The table in Varric's suite at the Hanged Man had been cleared of all but the brandy bottle and two tumblers. The dwarf never stood on ceremony, unless he had something to gain. After tipping the serving girl, he set up notebook and quill to continue his recording of Hawke's story.
He pulled his chair closer to the table and waited. "So Hawke, time to pay for me feeding you. C'mon, give. The search for the Blood-Mage started at your uncle's… humble abode?"
Cale suppressed a belch and smiled. "Merrill, Aveline, and Faust. There weren't many to choose from, went with me. The others, including you, came later. At first, I didn't want to involve Avvy. Her place in the guard was too important to her. That was about the time she was at odds with the captain. Something about guard-pay going missing."
"What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger," he mused. "You were saying?"
"Right, Elthina knew we were setting out that morning. She had the High Cleric's infirmary ready. We couldn't involve the Templars. That would raise too many questions…"
The smells coming from the kitchen weren't very appetizing at all. Mother was probably boiling the laundry, again. Her brother, Uncle Gamlen, doesn't wash clothes. He sends them out to be cleaned-says it's beneath him.
Then I saw the reason for the smell. It was herbal potions simmering that assaulted my sense of smell. "Ma' Sarenas for the use of your kitchen, Hawke," It was Merrill. She held her arms out and did a graceful turn for my inspection. "Notice anything different?" she asked.
It was the same Merrill, that winsome vision of Dalish elven beauty that we all knew and loved… most of the time. She wore a garland of wild-flowers around her neck and there was something funny about the set of her ears. "Besides your usually pleasing appearance? No," was all that I could come up with.
She put on a pout that lasted long enough for me to see, then she smiled. She put her arms around my neck and kissed me. "I'm in season," she said brightly. "That's a reason to celebrate!"
"Merrill!" It was Aveline, though you couldn't tell by the way she was dressed. She was wearing the scarred and dented armor of an adventurer and she was aghast."That's not what we do here in civilization."
Her cheerful mood didn't falter. "But… I am Dalish, that's what we do!" she said, smiling and kissing me again. "The potions should be cool by now. I'll be ready when you… and the good guardswoman are," she growled, made a face, and returned to the kitchen.
"Hawke, what's going on?" Aveline was puzzled. "Is Merrill fit to take out? Will she stay focused, or will we have to watch her…"
"Yes, yes… and no!" I interrupted her. "I, we need her on this trip. Her nose for magic is a necessity," I said, looking toward the kitchen with a slight frown. "The Chantry believes there is a Blood-Mage in Darktown dealing in kidnapped tranquils. I was asked to look into it discreetly."
"The Templars can't handle it?" She snorted, then looked up at me, embarrassed. "Sorry I asked."
"It seems Meredith and her Templar's ability to deal with something sensitive like this was in question."
"They do have their own ways," she agreed, petting our family's brindle mabari, Faust, giving his ears a good scratching. "Scorch the area and sort things out later," she grumbled. "Is Muttso, here, coming with us?" She gave his back a good rubbing and stood up.
"I guess he is, Varric is with Bartrand on family business, something about the Deep Roads expedition. With both his and Merrill's noses, we'll find something…"
"What's this about my… our noses?" Merrill was back with her carry-all stuffed with who-knew-what.
"Nothing, Merrill," Aveline snapped. "We are just glad you're going to be with us. Let's get started." This will be on your head, her stern look-in-passing told me.
"All the talk about tranquils reminded me of something." she set her bag down and rummaged in a side pocket. "Here it is." She held up a paper scroll tied with a bit of black ribbon. "I was… well, lost the other day… again, and I came upon an old woman selling some very interesting reagents. On a shelf in her stall was this scroll case that sang out to me when I spotted it. It was carved from a very dark wood with a scene I like to call The Keeper and Fen'Harel–TheDread Wolf." She held it up, pointed to the scene etched into its polished surface, then handed it to me. "Can you believe it? That witch wanted the outrageous sum of twenty silver for it."
After I examined the case and handed it back, she continued, "I managed to talk her down to twelve and took it home. It sat on my study table for a week before I got around to cleaning it up a bit. There was a parchment scroll inside that practically fell apart when I took it out. I was lucky to get it all copied, though. This is one of the copies. I made two."
