Chapter 3

"Make way you sodding fools!" Oghren shouted.

People stepped aside as Oghren and Nathaniel Howe barged in to the infirmary with Velanna supported between them.

She was in bad shape, Davyd could see that much. She had horrendous burns on her forearms and more bruises and contusions than he could count. Oghren and Nathaniel were basically carrying her, so he could only guess she had leg or foot injuries, making it nearly impossible to walk. Her face was contorted in pain, but she made no sound.

So proud, Davyd thought. She refuses to let any 'shems' even so much as hear a whimper born of pain escape her lips.

Davyd was worried, however. Normally if anyone was injured the mage, Anders, took care of it. Davyd didn't pretend to be well educated on the subject of magic, but he was given to understand that Anders had a particular knack for healing.

Davyd wasn't without skill himself. Though his true love was cooking, he had spent many hours in the field hunting with his father as a young boy. Learning to cook often meant hunting the source of the food first. In that time he had learned a lot of herbalism, basic survival skills, and first aid.

"MacDougal!" Howe said. "We need you!"

Davyd sighed, walking up to the cot they had deposited Velanna on. "I'll do what I can, but her injuries are severe. Anders should really have a look at her." About the last thing he wanted was to be anywhere near the foul-tempered Dalish woman.

"Anders is with Lady Cousland in the western end of the arling. He won't be back for three more days," Howe said.

"Damn," Davyd swore. He examined Velanna's injuries. The burns he could do little for except bandage and apply pain killers.

"Farron," Davyd said to his assistant, "fetch my painkillers and bandages. Velanna, those are third degree burns. I have to clean them with disinfectant before bandaging them, otherwise you'll get infected. I've got some pain killers that will make it bearable, but I have to do it or infection could kill you. Do you understand?"

Velanna nodded.

Farron returned with Davyd's first aid kit, which he laid out on a small table next to the cot. Davyd retrieved a small flagon from the kit, showing it to Velanna. "This is opium extract. It will ease the pain, but you'll be drunker than the void. Nothing for it though, so drink up."

Velanna took the flagon, and drank up.

"Good," Davyd said. "Give it about five minutes to start working."

True to his word, Velanna went glassy eyed in just a scant few minutes. Now came the fun part. The hot-headed Dalish woman hated shems. She was not normally sociable at all and wouldn't even let people inside her personal space. Now, he was intending to bandage her, which would involve physically handling her quite a bit. Davyd figured he was likely to get punched. Or magical fireballed. Or perhaps bitten. What could possibly go wrong, he thought.

"OK," Davyd said. "The extract is working." He took another small flagon of disinfectant and coated a clean cloth with it. He gently touched the cloth to her burned forearm, eliciting a sharp hiss. Davyd pulled away from her. "I'm sorry."

"It's OK," she ground out from behind gritted teeth.

Damn, Davyd thought. She was barely able to say that. She must really be in a lot of pain.

He resumed cleaning her burned skin as gently as he could. Even with the pain killer, he could tell she was suffering. He felt every strangled wince like a punch to his heart. He just couldn't stand to see someone, not even her, suffer like that. This is why I didn't go into medicine, he fumed.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finished. He gently wrapped her abused forearms in heavy white bandages.

"Done," Davyd said, finishing up. "You will need the pain killers in order rest. I'll get them for you and have them delivered to your quarters. Can you walk?"

"She's severely injured her left ankle," Nathaniel said. "I don't think anything is broken, but she shouldn't walk on it."

"OK. I think we have a crutch she can use for now," Davyd said. He turned to face Velanna. "Other than that, we'll just have to wait for Anders to get back. You should rest as much as possible. In fact, the pain killer is likely to put you to sleep pretty soon."

Velanna nodded.

Nathaniel followed Davyd out of the infirmary. "Thank you," Nathaniel said.

"I didn't really help her that much," Davyd said. "I just wish Anders were here. All I can really do is slap a bandage on and give her something to make her not care about the pain."

"That means more to people than you might think," Nathaniel said. "Especially for someone like her. I think she really appreciates it."

Davyd snarled. "I'm sure she'll be back to wanting to cut all shems' throats soon enough, or perhaps telling me that Sara deserved to die. That's when we'll know she's feeling better."

Nathaniel grimaced. "She really said that?"

Davyd nodded. "I have to admit, though, my behavior wasn't exactly exemplary. Still..."

Nathaniel sighed. "There's no point in holding a grudge. She didn't kill your first wife."

"She probably would have if she'd been there," Davyd muttered.

"You don't know that," Nathaniel protested. "Listen to me, because I know. Nothing is served by feeding your anger over past wounds. Do you truly wish to see her suffer because, if you do, she's certainly suffering now."

"The Dalish should suffer a punishment for what they did," Davyd spat.

"I didn't ask if you wanted the Dalish to suffer, I asked if you wanted her to suffer," Nathaniel replied.

"There's no-" Davyd stumbled to a halt. He'd almost said there was no difference. But there was.

"I..." Davyd began. "I never thought of it like that."

