She was sitting on a short three-legged stool looking out a window overlooking the harbor approach. This far away, the water was still sea-green, not the poisonous brown that stained the harbor. A soiled poultice covered her left side from shoulder to waist. The faint smell of corruption told me that all was not well. It was obviously bothering her. She couldn't keep still.
"Hey Avvy, glad you made it," I said. "Anders tells me, thanks to you, Merrill will be fine."
It was like she didn't hear me. She looked out the window, saying nothing. Before I could think of anything else to say, she spoke, "I told you I didn't think she was fit. Why did I let you talk me into going? We almost died out there," she grumbled.
Her coldness caught me off guard. "Well… I can see you're… busy," feeling sorry for your damned self. My unkind thought finished what I didn't want to say. I left her looking moodily out the window.
Anders was waiting for me in the hallway outside his clinic's Common Room. "Wasn't in too good a mood, was she?" he grinned.
"Uhh… no!" I agreed. "Still, considering what she… what we went through, some shock is expected."
"She's in a morbid funk, maybe a side effect of the poison. That infection could get out of hand," he mused. "She needs to snap out of it, needs a swift kick in the ass." He looked at me. "Maybe you could give her that? What do you think?"
I had a ready answer, "Gotcha', I'll be right back."
"I hope you can do something for her." The tiny woman set her tray with a pile of gauze pads and a blue bottle on a table outside the common room door. "It would make my task a lot easier."
"Let's see if this will work," I said, lifting the latch to open the door. "Play along with me. She'll thank us later." After seeing her nod, I entered.
On hearing the door open, Aveline pulled her hand from under the bandage and pretended to stare out the window. Had she been scratching? She probably was–Poor thing.
"I've gotta be going now," I told her, "Merrill will be alright… again, thanks to you." I paused after seeing no reaction from the woman at the window. "I'll stop by to check on you…"
"Don't bother Hawke," she interrupted. "Come see Merrill if you want, but leave me be!" It was almost a snarl.
That's what I was listening for. I rounded on her and let her have it; "Fine, sit here and cry! The next time I need help, you can sit on your fat ass in the barracks and polish your pretty armor. It'll look good on parade." I though for a moment. "Don't worry about honing your sword, though, you'll never need it!" That's enough! I thought, maybe I'd gone too far.
It worked. Aveline was furious. She trembled with suppressed anger."Bastard!" was all she could manage."GET OUT!"
"Here, here now…what in the blazes is goin' on here?" It was Tiny, right on cue. "YOU! Leave, NOW!" she cried with an uncertain look only I could see.
My hand steadied her tray in passing. "Get outta my way!" I growled at her.
"Well, I never!" she retorted, kicking the door shut, almost hitting me. "There now, dear," she soothed.
Anders was silently applauding at the entrance to his study. "Very good. I think it worked." He made a face and ushered me inside.
"Just one moment." Anders finished making hurried notes and looked up at me. "Merrill has only one more treatment and, barring mishap, should recover completely. There may be some scarring, but no permanent disability. She was very lucky."
"So, she was poisoned? How?" I asked. "What kind of toxin was it?"
"Aveline found a dart, a tiny shard, in Merrill's chain shirt. It probably deflected from her staff and scratched her arm and left rib. It must've had a trace of the toxin, just enough to infect the wounds. At first I wasn't sure what we faced, I had no idea whatsoever. Tomwise has had experience with this kind of poison and he doesn't believe there is a known antidote."
"Tomwise, how did he get involved?" I wondered.
The healer replied, "just blind luck, the off-chance, really. When Aveline ran by, he couldn't help but notice Merrill and her condition–He's really sweet on her, you know–and he followed them here."
"Hmm, that's not like Aveline at all. She's normally not that careless."
"Well, in spite of that, she did everything right; She washed the wounds with lyrium before moving the patient and hustled her to us right away, almost killing herself doing it."
"She caught a rash? It's contagious then?"
He was shaking his head, no. "Not in a true sense. Fluid from Merrill's wounds ran down her torso, causing a mild infection. One of our treatments took care of that. Now, with care, she'll heal completely."
I was curious. "What is the treatment? Is there anything I can do to help?"
