you're not, say, sent by them, looking for Anders?"

Lysandra glanced between both of them, a grin curling her lips. "Are they looking for you? My, aren't you popular!" She shrugged. "But no, we weren't sent by anyone but opportunistic greed and ambition. And because, like Varric here said, we thought you might be able to help us find a way into the Deep Roads."

"Why in all of the Maker's Creation would you want to go down there?" Anders asked, his face tightening in disgust. "It's old, infested with darkspawn, and just absolutely coated with taint."

"Heavy risk," Lysandra grinned, "But the prize..."

Unimpressed, Anders shook his head. "You're mad. I wouldn't send my enemies down there."

"No one has ever accused me of sanity, this is true, but allow me to elucidate for you," she replied caustically. "See, we're planning on an expedition into the Deep Roads, to a very old thaig that hasn't been touched by anything but darkspawn for centuries. Problem is, we need to find a way into the Deep Roads before we can start looking for this long lost thaig, and we're a bit stumped on that front. We were hoping you might be a bit more helpful and less 'I'm going to accuse you of being crazy'- like I've never heard that before."

"So, are you a Grey Warden?" Bethany piped up in the wake of Lysandra's sarcasm. "I don't mean to pry, but it helps us to know if we're even on the right track."

Anders set his staff against the cot and folded his arms, thinking over his response. "Yes, I am. Or at least, I was. I'm afraid that I've since parted ways with that fine order, however, and I haven't kept contact with them." A dark smile twisted into place. "It wasn't a pleasant parting. The Grey Wardens aren't very well disposed to someone leaving the order."

"I thought the rule was, once a Grey Warden, always a Grey Warden?" Lysandra asked.

"That's only partly true." He smirked. "The 'hopelessly tainted by the darkspawn' and 'plagued by nightmares about the Archdemon' parts don't go away. But it turns out if you hide well, you don't have to wear the uniform or go to the parties."

Lysandra bit her lower lip teasingly, grinning. "I like that 'hopelessly tainted' bit. But perhaps that's just because of where my brain goes when a handsome guy like you says 'tainted'."

"Sister, please!" Bethany begged, her face staining with red.

His eyes widened, eyebrows shooting upwards at her words. Despite himself, he chuckled and shook his head. "Did you come here about the Deep Roads, or to flirt with me?"

"I can't do both?" She pouted. "I could always continue making comments about exploring your Deep Roads and being tainted by you, even while discussing formal business matters."

Varric put his palm over his face, massaging his forehead as though pained. "Not the way I would conduct business..."

"With all due respect," the woman at his side spoke coldly, firmly, "Perhaps you ought to stick with conducting yourself professionally. You are asking him for a favor, after all."

"You're no fun," Lysandra sniffed. "Fine. Do you know a way we can get into the Deep Roads, Ser Ex-Warden?"

He considered her request, exchanging a glance with the woman at his side. He shook his head and glowered at Lysandra. "I will die a happy man if I never have to think about those blighted Deep Roads again. You have no idea what I've been through getting away from all that. I'm not interested in..." he paused thoughtfully, then continued in a softer voice. "Although... a favor for a favor..."

"Anders, no." The woman paled at his shift in tone. "You can't be thinking...?"

"Why not?" he asked of her, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, Evelyn, but we could use all the help we can get."

"Yes, but..." she looked back to Lysandra, who was now regarding her with an arched eyebrow of her own. "This is an exceedingly delicate matter. Besides, if they come along, we might be endangering her as well!" She pointed to Bethany, who jolted in shock.

"Me?" she squeaked. "Why would I be in danger? What are you-" She cut herself off, frowning. "How could you tell?"

At this, Evelyn smiled sadly at Bethany. "I can sense it in you. The magic. It runs in my veins, too."

Lysandra scowled. "This favor... does it involve templars?"

Anders shook his head. "It shouldn't. In fact, it should be a very simple... but I'd rather not say more unless you're willing to strike the deal with us."

She looked back to her companions, asking silently for their thoughts. Bethany shook her head slightly, anxiety rippling over her expression. The potential involvement of templars threw her off considerably. Varric, on the other hand, nodded his assent. They needed a way into the Deep Roads, and this was their best shot. Lysandra looked back to the pair of mages, tapping her finger over her lips. "You know, even without the business end of this, I'd probably end up helping you. I like you; you give me a good feeling- in more ways than one," she winked at this. "But I don't think you're the sort who endangers people recklessly- that's my job- and you seem like a good man."

Surprised at this assessment, Anders glanced away, not certain how to respond. She continued, "Besides, if it involves sticking it to the templars, I'm all for it. If you can give us a safe, expedited way into the Deep Roads, then you've got yourself a deal!"

Once again, both Evelyn and Anders exchanged a look, this time much longer. While Anders smiled faintly in answer to Evelyn's concerned look, the latter sighed, and nodded to him. The smile dropped from his face as he looked to Lysandra."Very well. I have some maps that should help you find what you're looking for. I'll give them to you on the condition that you meet me outside the Chantry later tonight."