She unrolled the scroll on the dining room table. "It's very obscure, even for me. I need help with some of the text. It's Dalish, I can see that, but it's a strange dialect. It's a spell, I think." She paused as if deciding whether to continue or not. "The translation of the title, here, is One Becomes… and this word here could be tranquil, because it translates directly as Proof from Demons." She looked up. "I'm sorry… it probably means nothing."
"No, no dear," I protested, putting an arm around her. "I know someone who would be very interested in this. May I keep it? I'll make sure you get any information relating to it." She nodded. "Let me lock it up and we'll be on our way."
"Merrill in season, huh?" Varric couldn't hide the mischievous gleam in his eyes. "That went over well with the guardswoman, I bet. Culture clash with my friend, Cale Hawke-esquire, caught up in the middle." He changed the subject, "Where was your sister? Wasn't this a mage-hunt?" he asked. "It seems she always misses out on the fun."
"Technically, Bethany's not apostate. She hasn't been declared one, yet." He looked up at the sound of footsteps outside the door. "I want it to stay that way. Besides, I don't think her and Merrill get along that well. It's not out in the open, but there's a… tension when they try to work together. It's better she stays home."
"I've never been able to figure that one out," the dwarf said. "Sometimes things just mesh well and then other times… personalities are hard to predict."
"Avvy and Merrill are like sisters. They have their moments, but it's not the same as with Bethany. The elf and the guardswoman work well together. Threaten one and see what the other does. They get on well with the Dog, too, so there's no worry about us all coming back."
"So your first clue was in Darktown…"
I got my usual sense of unease that was D-town as we stepped off the lift. It seems that darkness and misery have soaked into the very stone here. That the ancient machinery, built to lift tons of quarried stone to the surface, still ran was a tribute to its builder. The slavers of Tevinter.
'Well, Halooo theyyre!" Merrill was rooted in place, it was almost a howl. Her eyes were locked on something across the passageway.
Aveline had been the first one off. She noticed what it was right away. "Tomwise." Her eyes rolled in that I should've known way of hers.
The elf with that name set a blue stoppered bottle on an upper shelf in his merchant's stall and greeted us, but his green eyes remained on Merrill. "It's Cale Hawke and company as I live and breathe. And who is this elven beauty you bring to me?"
"Greetings, Tomwise," I replied. "I'm sure you've heard of our Merrill? Formerly the First of Keeper Marethari?" I turned to our Dalish companion, who ignored me completely, her eyes were still on the merchant. "and Merrill, may I present alchemist and merchant Tomwise?"
"First Merrill," he growled her name. "It is my pleasure to meet you." Then he rattled off a phrase in Dalish I didn't catch.
Aveline's sharp intake of breath caught my attention. She was watching the merchant as his ear-tips lowered and his nostrils flared, giving his features a sinister look. My hand on her wrist stopped her from drawing a blade on the elf.
Merrill smiled in return."You flatterer." Her answer in Dalish was just as cryptic. She turned to me. "Forgive my rudeness, Hawke. He said I would bear beautiful children and in return I told him he would be a most worthy sire," she whispered.
"First Merrill, may I make a social call? Perhaps on the morrow eve?" he asked, getting right to the point.
She smiled at him. "Alchemist Tomwise, I would be disappointed in you if you did not. My home is in the Alienage. In the north-west corner." Her ears had lowered as well.
"Then I shall be there at sunset," he promised.
"Now that the niceties are over… Tom?" He was still admiring Merrill. She didn't seem to mind a bit."Tomwise!" I had to raise my voice.
"Sorry Hawke, was woolgathering." He looked around. "Anything you need?"
"Nah. I did find the recipe for the combustion grenade. We haven't been to the Wounded Coast yet. The trail to the formula for the fell grenade leads there. We'll see."
"That's one Qunari import I'd like to deal in. Can you imagine the coin that would bring in?"
"Not if it's in the wrong hands, Tomwise. The Arishok was right about that. Children shouldn't possess blades."
