The safe-house, Petrice's safe-house they'd learned just three days ago, still looked the same. The sun-burst plaque was there over the front door. Despite the ornament, it fit the fetid, gray atmosphere that surrounded Lowtown.
Strange that there was no-one on the streets this evening-not even on the terrace adjoining Uncle Gamlen's house across the square. Mother's chair was out, but she wasn't there. She must've been inside fussing with the evening meal. With a pang, Hawke turned and faced the others standing at the safe-house door. "My mind's made up. After what's happened, this is the only way it will work," he stated.
"I don't like it. Hawke, you are not going in there alone. There's no telling what that scheming bitch will do." Aveline stepped over, effectively blocking the safe-house door. "Varric, don't just stand there. Talk to your hard-headed friend."
The dwarf winked at her, then looked away. "Hawke… as much as I hate to cross a member of the guard, I have to agree with you. Knowing the Chantry, the templars would see muscle and respond in kind. I can't see a peaceful end to this if we all go in there…"
"I say we all go in there." Merrill interrupted him. "She deserves a good thrashing at least, maybe more." The admission seemed to have embarrassed her. Seeing them all watching her, she pressed on; "Did that mage, the Qunari called him Saarebas, deserve death? Did we deserve to die, do we deserve to die for trying to do the right thing?"
"Daisy, Merrill…" Varric looked up at Hawk, then Aveline for help. "You misunderstand. The whole point was to give him the freedom to do what he wanted…"
"To die? Is that what he really wanted?" She looked back and forth from Hawke to Varric. "I don't believe that!" she stated. "We fought, we bled for his freedom… and he died anyway." Her eyes were brimming.
Hawke sighed. "Merrill, we did the right thing, but we were wrong." When she looked up, confused, he continued, "he was a follower of the Qun. He never lost sight of his purpose. His only choice was death. We… know that now."
"No!" She refused to believe.
"Did you hear what Saarebas told me before he ended his life?" he asked her gently.
She wouldn't look up at him. She shook her head sadly.
Hawke had a far-away look in his eyes. "You were tending our wounded and didn't hear what was said. He stood at the cliff-top after the last of his Qunari brothers fell," Hawke related. "He was free. But only for a moment, it seemed. He was unbound, but it felt Odd… wrong… He called me Basvaarad, one worthy of following. He thanked… us for our intent, even though it was… misplaced."
He took Merrill's chin in his hand to look into her eyes. "No matter what I said, it made no difference. All my arguments, he deflected. He couldn't choose to 'not be.' He knew the will of Arvaarad-The way of the mage. He had to return as demanded. It was the wisdom… of the Qun. He was, and always would be… Qunari."
"Hardly what you'd expect of heathen barbarians, is it?" Merrill looked up at the Chantry symbol mounted over the door. "It adds strength to what Saemus insisted about his Qunari friend when we found him on the Wounded Coast."
Hawke held up an amulet the size of a gold coin linked to a leather cord. "This and his final words; 'Take this secret thing, Basvaarad. Remember this day.' are all we have left." He looked intently at the unevenly polished charm in the palm of his hand. The minutes spun out. "Remember this day," he murmured.
"Hawke, let's go!" Aveline had run out of patience.
The spell was broken. He looked up."Merrill, I want you to have this. You were the heart of our Vimmark Mountain journey." He smiled. "You've earned it."
Her shy smile was like the sun coming out. She held up a hand. "On one condition. Take it with you inside and tell that supposed Child of the Chantry what it means to us. That the Maker watches over all of us, the faithful, the Dalish, and even the heathen Qunari." She ducked her head. "Sorry… I'm babbling again. We can wait here outside, I suppose."
Varric grinned. "Well said, Daisy. I didn't think you had it in ya'"
"So we agree, I go in alone?" he asked, looking at Aveline, who finally nodded.
"Humor me," she said, giving Hawke a direct look. "Leave the door off the latch. If I don't like what's happening, I'm coming in."
"Will do." He wrapped the leather cord around his off-hand, lifted the latch, and stepped inside.
He stood just inside the door for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the near-dark. The only light was coming from an adjoining room through a half-open door. He heard a voice that he knew, "Clean it all out. I want no trace…" She'd pulled the door open to see an apparition standing there. A man in oiled-leather armor, with two ornate sword hilts visible over his shoulders, watching her intently. His blue eyes never left her face.