"The Chantry?" Lysandra wrinkled her nose in confusion. "Why would you want to go there? It's boring enough during the day, but at night..."

"I came to Kirkwall to aid a friend. A mage," he added, sighing. "A prisoner in the wretched Gallows. The templars learned of my plans to free him. Help me get him safely past them, and you shall have your maps."

"And there it is," Lysandra crowed, chuckling. "Why does it always come down to getting mages away from templars?"

This joke did not go over so well with Anders, whose expression darkened. "If you don't care to help us..."

"Oh no, it's not that," Lysandra said quickly, "It's just that my family has been doing that since forever, whether it was my father or my sister, so we're used to it. If anything, it just seems ironic. It's like the Maker has just said, 'That Hawke family. They'll be helping mages get away from templars, and damn anyone who says differently.' I was hoping my destiny would be a little less mage-related."

"Thanks for that," Bethany pouted.

"Well, outside of my sister. Oh by the way, this is my sister, Bethany," she gestured between the mages. "I'm Lysandra. This is the crazy dwarf who's making our lives simultaneously more difficult and possibly better. But he'd probably prefer 'Varric'."

"She's calling me crazy," the dwarf muttered under his breath.

"Says the dwarf talking to himself!" she pointed out with a grin.

"Anders," the healer replied by way of introduction, "And this is Evelyn, a friend of mine."

"How good of a friend are we talking?" Lysandra asked cunningly, grinning as the young girl turned pink at the question. "I mean, I just want to know if I'll be ruffling any feathers by ruffling your feathers."

"Friends," Evelyn replied stiffly. "Good friends. But don't worry, if you want to start digging around in his pants, I won't object. I would just appreciate you waiting until after we take care of the business end of things."

At this, Anders looked to her, several questions begging to be asked- but she didn't meet his gaze. Instead, she stalked into the back room she'd emerged from, apparently intent on some helpful task or another. Anders tilted his head back, eyes raised to the ceiling, and seemed to ask something of someone lingering beyond what he could see. Coming back to himself, he startled to notice that Lysandra was still there.

"So, why the Chantry? Isn't your friend in the Gallows?" She asked, relieving him the responsibility of addressing Evelyn's departure.

"I've arranged for him to meet me in the Chantry. But there's a good chance my message was intercepted, so I'd like to take precautions." He sighed. "That's where you come in; help us ensure our escape, and we'll be in your debt."

"Let's hope we don't run into trouble, then," Bethany fretted, twisting her fingers around each other. "The last thing we need is more templar attention."

Anders smiled, though it was incomplete and didn't touch his eyes. "If all goes according to plan, it will be as simple as walking in, meeting with my friend, and leaving with him."

"I'd work on having a better plan if things go south," Varric warned. "I've got a lot of pull, but explaining my involvement with not one, but four apostates would require some fancy footwork."

"Oh, don't worry," Anders grinned faintly. "I've got plenty of tricks up my sleeve if things go wrong, and Evelyn is a cunning woman, good at thinking on her feet."

"Well! Going in blindly without much of a plan against dangerous odds?" Lysandra's grin took on a maniacal edge. "Sounds perfect! I can't wait to see how this all plays out!"

At this, Anders' smile softened, becoming far more sincere. "You know, you remind me of someone... perhaps with far more enthusiasm than she would ever show, but the attitude's the same..."

"Oh?" Lysandra leaned forward slightly, grinning even more broadly. "An old lover of yours?"

He sputtered, then laughed heartily. "Oh, Maker, no! No no no!" He smothered his laughter with the back of his hand. "Nothing like that! Maker, I couldn't even imagine...!"

Lysandra joined in his laughter, and while Varric smirked, Bethany showed far less amusement in the situation. "Sister, you were the one who said not to waste time down here. Perhaps we ought to be on our way?"

"You're right, Sunshine, though you're a spoilsport for reminding me now. There are cute men to woo!" Lysandra gestured to Anders, who straightened in shock. "I mean, he's even got the broody, serious air about him! You know I can't resist that!"

Bethany pinkened at her sister's frankness. "Then I suggest you woo him in a slightly more romantic atmosphere, and not in front of your sister."

"Or your business partner," Varric added.

"We're not partners yet, Tethras!" Lysandra cackled. "But fine, I'll restrain myself. For now."

"That would be wise," Anders agreed. "But thank you. I will see you tonight then."

"Indeed you will," Lysandra winked at him, before sauntering back out of his clinic again with such abruptness that her companions scrambled to catch up with her again. Though she enjoyed seeing the faint tinge of blush come to the mage's face when she turned up the heat on her flirting, Lysandra smiled to herself at the thought of pursuing the man. That other woman already clearly had her mark on him, whether either admitted it or not. No, Lysandra wasn't interested in taking the man to bed (or, well, okay, she was, but she knew better than to let her loins make the decision for her).

Goading the two of them out of their quiet admiration of one another, on the other hand... she giggled, much to the confusion of those trying to match pace with her.

"So, the rumors about your sister are true, then?" Varric muttered to Bethany, cursing the stupid long legs of these humans.

"I'm certain that the rumors don't even do her justice," Bethany replied.