"It's easy to see the group someone belongs to and paint them with a broad brush because of that," Nathaniel said. "But she's not a group. She's a person, just like any other person with faults, qualities, hopes, dreams, and feelings."

"She has painful feelings, Nathaniel," Davyd said. "A lot of them."

Nathaniel cocked a questioning eyebrow.

"She comes into the kitchen a lot at night. That's when her own personal demons come out to torment her," Davyd said. "My quarters are across the hall from hers...I've heard her weeping for her sister on more than one occasion at night. That's not even the worst of it, though. Lady Cousland told me what she did, with the caravans. The guilt is overwhelming. I don't think I've ever seen anyone so hopeless. You're right, Nathaniel. She does have feelings. She feels things I wouldn't wish for anyone to feel," Davyd explained.

"I don't get you sometimes," Nathaniel said. "You can go from towering anger towards her to surprising gentleness."

"It's hard," Davyd said. "After Sara, it's just so hard to not see the faces of her killers when I see a Dalish with those tattoos. I just wish..."

"Wish what?" Nathaniel asked.

"I don't know. I guess I just wish Sara were still with me, that's all," Davyd said glumly.

"We all have things in our past we wish we could change," Nathaniel said. "Maker knows I do."

Davyd nodded, but he was quite ready to change the subject. "What happened to her?" he asked.

"We got into it with a band of darkspawn. They had an emissary with them, a powerful one. This one favored fire magic. She stood between the emissary and the rest of us, conjuring one shield spell after another to protect us," Nathaniel explained.

"Damn," Davyd muttered.

"It was unbelievable. I don't think I've ever seen an emissary that powerful. The fireballs it cast were as violent as those explosives that Dworkin Glavonak has been making. The first fireball knocked me clean from my feet. I tried to gain my footing, but the fireballs just kept coming. She stood her ground, Davyd. With the Maker as my witness, I have never seen anything like it. I finally got to my feet and killed the emissary. It was distracted trying to overwhelm Velanna, and I was able to kill it with a well placed shot. Unfortunately the beast had released another fireball just before my arrow struck, and Velanna was exhausted. She saved my life, Davyd, of that I have no doubt. So thank you, for helping her."

Davyd nodded. "Your welcome."

Davyd returned to the kitchen and started preparing the evening meal. Nathaniel's words were still fresh in his memory, and the implications of what he'd said bothered Davyd. He was appalled that he could've dismissed someone so readily due to the actions of others.

It was something he had to deal with, but he wasn't ready. Fortunately, he had work in front of him to attend to, which would take his mind off his own failings.

Tonight, it was pot roast. He wasn't especially fond of pot roast, but it was easy to make in quantity. The roast had been simmering in the kitchen's numerous cauldrons all day, and it was ready to serve. Putting on a pair of heavy oven mitts, he busied himself with Farron and the rest of the kitchen staff carrying the heavy cauldrons out to the head of the accursed buffet line. It was good, raw, heavy labor. Perfect to take his mind off things.

A few of the Vigil's soldiers had already filed in, and dinner would be in full swing shortly. Davyd and his staff quickly finished setting the buffet line.

"Looks like it's going to be a large crowd for dinner," Davyd said as more and more soldiers filed in.

"You know, the Orlesians refer to the second meal of the day as 'dinner' and the evening meal as 'tea'. Completely the opposite of how it's done here in Ferelden." Farron said.

"Yeah, well, that's like the Orlesians to do things ass backwards," Davyd said. "I'm surprised the Chevaliers don't train their horses to run backwards. Come to think of it, Orlesian nobles do have a tendency to talk out their asses. You see Farron? Backwards in every way."

Farron chuckled. "Ahh, Ferelden. Nearly as irreverent as Orzammar."

"Nearly?" Davyd said, feigning hurt feelings. "Besides, I've always heard the dwarves are big on tradition. They seem to be the opposite of irreverent."

"Only on the surface," Farron said. "Behind closed doors, the thin veneer of submission to their noble caste drops pretty fast."

"You'd think the noble caste would come down pretty hard on that sort of thing," Davyd said.

Farron shrugged. "Occasionally they do. But they're usually too busy with political intrigue to be bothered by some upstart commoners."

"Political intrigue? Dwarves? Those just don't seem to go together," Davyd said.

"Hah," Farron laughed. "You clearly haven't been to Orzammar. The dwarves are masters of political intrigue, equal to the Orlesians. Worse, in some ways. Consider for a moment that dwarven daggers are considered to be the very finest daggers in the world. Now, you'd think that the Dalish would make the best daggers since their warriors tend to favor a fighting style that works best with a dagger."

Davyd nodded. "Good point. So, why are dwarven daggers the best?"

"Because daggers get inserted into a lot of backs in Orzammar. Dwarven daggers are the best because they've been used the most and, thus, the design and smithing that goes into them has been refined the most. That's why their quality generally exceeds that of Dalish daggers," Farron explained.

"Maker's breathe, you're serious aren't you?" Davyd asked.

Farron nodded.

"OK, note to self: do not get a job in Orzammar," Davyd muttered.

"Speaking of sharp, pointy things with Dalish origins," Farron said, "what in the Maker's name happened to her?"