She marked him as a thief, a housebreaker, before she recognized the man she'd sent on a one-way mission. Pasting a tentative smile on her face, she addressed him; "So, my friend, you have returned… and you are alone. I certainly hope you haven't suffered any casualties, but knowing the Qunari, I can guess the outcome of our efforts. Are your… friends still with us?"
Cale Hawke didn't return her smile. He studied her for a moment, then took a longer look at her templar partner. "I'm not alone, no thanks to you. They're waiting outside."
The templar bristled. "Watch your mouth, Fereldan. Do you know who you are speaking to?"
"It is alright, Varnell." She turned to her visitor. "Please speak your mind, so we can clear up any misunderstanding."
Her reply wasn't a surprise. "They are well, Thank you," he replied with a civility he really didn't feel. Hawke could play her game as well. "They… want to do unmentionable things to you for sending us to a certain death." He watched her for a reaction, but her expression of concern never faltered. Damn, she's good, he thought. "I agree with them, but I tend to be more civilized. That's why they are outside. You deserve the benefit of the doubt." He looked at the templar, but addressed her; "You sent us out knowing that a Qunari Antaam was being led to the mage." he accused.
Her look at the templar was stern. Was there a hint of anger in her eyes? She held her hands out. "I had no idea Ketojan was being followed. It was my understanding that the mage was found among the corpses of his… countrymen. When he stirred and sat up, Varnell here, got quite a shock." She looked up at her companion. "He thought the Qunari and the Tal Vashoth were all dead. Not knowing what to do with him, my templars brought him here."
Hawke wasn't convinced. "And you know nothing about that Qunari patrol that was waiting for us when we left the cave coming from the Undercity?"
"Nothing!" She exchanged glances with the templar. "Perhaps the Tal Vashoth… had something to do with that. They would have the most to gain…" She dismissed it with an impatient wave.
"You'd better hope the Qunari don't find out about that patrol, or you're involvement. The Chantry wouldn't stand for that. Check Lady, Watch your queen." Hawke warned.
Petrice smiled. It was almost feral. "And Check again, Serah! From where I am standing, you are all in a tight situation. How will you explain slaughtering an entire Qunari war-party searching for their rightful property? I do not think their Arishok would smile on such senseless aggression …unless they are the ones doing it."
Hawke went to the door, then turned back. "In case you're interested, we freed him. He gave me this," he said, holding up the amulet. "Just before he immolated himself. If he had lived, it would not be as a follower of the Qun. Can you say that Sister? Would you do that? How strong is your faith?"
She didn't seem to have heard him. Her eyes were on the charm. "Is that… a Talisman of Saarebas?" Awe and fear warred on her face. "I will buy it. How much?"
"It isn't mine. Sorry, it's not for sale." He pocketed it and changed the subject. "You know, the Qunari and you templars aren't so different. You are both deathly afraid of a mage's power. Just a mention of being near a mage put that Antaam on the path to a confrontation. After that, the talking was over."
"You talk to them," she scoffed. "What good does that do? What do they know about… being civilized?" she wanted to know.
Hawke smiled-A predatory smile. "Civility? They don't show that to an enemy, Sister. They've drawn a line and damned if you didn't step over it. Thank the Maker that they don't know what you're doing here… yet. Do you really want a war with the Qunari? Hasn't history taught you? Fighting is the break-down of diplomacy." He drew his off-hand blade, causing every sword-arm in the room to find its pommel.
Looking her in the eye, he gouged a line in the wooden floor, drawing the point across just short of her toes. "Here is my line, Sister," he almost snarled. "Do not cross it!"
She didn't bat an eye. "You have done what I asked, so you have earned this." She threw a bag of coins at him. "Watch that mage you travel with, they can never be trusted. Know that I certainly will."
He surprised her by snatching it from the air before it hit him in the chest. "I'd be careful about throwing the Chantry's weight around." His eyes held hers. "What would the Grand Cleric of Kirkwall say if she found out what you've been up to?" Her startled reaction answered Aveline's question; Is she acting for the Chantry or on her own? He pointed a finger at her. "Check!" He closed the door on his way out.
"So, where's her head?" Varric wanted to know.