Anders smiled at that and rubbed a thumb and index finger together. "A little gold perhaps? The reagents are costly. Seriously, Tomwise thinks the toxin behaves like Dragon Bile-I concur. We've put our heads together and have come up with a cure. We wondered; What if we used a poison on the other side of the spectrum; One that has a known antidote. If we apply it and then use the antidote, would it effectively cancel the active poison?"
I was lost. "The other side of the spectrum?" I asked.
His smile was not condescending. "Sorry, we had to select a poison that was chemically the opposite, so-to-speak. That way, it would stop what the Dragon Bile was doing to her; Killing the flesh from the wound out."
"And it worked. What poison did you use?"
"You won't believe it. It was so simple." He pointed to a green bottle on a shelf in the corner. "Crow poison, it's called Antivan Green. The antidote is available anywhere. The procedure is very painful, but it reduced the swelling and slowed the effect almost to a standstill. We used that formula and strength on Aveline and it stopped the rash completely. It should dry up in a day's time and start healing. Now a stronger dose applied as a second treatment should do the same for Merrill."
"Can I see her, maybe just look in for a moment," I asked him.
He was thoughtful, considering my question. "I'd rather you didn't right now. I assure you she's fine. She needs her rest, maybe tomorrow? She'll have a busy afternoon and with a night's rest, she will be up to seeing visitors…
Varric was shaking his head. "So, now you've got your hands elbow-deep in the healing trade too? What's next?"
"It's not that I had any choice, but I do what I can." Hawke shrugged. "Bartrand already took my share for the Deep Roads expedition, so I wasn't short of money there."
"Yeah, money was never your problem, Hawke. You are always tripping over the stuff." He sighed. "I should be so lucky." He refilled their tumblers and set the brandy bottle back on the table. "So, you went back the next morning after Merrill's treatment…"
The next morning, when I got there, Tiny showed me right in after thanking me for helping with Aveline, who was responding to her treatments, and would be released tomorrow. How she would deal with her absence from guard duty was left up to her.
There were three cots in Merrill's treatment room, with a small table on one side, and a chair near each bed's head. The sharp smell of antiseptic wasn't strong enough to cover the low smell of corruption here. The elf was lying on her right side, sound asleep. She was snoring, which didn't surprise me.
"She's doing very well, Anders is pleased with her progress," the tiny woman told me with lowered voice. She exchanged a pitcher on the table and quietly left the room.
"The Hawke finally appears," Tomwise remarked. "Where ya' been, shem?"
"Places to go, important people to see… knife-ears," I retorted.
He adjusted her top-sheet, held up a hand, and gestured for me to follow. When he'd gently closed the door, he said, "I shouldn'ta told you… I didn't know…" He seemed upset.
"It worked out, my friend, better than you know," I said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "We found what we were looking for and more."
"And what was that," he challenged, throwing a look at the door to Merrill's room. "Was it worth the risk to your lives? That's not like you at all Hawke!"
"Well for one thing, the Chantry believed it was a Blood-Mage the Templars tripped over in the South End. It wasn't, he was a Necromancer. The poison he used was a clue."
"It was really a venom, A natural poison," he corrected me in an off-hand, distracted tone." Aveline told me the bastard got away from you, did he?" It sounded like an accusation.
"Yeah, he did," I admitted. "We had our hands full… he knew the battlefield better than we did." I didn't mention how Merrill had forced the confrontation. What did it matter?
"Humpf!" He glared at me. "Hawke, who is this… Necromancer? Do we know him?"
"No one I know does. I haven't had a chance to ask… the Chantry." I took a breath and paused at almost revealing my link to Elthina. "A woman he held prisoner addressed him as Lord Quentin. Do you know of him?"
"Not by name, only by rumor." He looked like he was searching through memories. "I know a young girl that everyone calls Fly. She can go anywhere and no-one really sees her. A coupla weeks ago, she overheard a conversation in Lowtown… Let me see…"
"Take your time, Tom. This may be important."
His face lit up. "That's it, she told me it was a man in black with gold trim. He was talking with someone we all know. Someone who wore a drab hooded robe to hide his fancy clothes, but she could see it was an elf and he was a magician; Her word."
