Thanks everyone for the interest thus far – I really appreciate it. Here's the next installment. I debated whether or not to put it in, since it doesn't play a central role in the story, but it does give a little more insight into Renaldo's mind, I suppose. Someone has to take the blame for Zevran's failed mission, right? Stay tuned – next chapter we finally get to meet poor Zevran.
Oh and of course, much thanks to my lovely betas Kira and Brelaina (ha, I got it right this time). They are so quick and oh so helpful!
LCailan
CHAPTER TWO
o-o
And the Devil did grin,
for his darling sin
is pride that apes humility.
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge
o-o
Village of Amaranthine
o-o
Rendon Howe's eyes flashed with unbridled anger.
"You let the bitch live!"
He slammed his hands down on the large wooden table that was the only thing between himself and the Crow Master Alfieri – who was quite glad the table lay between them. The Antivan assassin stared, his tanned face expressionless. These Ferelden men had such little control over trivial emotions!
This man was not shamed by another, forced to admit that his own wife did not find him good enough, and yet I handled Bryce Cousland better than this fool handles a truly irrelevant snag of plans.
This non-response from Alfieri infuriated Howe further.
How could this man – any man – have no reaction to what I am going through? This is about power! It is, or should have been, about seizing the throne!
"I did not let her live," countered the Crow. "You hired one of my assassins and I sent him to Ferelden. I was not the one who was there, so I do not know what happened. Surely, you would give me time to investigate, my Lord," he finished easily.
Howe's expression soured.
"Investigate? Is that what you want to do? While my country turns against me, and my well-laid plans crumble, you want to take time to investigate your worthless organization? I was told you were the best available! Could you not have completed this job easily and without trouble? The bitch is alive, she is putting Maric's bastard on the Ferelden throne, and it's all YOUR FAULT! Everything Loghain and I have worked so hard to accomplish – everything – came out in the open and his people turned against him! Fools, all of them!"
The Antivan took a step back, raising one black eyebrow, but he did not have time to reply for Howe began to scream once more.
"Do you know what your worthless assassin has done?" He managed to choke out, still in shock over what had happened.
He turned away from the desk, making sure that the Crow Master did not see his trembling hands. It would not do for anyone to know how serious the situation was now. Lucia Cousland was Howe's biggest threat. He had convinced himself that even Loghain – with his daughter on the throne – would not have posed a threat to his power.
Loghain would have died eventually. If not by others, he would have been easily eliminated had I gathered enough power. Anora does not possess royal blood – she would have been easy to dethrone. And Maric's son posed no threat – he would have done himself in. It is Lucia Cousland who is my biggest obstacle. She took the blade to Loghain and she is the one who protects the imbecile Alistair.
The thought captured him as he stared sightlessly out of the window facing the east side of the small estate. Beyond it there were glimpses of blue and gray – the sparkling waters of the Waking Sea. It was his hideout – a tiny unimpressive shack along the bluffs which faced the eternal waters. He was safe here – for the time being at least. Though the Maker only knew when they would finally connect him to Loghain's crimes and come after him. He knew all too well that Lucia would come for him sooner or later – she had slain his accomplice and put Alistair on the throne. The coronation was only weeks away. All his plans were slipping through his fingers like the fine white sands along the distant shoreline. As soon as she discovered that Loghain was not alone in his nefarious planning she would track him down. It was inevitable – he was all that stood between Alistair and a peaceful shift of power.
If she does not perish battling the end of the Blight, she will come after me.
It had been his worst nightmare, the thing he had obsessed over since hiring Renaldo Alfieri, and it devastated him that not even the Antivan Crows had been able to stop her.
Bitch! She is like a cockroach that one!
He whirled to face Renaldo Alfieri once more.
"Do you know what this has done to me? Is she really impossible to assassinate? I was the most powerful man in Ferelden, did you know that? Do you understand our politics, Alfieri?"
He now sounded like the man he had been when Alfieri had first met him – slimy and conniving. That was exactly how he liked his men.
"I do not," he lied with a touch of smirk. "Though I understand there are two sides to every story," he continued with a raise of his eyebrow.
Howe took a step closer, and then another step. The smirk infuriated him, as did the words. "There are two sides - the right side and their side."
He moved around the massive wooden desk, face pale and alert, eyes bright, as if with fever.
"This disgusting fishing village was nothing until I came along," he breathed silkily. "As the Arl, it was I who made it prosper. I am the one who secured the arling within Denerim too, did you know that? Two Arlings secured! Do you know what that means in this country?"
There was a startling silence and then the tanned Antivan spoke.
"You Fereldans are strange…with your power and your land ownership. No comprendo…that is to say, I do not understand it."
The words and his self-righteous utterance caused Howe's insides twist with loathing.