"More to the point, Hawke. Where do we stand?" This was Aveline. "We don't want war with the Qunari." Her face lit up. "Is that why we spent so much time burying bodies and cleaning up?"
Hawke just smiled. "The Good Sister has the moral high ground in this. Who's going to believe a band of mercenaries?"
"Don't tell me she's won." Merrill was indignant. "We risked our lives…"
"No, not quite." He was thoughtful. "I'd call it a stand-off, a stale-mate. Petrice won't say a word and the Arishok won't find out what really happened. He has an idea the Chantry is involved, but no proof."
Merrill looked at Aveline and then back at Cale. She didn't understand. "So, why doesn't Petrice, how do you say it… go public?"
"Sister Petrice wanted to hold you, Merrill, over our heads, but it seems she's operating outside her authority. I wasn't sure about it until a few moments ago. That's why she can't say anything about it."
"Hmm, turn the Chantry, maybe all of Kirkwall against the Qunari," Aveline mused. "It all fits now. We spoiled it by not dying, I suppose."
He handed the talisman to Merrill. "She's been checked for now, but let's keep an eye on her and her templar friends. They may target our keeper, here."
The elf smiled self-consciously. She settled the talisman's cord around her neck and said, "Nothing we can't handle."
Hawke turned over in his sleep. He'd tossed and turned for hours before finally drifting off… …his dream was so vivid, it seemed real…
…Nella had just shown me in. Not seeing Elthina, I waited in the atrium for something to happen. "She's in the bath," Nella called from the reading room. "She is expecting you, go right in."
I heard her voice humming some tune as I made my way through the bed-chamber into the changing room. The bathing-room door was ajar. A wisp of rose scented steam led the way.
So much for propriety, I thought, putting an eye to the door.
"Adding voyeur to our resumé?" she asked in a teasing tone of voice.
"There's so much mist in there, how can I see anything?" I said through the door.
"Well, there is certainly a cure for that," she said, standing up for me to get a good look…
"Good Morn' Serah Hawke." the houseman pulled open the curtains to let in more light. "Time to rise and shine." He turned and studied the lump under the covers.
"Same to you, Bodahn," the lump replied. "No chance of getting a few more winks, is there? What's that dog yapping about?"
"Sorry Messere, no chance of that. He's all excited. A few of his friends… of your friends are here. We don't want to be rude now do we?"
"Perish the thought." Hawke still didn't throw the covers. "On the serious side, how is mother?"
Since Bethany's catching of the darkspawn taint in the Deep Roads and being forced to join the Grey Wardens, their mother had refused to come from her room. No matter what he did or said, her fury remained unabated. She laid the blame firmly on her eldest son's door-step.
"Well, she's eating, at least. That woman from next door came to visit. They are… how do you say it? … putting their heads together. I don't know what it's about, though."
"I'm glad she's not alone." His voice was muffled by the blankets. "Why is everyone here? Is something going on that I don't know about?"
Bodahn considered the question. "No, the Guard Captain said something about a personal favor she needed and that Grey Warden fellow, Anders, was rather tight-lipped, he will only talk to you about it." His face lit up. "Oh, before I forget-Mistress Merrill sends her regrets. Her work with the looking glass takes most of her time, now. She says even Tomwise is getting short-tempered. She will make it up to you. She promises."
"That damned glass is a hazard. She's so obsessed with it… Well that's Tommy's concern now." Hawke sat up, eyes tightly closed to the bright light. "Have you seen Varric? He's taken his brother's betrayal hard. Can't say I blame him."
"He's just arrived. A late evening, it seems. There is news of the traitor's whereabouts, so he says. The others have been here awhile. Mother's restorative is in his cup this very moment." The houseman turned with his hand on the door-latch. "There is a note for you-it looks official-and I took the liberty of heating the bath, Messere. Your casual clothes are laid out in the dressing room. Break fast is in the warmer, waiting your arrival. The day awaits."
"Thanks Bodahn, I'll be right down." Feeling the urge, he padded to the necessary, then the bathing-room.
The note looked official enough. There was the great seal of the Viscount of Kirkwall on the letterhead. In stiff prose, it requested the presence of one Messere Cale Hawke at Viscount Dumar's office as soon as possible. Damn, when it rains, it pours. Hawke couldn't help thinking. I'll get it all done… eventually.