Could it have been? "Orsino!" I said. What part did he play in this? I wondered.
"Orsino," he agreed. "First Enchanter of Kirkwall's Circle of Magi, the very one. That's why this Black Mage stuck in my memory. She said a large book passed between them and a coin purse changed hands as well. The First Enchanter and a Necromancer, I wonder what the Templars will make of that," the elf muttered.
"They need to know," I thought out loud. "Since he got away from us. He could be anywhere…"
"Beg Pardon, Sers, the princess requests the pleasure of your company." It was Tiny. She'd sneaked by us and prepared her patient to face the new day. She held the door open. "Go right in, kind Sers," she invited with an impish smile.
She was sitting up with her bare feet on a woven floor mat. Tomwise sat on her left side, the hurt side, with me on her right. "Hawke, so you've finally decided to grace me with your presence?" She asked in a husky, subdued voice. In spite of her tired appearance, her eyes danced.
She managed a weak smile at my sidelong glance. "Right, they said you gave them so much trouble, I wasn't allowed to see you," I teased, picking up her right hand to stop her fidgeting. It felt cold, so I surrounded it with both of mine. "So Da'len, how do you really feel?"
She squeezed a thumb. "I… feel so tired… achy. Aside from that, not too bad. Tommy-the-Wise has been watching over me." She picked up his hand in her left. "Haven't you love?"
"Aye Lady, The Protector sent me to keep The Dread Wolf away." He looked at her sternly. "Falon'Din will have to wait awhile longer for you."
Her luminous green eyes were on him." The Maker has his Dalish helpers, doesn't he?" She asked, giving his hand a healthy squeeze.
"So, I'm left out in the cold?" I snapped. The look they both gave me was so serious, I had to laugh. "As long as you're alright," I relented, giving her a kiss on the forehead. "If you need anything… anything at all, just let me know." I stood up to leave.
Tom had a protective arm around her, I was glad to see. "You'll wanna speak to Aveline before you go," he threw at me. He seemed to've relaxed when I got up.
"I suppose so," I mumbled. I couldn't put it off much longer. Turning to the door, I said, "Take care of my sister, City Elf." I pointed back and forth at them and grinned.
He caught my meaning. "You got it. Now, get out, shem." When I got to the door, he said, "Take care of yourself, Hawke…"
I sat down on the bench beside her. Aveline looked a lot better. She smelled a lot better, too. I could not think of a thing to say, so I sat with her watching out the window. A sea-bird was circling above the channel, sailing in the updrafts the cliffs created. Suddenly it dropped to the water and ascended slowly with its prize; A silver fish that looked far too big for it to lift.
When it succeeded, my spirits lifted as well. "How ya' doin'?" I asked her.
"Fair-to-middlin'," she quietly replied, "yet-to-be-fine. The itching's not too bad, now." She seemed calmer, I was glad to see. "Hawke, I need your help. They're releasing me tomorrow…" She was embarrassed to ask a favor, it seemed.
"Put in a good word with the Guard-Captain?" I asked. "Can do. As good as done."
She favored me with a wan smile. "No, it's not that, though I'm not looking forward to facing the ogre." She looked out the window. "It's my… my husband's… Wesley's shield. I left it behind on the battlefield. If I lost it, I'd never forgive myself."
I put on a mask of concern. "Do you remember where you left it? I didn't see it anywhere," I lied. "Going back for it could be a problem. That area's still hot. Quentin got away, you know?"
"No, I don't remember. It was all a blur. It's either still where I picked Merrill up, or it's half-way here where we stopped to rest." She shook her head. "I'm going back for it Hawke, my mind is made up."
I couldn't tease her any longer. "I found it where you treated Merrill. It's at Uncle Gamlen's with her staff and bag. You can pick it up when I walk you home tomorrow."
"I don't have a say, do I?" she asked, looking me dead in the eye.
So, she was still sore at me. "Well, we could at least trade thank-you's. Merrill made it, thanks to you."
She didn't say what was on her mind. Instead, she nodded curtly. "I'll see you tomorrow, after sunrise."
I nodded back. At least she didn't say no.
"All's well… and all that trash," Varric smirked. "I love the happy endings."