"That's where you and me differ, shem. If hims got the coin, him gets to lead. That's the way of this world."
I shrugged, me and Tom would always be friends, even if we didn't agree. I laid a silver coin on the counter and pinned it down with a finger. That always got his attention. "I want to pick your brain. The Templars tangled with a Blood-Mage near here not long ago. Have you heard anything on the street?"
He looked around to see if we were alone–We were. "Yeah… but it'll cost ya' one more."
I didn't bat an eye at this shake-down, that was just his way. Almost feeling Aveline's disapproval, I stacked another coin and held them both down.
His eyes dropped from their appraisal of the guardswoman. He obvously didn't trust her. He finally met my gaze and said, "Don't know his name, but sometimes he runs Carta business, mostly smuggling. It pays his bills, ya' know? His den door is only one way. Out, but I know the way in. I had him followed." His green eyes swept the corridor again.
I took my finger from the coins. They disappeared up his sleeve in a flash. Then he told me where to find the Blood-Mage…
The entrance was easier to find than Tomwise had hinted at. About half-way down an air shaft that ended in the lowest level of known Darktown, I noticed an uneven course of blocks on a ledge. It was an open door. Someone in a hurry had left it part-way open.
After pushing it open all the way, I helped Aveline with Dog and entered myself. We made sure there was no-one there, then I helped Avvy and Merrill through the narrow opening. The alchemist had assured me the way out would be easier. We'd see about that.
The passage was just wide enough for us to walk in single file; Faust was in the lead, then me, then Aveline, with Merrill bringing up the rear. Every few minutes she would back up a few steps and check the rear for followers. Apparently the guardswoman's fears were unfounded. Merrill would be fine.
The passage seemed to go on forever with few turns. We were covering a lot of ground. Even with the elf's clever mage light that hovered over Dog's withers, visibility was limited. His hearing and sense of smell would be our advantage.
A sharp bark from ahead stopped us in our tracks. He'd stopped and pointed on a silver stripe painted on the stone floor. It had faded to a shadow. We could've missed it easily.
Aveline moved aside to let the elf squeeze by as I whispered the one word question that came to mind; "Ward?"
Merrill nodded and uncorked a bottle she had ready. "Lyrium," she whispered. Pouring a thread of the potion along the stripe caused it to react. It fizzed and emitted a thin, grey haze. Covering her mouth and nose with her hand, she then stoppered the bottle and stowed it away. "Don't breathe it in," she admonished. "Let's go." Once again, Dog took the lead…
"Let me get us another bottle," Varric held it upside down. "We need a break anyway. I'll be right back."
When he returned, he had two. Both had Antivan seals that promised a well made spirit was to be had. "Called in a marker. These didn't cost a cent. Where were we?" He was working on the cork stopper of bottle number one.
"My guess, and it's only a guess, is we were three levels down and somewhere under the Dwarven Merchant's Guild. Counting the basement, that would be four levels. I didn't think there was anything below three. The water table is supposed to be at three."
"Huh! You're telling a dwarf about water tables, Hawke?" He looked skeptical. "There's dwarfs that live their whole lives below the table and they never get lost. That's a surfacer concern. Just kidding! That passage ended eventually, right?"
The passageway ended on a raised platform overlooking a large, square chamber. There were two iron-bound oak doors leading out; One was directly ahead. The other was to our left. There were no handles or locks on this side of either door.
"Looks like a training room." Aveline stood beside me. "Or maybe an arena. Is that blood on the floor? It smells like it."
Merrill wrinkled her nose. "It reeks of blood… and Blood-Magic. There's fresh here as well as old."
The far door opened and we all instinctively went to ground. Aveline's gentle hand on his muzzle silenced Dog's growl.
A procession of four entered the room, led by a warrior my size-Of average height and medium build. His blackened chain-mail armor marked him as a skirmisher. His shield and longsword were blackened as well. I could see no herald on his buckler. Following closely was a mage with a midnight cloak and cowl with embroidered gold-thread borders. Flanking him were a man and a woman in the simpler robes that an acolyte would wear.