"Two Arlings, Alfieri!" he raged. "Almost all of the north part of Ferelden! Why do you think I have been kissing Teryn Loghain's ass this whole time? Why do you think I have taken him into my confidence, talked with him, pushed that daughter of his on the throne alongside the late Cailan? He promised me the Terynir of Highever! So long as I helped him gain the throne, he promised me that none of the Couslands would be a threat to my power!"
He was breathing heavily as the repercussions of the failed assassination attempt fell on him once more. Without Loghain he was nothing. They had formed a nearly equally symbiotic relationship – Howe had needed Loghain and Loghain in turn, had needed Howe.
Howe had been the shield behind which Loghain hid while he hatched his most devious plans – it had been Howe who had planned the intricate detailing of the battle at Ostagar to ensure that Cailan would fail. In return, Loghain had helped Howe amass lands beyond those of any other noble, and land meant power in Ferelden. In addition to his title as Arl of Amaranthine, Loghain had helped Howe secure the arling of Denerim as well. And with Cailan's downfall, Loghain would have taken the regency. Long ago, Loghain had promised Howe if ever he were to become regent to the throne he would help Howe eliminate Bryce Cousland and the rest of his family – naming him the Teryn in his wake.
Amaranthine…Denerim…Highever…I WOULD have been the most powerful man in Ferelden! Who knows what that kind of power could have afforded? I wouldn't have needed that half-cocked Loghain any longer – he was just a means to the end – to my ultimate power!
He knew this –now that the Grey Wardens had taken care of Loghain, it was only a matter of time before someone came after him. He had been forced to relinquish his titles and disappear from Denerim. He had fled west – hiding out in Amaranthine until arrangements could be made for him to move out of Ferelden, even further west - perhaps Nevarra.
But Howe did not relish this and it filled him with bitter rage. As did the smug expression on the Crow's face. The assassin spoke in silky tones and his eyes sparkled with knowing.
"Bryce Cousland is no longer a threat, my Lord."
"I do not understand you," snarled Howe.
"An incapacitated man can no longer be a threat," suggested Renaldo with a raise of his black eyebrows. "You understand, yes?"
Howe's anger seemed to fade immediately, as if it was put on hold.
"What?" he managed to ask and for the first time his hopes were raised. "Are you saying that Bryce is dead?"
"I cannot say with any degree of certainty," replied Renaldo who still wore the same leering grin.
This made Howe groan in frustration.
"It is, as you say, a conflict of interest?"
Howe exploded.
"Damn you, Alfieri! He is either dead or he is not!"
But the Master assassin said nothing. Howe began to pace once more, his mind afire with new thoughts. If what the assassin had said was true – perhaps the Cousland bitch would be too busy with her grief and planning a funeral to worry about the political situation in Ferelden.
Perhaps she would see Alistair put on the throne, and then shift her attentions leaving the newly crowned king quite vulnerable – which opened up many new possibilities. Without Lucia Cousland, Alistair was as helpless as a newborn babe. After a moment of thought, Howe glanced up at Alfieri.
The assassin placed a small velvet bag on the large desk between them.
"One thousand sovereigns," he stated looking down at the bag of coin. "I never take money for a job that is incomplete."
He nodded towards the offering soberly.
"You are not, however, the only man who wants that puta pendeja dead."
The statement, and the way with which it was said startled Howe initially, though he then turned his almond shaped eyes towards the assassin. The words, though foreign, held a hatred that made him shudder. Something passed between them in that moment – a dark understanding that it was himself of whom Alfieri spoke, and that Howe knew this to be true even though no one had uttered a word.
Howe reached for the bag and then stopped, his eyes gleaming with unspoken thoughts.
Renaldo's expression however did not change – he simply stared back unblinkingly.
"My Lord?" he prompted with a low bow.
Howe paused a moment, licking his lips.
"Keep the coin," he conceded. "In case you find the proper means and moment to do what I have asked you to do. She will marry the Theirin bastard and soon. If it is to be done, it must be done before she marries him and inherits the throne by law and noble birthright."
It was strange to see the Antivan man smirk and the strange flash in his eyes. Alfieri nearly found himself laughing.
Noble birthright, indeed! The daughter of an Antivan commoner – her mother so shameful that her disgusting family kept the truth from her? Such hilarity.
His large fingers wrapped around the black bag and tucked it back into his robes.
"It will be done, my Lord. I will find a way if I have to do it myself. She will not marry into royalty and her birthright will not even matter. I take the blame for the ineffectuality of the guild and I will do what I must to right the situation."
He did not want to have to do it, to tell the truth – but the girl would die either by the hand of another or by his own if all else failed.
Howe did not question the strange comment, stepping back and offering his hand once more in a truce. His eyes narrowed for a moment.
"There is one other matter concerning the soon to be King."
Howe's words were soft and he considered the assassin for a moment before continuing.
"I offer another thousand for his head as well. For never will Ferelden be riper for my rise to power as when their King falls once more."
Renaldo smiled.
"Indeed."
Then he began to laugh.