"Right, smart-ass," Hawke snapped. "It was months before Aveline got over that, if she ever did. But, it's the price we pay."
"She knew the score. You just don't get off the hook so easy," he said, setting his quill down and flexing sore fingers. "So, how did the Templars react to a Necromancer in their midst?" he asked.
"The Templars never found out, as far as I know," he mused. "My next meeting with Elthina was about a week after I walked Aveline back to the Guard Barracks. A terse note that I knew was from her was delivered to uncle's house; Come see me tonight, C. It was signed, Regards, E.
"Damn, Hawke," he was smirking again. "She's warming right up. Which side of the family did the charm come from, Gamlen's?"
Nella'd just led me into the study and excused herself to let her mistress know I was there. I spent the time studying a copy of The Chant of Light that was framed and hung on the wall. In spite of myself, I read the entire thing, from start to finish. About half-way through, I felt her presence. The Grand High Cleric of Kirkwall Chantry was watching me.
Looking at Nella's smooth writing style reminded me of a question that'd nagged me for quite some time; "Can a tranquil sing or play a musical instrument?" I asked, turning around. Even in an informal dressing gown, she managed to look good.
My question seemed to amuse her. "Sadly, no… and yes! Properly trained, a tranquil can master any musical instrument, but their interpretations are… quite drab, soul-less I would daresay." She was thoughtful for a moment. "And they definitely cannot sing… I don't know whether I should tell you this… yes, I will," she laughed at a thought. "My Nella is a howler. Do you know what that is?" Her eyes were on mine.
I was perplexed. "No… but I'll bite. What is a howler?"
Her eyes were shining with mirth. "Most tranquils tend to be silent, quite reticent actually. It's just their nature. They seldom vocalize on their own. Nella, unlike any other tranquil I know, will moan softly to herself when she hears music of any kind, especially chorale. It must be something in the voices."
A thought occurred to me; "Our dog does that. Whenever my mother hums a tune or sings out loud, he joins right in."
Elthina was laughing now. "Yes, that's it. At her first Invocation, her moaning during the hymns caused me some concern, but she calmed down and my attention turned back to the Litany." Tears were forming in her eyes now. "Then during the crescendo in the final hymn, the poor dear broke into the most heart-rending howl I've ever heard…" She was laughing so hard at the memory, she couldn't breath, let alone speak.
She eventually got herself under control. "I… we were so embarrassed… thank the Heavens Sister Ursina was there to help me." She took a deep breath. "I should not laugh. It is not really funny." She hitched a time or two, then sobered. "It was quite tuneless, but I hope the maker heard her. The Ritual of Tranquility is a mercy, but I wonder about the price one must pay. But where are my manners?" She gathered my hands in hers. "It is good to see you again, Cale. Come, let us share a vintage that's a little different. We have much to talk about and so little time."
She picked up a bottle and unwrapped the silver foil from its neck. Pouring the sample, she passed it over, and watched me expectantly. It proved to be the best red wine I'd ever tasted. At my nod, she poured for us both. "Aye Lady, good wine, good company, it was well worth the trip." We touched glasses and drank.
"I want to thank you again for your efforts on Barowyn's behalf. He is a treasure-trove of knowledge, not let alone about how he was trained or the depth of his ability as a warrior, but also about our newest adversary;The Necromancers."
"So, you know this tranquil?" I asked. "Where is he from, may I ask?"
She hesitated before answering. "It is another tragic Chantry love story. One of far too many," she sighed. "Suffice it to say, Barowyn and a newly minted mage were in love… it did not work out, much to… our shame." She refilled our half-full glasses."Some day, when we have more time, I will tell you their story," she promised. She tried to brighten and managed a sad smile. "So, tell me of your clash with the Necromancer. Quentin was his name?"
I nodded, not really knowing where to start. "If I leave out our elven mage, there isn't much of a story." I wasn't ready to expose Merrill.
"Cale, you are among friends," she smiled. "I may represent the Chantry, but I do have my own mind. The Maker wouldn't have it any other way. Tell it all to me, please," she encouraged me.