The far door closing and the left door opening were well timed. From the left a woman, wearing a simple grey robe and cowl that hid her features, appeared and stood tensely before the warrior in black. She bowed her head to the black mage and waited.
"Sentence will be passed," the mage intoned. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
She held up her head defiantly. "My Lord Quentin, I ask for an appeal. I would gladly take a fair test. A test of my loyalty and ability. I have been faithful…"
"Enough! You have not!" He thundered. "In refusing, you have failed! The test is valid! Barowyn, carry out the sentence."
Merrill could take no more. Uttering a despairing NO, she stood and loosed an arcane bolt at the warrior in black. It staggered him, but did not stay his blade. The woman fell with a cry as Faust bounded down the stairs to the right. He was on the Black Mage before I even managed to take the first step down.
Aveline brushing by me caused me to pause. Who was covering Merrill? A quick look up gave me the answer; She was above us at the end of the passage volleying arcane bolts at all three spellcasters. She'd be fine.
That left me to face the one called Barowyn. His first charge was a feint that caught me flat-footed. I barely managed to parry a thrust of his blade and then his shield-bash put me on the floor. The spell that Merrill cast slowed him. It saved my life, allowing me to flank him and sweep his feet from under him.
Aveline and Dog were engaged with the acolytes and had to stand and watch the far door open, allowing the black mage to escape. Before he left, his eyes found mine and marked me. This is not over. I will see you again, they promised. The door slammed and a bolt was drawn.
Barowyn was down. Had Merrill's spells done for him? I wasn't sure. Turning to the last ones standing, I waded in. The woman made a throwing motion towards the upstairs landing and I saw Merrill fall with a cry. I answered that with both of my blades and the woman fell. The fight was over.
Aveline bounded up the stairs while I looked at the fallen. The prisoner was finished, as were both of the black mage's acolytes. Barowyn still breathed. He was unconscious and bleeding from a shallow cut on his shield arm. As I bound his wound, the sunburst weal on his forehead gave me a reason to smile. Barowyn was the Warrior-Tranquil we were looking for.
"Hawke, we've got a problem here!" Aveline called from the landing above. "I need to get Merrill to a healer. NOW! I'm taking her to Anders… that's her only hope. You and Dog can handle what's left, right?" Her voice was shrill with tension.
Could it be that bad? "Alright, GO! Take the way in. You won't get lost. We'll follow when we can." I had to trust her judgement.
I could barely hear her, "There now, princess, this is gonna hurt, I'm so sorry…" Merrill's moaning cry made me run to the stairs, where I saw her over Aveline's shoulder. Aveline's jade-green eyes met mine. "Maker, give me strength," she prayed and ran out the door and up the passage…
Varric was trimming his quill with a sharp pocket knife. "So, you found the tranquil and he was armed. The Chantry takes a dim view of that." He tried the new point on a scrap of paper and picked up his brandy. "Isn't the arming of a tranquil a capital offence?"
"That had me worried, but I had nowhere to keep him. Taking him to Elthina at the Chantry was my only option. When I got to Darktown, the doors to Anders' clinic were locked. No one would answer, no matter how much I hammered on them. I wasn't even sure if Aveline had made it there with Merrill. I finally gave up and took him to the Chantry."
"I can see it now, Cale Hawke, carrying a wounded warrior on his shoulder, stumbles into the Chantry…"
"Not quite," Hawke interrupted. "It wasn't what I expected. Like most tranquils, this one didn't seem to care once the fight was over. He just followed where I led and didn't mind carrying Merrill's staff, her bag, and Aveline's shield."
Varric looked at Hawke sideways. "You disarmed him, didn't you?"
Hawke nodded. "Without armor or a weapon, the tranquil won't fight. No matter how much you try to provoke him. I think it was a part of his training. That may save his life. He didn't arm himself, the mage did that."
"That's a fine point. My money's on the Templars putting him down as an example to the others." the dwarf considered the point. "So, what did they do?"
"I wasn't sure where Elthina was at that time. The only way to get in touch with her was to use the entrance to her study. There are two oil lamps hung on hooks in the passageway at the door. One with a blue-glass globe on the left and one with a green globe on the right. There's a recess under each lamp large enough to stash two wine bottles."