Farron motioned towards Velanna. She had just hobbled into the dining hall on one of her borrowed crutches. She was having a really hard time getting around, every step an exercise in willpower and pain. It was difficult to watch.

"Dueled with a really strong darkspawn mage," Davyd said.

"Ouch," Farron replied.

"My understanding is that the darkspawn came out a lot worse than she did. Still, from what Nathaniel told me it sounds like it was a near run thing," Davyd explained.

Velanna finally managed to seat herself at her usual spot, off by herself. A sudden urge struck to Davyd. He wasn't given to spontaneity, but this somehow felt right.

Davyd retrieved a bowl from the kitchen, and dropped into the still short buffet line. He spooned up a healthy portion of pot roast, and took it to Velanna.

A flash of annoyance crossed her expression briefly, but she quickly stifled it. "Thank you," she said. "That was very thoughtful of you."

"Think nothing of it," Davyd said.

Velanna tried to pick up the spoon, but quickly ran into a problem. Davyd had had to bandage up her hands, since her fingers were severely burned.

She looked at the spoon with frustration. "I appreciate the thought, but it would seem I didn't think this through."

Someone will have to help her, Davyd thought. Lady Cousland was gone, or she'd have done it. The Arlessa was just that sort of person. She treated her people like family. And she'd want me to do the same. Oh,Maker. What could possibly go wrong, he thought, coming to a decision.

Davyd seated himself next to Velanna and picked up the spoon. Her eyes widened in understanding what he intended. "No!" she hissed. "I will not spoon-fed like some child."

Her face set in an angry rictus, she struggled to her feet, trying to get the crutch under her right arm. "I'm sorry," Davyd said. "I didn't mean it that way."

She finally got to her feet. "I...know," she said. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

Davyd waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. It's been a long day."

"Yes, it has," she said. "Maybe I should just retire for the evening." Even as she said it, Davyd could tell she was famished. Severe injury could do that to a person. She looked down at the hot roast, and then uncertainly around the rest of the room, at the other soldiers.

So proud, Davyd thought.

"Look..." Davyd began. "You're hurt pretty bad. You shouldn't go skipping meals. We don't have to do this here."

Velanna glanced around the room again, and then at the roast. After a long moment she released a pent up breath. "Alright. I'll just go to my quarters. Meet me there."

Davyd entered her quarters. The quarters were generally well appointed, normally being used as a guest room for visiting nobles. With the Vigil playing host to both the Grey Wardens and Amaranthine's troops, the place was getting pretty crowded, so Velanna got the nice guest quarters.

Velanna was seated at a small reading table. Davyd pulled the chair that sat across from her to the right, so that he was seated beside her.

The look of shame on her face was obvious. He didn't know what to do about that.

"You can always change your mind," Davyd said gently.

"No," she said. "As you say, I'm injured and I need to do everything I can to keep my strength up, at least until Anders gets back."

Davyd nodded. He dipped out some roast, and held it up for her. Gently she ate from the proffered utensil. She didn't let anything but a neutral expression cross her face.

And so they continued in silence for the next half hour.

When they were finished, she simply sat for a few moments, silently. "It's OK, Velanna," Davyd said. "Everyone needs a little help now and then. Even invincible, badass Dalish mages."

She giggled a bit. It came out more like a yelp. Davyd didn't think she'd expected his sarcasm, and the the little laugh appeared to have taken even her by surprise.

"Was that...a giggle?" he asked, with mock incredulity. "By the Maker, you've ruined everything!"

"Oh?" she queried.

"It's just that I never imagined invincible, badass Dalish mages were capable of such a thing," Davyd said.

"OK, now you're just mocking me," she said, but the mirth was visible in her eyes.

And they're very pretty eyes, Davyd thought. I don't know why I never noticed them before.

In fact, she was really quite beautiful. He had never even noticed that before now. She wasn't beautiful in the classic sense. Her features were too angular, too severe for that. She was, however, very striking. Beautiful eyes, physically strong and very fit.

Stop that, Davyd chided himself. She'd set your arse on fire if she knew what you were thinking right now.

Davyd became serious again. "I won't breathe a word."

"I'd appreciate that," Velanna said. "Now, I think I'm going to turn in. The medicine you gave me is really kicking in, and if I don't get up and go to my bed, I'll probably end up sleeping in this chair."

"You need help?" Davyd asked.

"I'll be fine," she assured him.

"OK," Davyd said, rising. "I had Farron leave several more doses of the pain killer I gave you earlier. They're in the nightstand. You will probably need another dose every four hours or so. I'll loosen the caps on the flagons for you while I'm here."

Davyd opened the nightstand and did as he'd said. Velanna hobbled over on her crutch, and deposited herself on the bed.

"Need anything else?" Davyd asked.

"No," she said.

"Then goodnight to you," he said.

She called to him just before he closed her door. "Davyd," she said, uncertainly. "Thank you."

"Your welcome," he replied.

Davyd walked towards his room, his mind still filled with the image of Velanna smiling. He chided himself again for dwelling on it. Even as he did this he knew he was going to have a hard time not thinking of her as he went to sleep.