"Well, a source in Darktown set us on the right path and we got there in time to break in on an execution. It seemed that a mage, a woman, refused to take some test Quentin wanted her to pass. Before we could do anything to stop it, Barowyn, under orders, executed her." I looked across the room at the painting of the three scholars. Elthina had aged well. I wondered about her two friends. Looking back at her, I asked, "what will the Chantry do with him?"
"For the execution? Probably nothing. My judgment would be for a stay. Tranquils have no free will to speak of. They will always do what they are trained to do. Quentin, on the other hand, has much to answer for. It is a shame that he escaped."
"It's a given, but he's bound to turn up again. They always do." A thought struck me; "I know Blood-Magic is forbidden by Chantry law. What about Necromancy?"
I had her attention. She was looking directly at me. "Desecration of the dead is the vilest of transgressions to both me personally and to the Maker. But for all of that the pursuit of knowledge to benefit the Healing Art is in bitter controversy." She got up and stood under The Chant of Light.
She took a sip of wine and continued, "I am a scholar, Cale. How do I justify Death-Magic to further our knowledge? I do not. I do not condone it, but neither will I reject any cures that come about because of its existence. Rejecting an important cure just because it is related to Necromancy is beyond foolishness. I do not believe that the ends justify the means, but in most cases, I will go with my heart… with the Maker's blessing, I believe."
"Lady, I love to listen to you preach," I murmured.
I didn't think she heard me. She turned and said, "But I digress, dear Cale, to answer your question, the Art of Necromancy is forbidden by Chantry law, despite the wealth of knowledge it fosters." She paused for a moment, then said with a winning smile, "In that case, I lead the End-Month Invocation at sunset on the last day. You are welcome to attend." Evidently she did hear me.
I was rattled, but managed to carry on; "Then I have no qualms about sharing knowledge of a poison called Dragon Bile that Quentin used against us. We almost lost our mage to it, but… a merchant and a healer in Darktown found a way to dispel the poison," I said in one long breath.
She smiled-Maybe at my choice of words. "The study of counter-acting poisons and toxins is ongoing here as well as in Orlais. Knowledge is power, to fall behind is to lose. Any help is most welcome. In our… unique circumstances a written account of your findings would be best. Sister Ursina welcomes interviews as well, but I am sure you understand."
"That, I do Your Grace. I'll get a write-up and get it to you at the note drop. Where it came from is not as important as its benefit," I said with a wink. Pulling Merrill's scroll from a pocket, I said, "In the same vein, this was found by a mage friend in a scroll case she bought in the market-place. She thinks it has something to do with the Rite of Tranquility. It's in an obscure Dalish dialect," I warned.
She took it and carefully unrolled the paper with a practiced hand. "Interesting, I recognize a few of the phrases. Dalish was one language I studied in school before my Ordination. It has a form that I recognize. It could be either a spell or a formula. Sister Ursina would love to see this. May I copy it?"
"My Lady, you may keep it," I said with a grin. "Merrill's translation of the title is, One Becomes Proof from Demons. She wasn't sure about some of the text. She told me she needs help with the language." I looked at her sideways. "As long as you share your results with her, she wants the Chantry to have it." I stretched the truth a little.
She tapped the scroll with a manicured fingernail. "I am intrigued by your Dalish friend. Would it be possible for me to meet her?" Upon seeing the face I put on, she added, "It will be just us, Cale," she said with a touch of reproach. "You, her and me… no Templars. I promise."
"So said the spider to the fly…" Varric was again being Varric.
"Nah," Hawke objected. "By then, I'da trusted her with my life. If you think about it, I was trusting all of our lives to her discretion. What with Bethany, Merrill, and Anders traveling with us, we'd of been in the Gallows if Meredith ever found out."
"That was something I've always wondered about," the dwarf was thinking aloud again. "Templars are trained to sniff out anyone with even a glimmer of arcane talent, yet our mages walk the streets with impunity. What gives, Hawke, you payin' protection?"
"Uh, uh… you couldn't pay Elthina to look the other way. Not that she had much direct influence on the Templars. That was Meredith's domain and she ran it her way." He refilled their glasses and set the empty bottle on the floor. "That night we discussed the Knight-Commander and I learned something about her… and Elthina…