"Ahh, that would keep you from appearing at the wrong time. So, you've added assassin to your resumé?"
"Nope. That door has a bolt on her side that a stone golem would have a problem getting through. The lamps were a way for her to tell me there was a message in the recess or if she was… busy."
"You've lost me," Varric said, closing his notebook and pulling up a sheet of paper. "Lamps and locks, why not just knock?"
"You know better than that!" he scoffed. "We have a simple system. If the blue lamp is lit, there's a message from her. If I light the green lamp, I've left a note. If both lamps are lit, we must meet right away. She can see into the tunnel before the door is opened. I was in the passage with the tranquil when I lit both lamps…
The bolt being lifted seemed loud to us standing in the tunnel. The blue-green light of both lamps was just strong enough for us to see the door open. The glare from the room beyond blinded us until a face appeared dimming it some. It was Nella. "Good even, Serah Hawke. Please come in. The High Cleric has but a few moments to spare."
She led us through the Reading Room into the study. Elthina was dressed for a meeting as Kirkwall's Grand High Cleric. Her grey robe and scarlet bodice were immaculate. Just looking at her made my heart ache. She looked magnificent.
"Good Evening, Serah." She adjusted an already perfect sleeve hem. "Forgive me. I have little time… a meeting with Viscount Dumar. I must not keep him waiting… too long," she said with a hint of a wink. "Do you have news for me?" Her eyes were on my charge, who stood behind me. Did she recognize him?
"Aye, Your Grace, indeed I do. May I present…"
Her eyes grew wide. She almost looked comical. "Barowyn? It is you, is it not?"
He bowed at the waist and spoke; "It is I, Your Grace. Maker's blessings upon you."
She recovered quickly, though it was obviously a shock to see him. "And to you as well." She managed a brilliant smile. "Nella, dear, please see our… guest to the Infirmary. Sister Ursina will take it from there. Please tell her to take his history and start his testing."
"Right away, Your Grace," she said, leading him from the room.
"Barowyn… when I sent you, Cale, I didn't realize it could even remotely be him," she mused. "I thought he had been executed in the field. At least that is what Meredith had me believe." She adjusted her robes and turned to the door. "That is a tale for when we next meet. I really must be going. Next week? I'll send a note and we will talk."
She led me to the tunnel door. "I cannot thank you enough, Cale. Barowyn means a lot to me." She kissed my cheek before closing and bolting her door.
The entry hall to Anders' clinic was as quiet as when I was last here. No one was near. This time when I knocked, though, the peephole in the sally port slid open and I heard a woman's voice, "It's Hawke, he's alone." The door opened just enough for me to slip through.
Anders eyed me with some suspicion. He looked exhausted, his tunic stained with Maker-knew-what. "You're the one to blame for this, Hawke?" He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
I almost lost my temper at that. "Blame who you want," I snapped. "I am here to see about Merrill and Aveline. They are here, right?"
After looking across the room, he let his shoulders slump."I'm sorry, it's been a rough night." He wiped his forehead with a not-so-clean rag. "Aveline was never in danger. She has a bothersome rash to deal with. Merrill… Merrill is another story, but she'll pull through, thanks to a large dose of the Maker's luck."
I was at a loss for words. "What was it?"
He looked haunted. "She was poisoned… necrotic poison."
It sounded ugly. "I've never heard of it," I replied.
"You have. It goes by the name of gangrene." He sighed. "Most cases I see are caused by improperly tended wounds or poor health, but this is the first time I've had the pleasure of treating a poisoning." He started unbuttoning his tunic. "Let me get cleaned up and we'll discuss it. Go talk to Aveline. She's in the common room. Maybe you can get her to go along with her treatment," he said, pointing to a door across the hall. "I'll be right back."
"Damn Hawke, that's some nasty stuff," Varric concluded. "The Chantry sent you after a Blood-Mage, and you tangle with a Necromancer. Their poison arsenal takes evil to a higher level."
"That's what Anders told me. They're just starting to learn how to deal with death magic and its toxins. If Avvy hadn't been there…"