"Aveline, Anders, and Varric," he raised his voice over the murmur of conversation and the dog's barking-both Sandal and Aveline were playing with him. When it had quieted some, he continued; "It seems we have more to do than time to do it." He looked at each and finally settled on the dwarf. "I have to ask that we hold off personal tasks and tackle this first." He waved the note to get their attention. "Varric, I know how you feel. Following up our lead on Bartrand's whereabouts is next. Then Anders, your search for reagents will get done. Aveline… your patience is appreciated. Somehow we'll get it all done. I promise."
Varric looked at the floor. "An old dwarven saying; 'Revenge is a dish best served cold.' It can wait." But not for long, his uplifted gaze added.
The Guard Captain seemed downcast as well. "Last-but-not-least, eh Hawke?" Her affair of the heart would have to wait.
"All I can say is thanks for staying the course." He ushered the way out. "Bodahn, we'll be at the Viscount's Office and then, parts unknown."
"Fine Messere, me an' the boy will be here. We will keep an eye on your mother as well. not to worry." He closed the door behind them.
The Viscount's Keep was an imposing stone edifice built to house Kirkwall's City Guard as well as its Administration. The Guard Barracks and Captain's Office were to their right, while the Viscount's Office and Quarters were two flights of stairs up to the left.
The door to the sitting room, where citizens with appointments waited, was closed. A knot of restless nobles milled around, voicing their displeasure at having to wait for an audience. Upon seeing an armed group approaching in the company of the Guard Captain, the guard at the door saluted and stepped inside. "One moment, Captain."
The man the guard returned with introduced himself as Seneschal Bran. Unlike the guards, he was dressed as a noble and seemed fussy about his appearance. After a stern look at Aveline, he glanced at Hawke's note and beckoned them inside.
"Excellency, Cale Hawke and Company. About the Qunari problem?" When the viscount stood Bran continued, "As I was saying, their compound was not meant to be a permanent… home. There are concerns that the Qunari influence is… no longer contained."
Viscount Dumar, the titular head of Kirkwall, was an imposing figure. His above average height and stern countenance went along with his shaved head and direct gaze to tell all that he meant business. "Was it ever?" he challenged. "Kirkwall has tension enough between templar and mage, but these Qunari…" He focused on his seneschal. "They sit like gargoyles, waiting for Maker-knows-what, and everyone goes mad around them." He shook his head. "Nearly four years have I stood between fanatics."
He walked behind his desk and shuffled some papers. "Knight-Commander Meredith at my throat, First-Enchanter Orsino at my heels, and the whole of Kirkwall scared half to death of heretical giants." He turned to face his visitor. "I've run out of answers, intelligent solutions evade me, but now the Qunari leader, their Arishok, has requested you. By name." Dumar was puzzled. "What did you do?" He leaned forward, waiting.
"What didn't we do?" the dwarf wise-cracked.
Excellency, I hope you never find out, ran through Hawke's mind. He shrugged. "I managed to get his attention a couple of times. Maybe I impressed him, if that's even possible, but that was years ago. I'm surprised he remembers."
The Viscount searched Hawke's face. "That makes no sense… but it really doesn't matter. I just want them quiet." He paced the room, thinking. "Well, I remember how you helped my son. That is why I called for you. It seems you were meant to have influence well above your station."
Hawke heard a snort from behind that could only be Aveline. Steady, girl, he thought at her.
Dumar stopped in front of them. "Speak to this Arishok. Give him what he needs to keep the peace . Can you do that for Kirkwall, Serah Hawke?"
From the look on Aveline's face, he could imagine her head exploding. "Excellency, We are at your service. We are always willing to assist," he said.
"That is an attitude this city has lacked for a long time. Appease the Qunari. Take their demand and let them return to dormancy. As awkward as it seems, it is far better than the alternative."
"Until you have to face it in the end anyway," Varric's voice was pitched for Hawke's ears alone.
Kirkwall's Viscount hadn't heard, or at least he pretended that he hadn't. "Return when you finish. It will set our minds at ease." He sat once more and shuffled papers. He looked up. "Bran, see them out please."
A/N Thanks to Forgotten Vice for getting me to see some sense. In the end, all will be well, My Lady.