Chapter 3
Then- Bloomingtide
Baron Plucky is feeling self-righteous today.
The raven is alert, feathers fluffed out to make him appear intimidating and more voluminous, squawking resentfully to anyone who walks by, steadfastly refusing to relinquish his perch.
It makes the Spymaster wonder what the bird is hiding.
She's made repeated attempts to coax him out since his roost is very close to the entrance of the rookery (one beaking and countless eye gouging attempts are sufficient for one day) but he stalwartly remains. Leliana approaches her favorite courier slowly, speaking tenderly in placid tones.
His intelligent black eyes recognize her but his feathers remain ruffled and he does not move. Appreciating his devotion, she draws a sprig of berries from her pocket, displaying it squarely the center of her palm. Sentry duty abandoned in the wake of the small treat, the cantankerous bird hops onto her shoulder and plucks the undersized branch from her palm.
"Let's see what caused all the fuss shall we?" she asks, stroking his head, interested to learn what the bird stole this time.
Dagger...dagger...-these she pulls out and carefully tosses to the floor-some silver baubles...Varric's pocket watch (missing the past month)...a ring bearing the Charger's insignia...and a smattering of leaves and twigs. Leliana puts her hands on her hips, confused.
"You've had these for awhile now silly bird," she mutters, observing the frenetic way the Baron watches his nest, convinced he's concealing something. She reaches into the nest, shuffling everything aside, brushing past the barrier of shrubbery, drawing out a thin silver tin slightly larger then the palm of her hand.
The raven caws in disdain but she croons to him softly, retreating to her desk with the circular tin in hand. She opens it cautiously, expecting trinkets or various odds and ends, but finds neither.
The tin contains an assortment of phials, ranging in size-each containing a different colored liquid-as well as an angular pair of scissors, and a petite tortoiseshell comb. She draws the phials out one by one, raising them up to catch the light through the windows, captivated.
The green and purple phials have their labels ripped off while the labels of the white and brown are mostly illegible. On the white she can only make out one word-"wax"-and on the final one, the phrase "Mr. Natty Frank's Beard Elixir".
Beard Elixir...
The collection clicks in her mind, the scissors, comb and concoctions telling Leliana exactly who the owner is-and just how much trouble Baron Plucky will be in if exposed.
"Plucky you nasty thing-where did you get this?" she scolds the bird who stubbornly refuses to look abashed. She replaces the lid, about to wave it at his beak and demand he return it when she senses someone watching her.
She turns slowly, vigilant, but relaxes when she sees Cole's large floppy hat in the stairwell outside the rookery. She stands to place the Baron in the bird cage next to her desk, leaving the stolen tin on top, and calls out.
"You may enter Inquisitor. Baron Plucky is occupied at the moment."
The hat perks up a little bit as Meryn raises her head, pointed elvhen ears appearing first, tired eyes next, the rest of her body following, an ungainly flailing of limbs as her body attempts to keep up with flurry of commands from her mind. She stumbles up the stairs, toe catching on the top step, causing Cole's extravagant headwear to nearly fall off her head; she rights it quickly, tramping it down roughly on her head, obscuring her hair, violet warily scanning the room.
Leliana hides the smile she always gets at the Inquisitor's unwitting antics, instinctively perusing the younger woman instead, sizing her up, looking for any weaknesses or discrepancies. Leliana may no longer be a bard, but old habits are difficult to unlearn, and as Spymaster of the Inquisition, Leliana can ill afford too.
The Inquisitor seems exhausted-not just physically if the circles under her eyes are any indication-but mentally as well. Her usual infectious vibrancy is muted, as if all the color and life has been drained out of her, leaving only a perverted serenity.
And it's Meryn's stillness which troubles Leliana the most.
Meryn's abundant spirit turns her into a coiled spring-a quick retort or a self-depreciating joke is never further than a breath away. As if her mind is trying to expel her superfluous energy she is always in motion-generally without realizing it-bouncing a leg up and down in council meetings, gesturing flamboyantly with her hands as she speaks, fingers tapping out a melody on her thigh while she pretends to listen to Josephine.
(Leliana is positive the latter finally managed to get the Inquisitor a scolding from the ambassador if the gossip from the library is to be believed).
Leliana has seen only two legitimate outlets for the Inquisitor's exuberance. The first is battle, where the Inquisitor, mind and body actually acting in unison, moves nearly faster then the eye can see, flitting in and out of the field, decimating her opponents with a clinical efficiency.
The second was Solas.
Meryn was another being around the older elf-calm, more tranquil-as if his mere presence could pacify the flood inside of her, leaving Meryn a more self-assured and honest version of herself. But it was a natural quietude and the only time Leliana has seen the Inquisitor truly at peace and content.
To see her like this, eerily still-no leg shuffling, finger tapping or gestures of any kind-outside of combat and without the renegade apostate is the most disturbing of all.
She also seems on the verge of a paroxysm, eyes darting around the rookery.
"You are safe Inquisitor," Leliana repeats, pointing over her shoulder to the raven's pen. "Baron Plucky is otherwise engaged," drawing attention to the bird as he tries to swallow the twig his berries were on.
Lady Lavellan finally relaxes, fingers fiddling with the phial of veilfire she wears around her neck.
"Excellent. Thank you for that Leliana. Though I did come prepared this time," she says humbly, waving to the overlarge hat that's threatening to overwhelm her. "I didn't want a repeat of the last time. Blackwall tells me the stable boy can't even look at a bird anymore without flinching."
"Truly?"
"Yes," she nods vigorously. "It got especially awkward at mealtimes-the worst when Lady Selys was visiting," Leliana must have looked confused because the Inquisitor rushes to clarify.
"The one with the brown hair and the ribbon hat? Has an aversion to red meat?" The former bard nods in recognition.
"The cooks only made fowl for a week?"
Ah yes. Leliana recalls the evening clearly now.
"The stable boy practically had a fit, ended up knocking over a steward who dropped the wine decanter on Lady Selys' husband and then he choked on the main course and passed out face first in the potatoes," she pauses, contemplative. "He wasn't even supposed to be dining with us that night, he was just on his way to the gardens and then-" instead of completing her thought, she pantomimes it, arms thrashing wildly, giving Leliana a very clear (and unnecessary) picture of the event.
"Then I'm sure everyone-Josephine included-is grateful to you for remembering and preventing another diplomatic incident." She chooses to gloss over the Inquisitor's need to speak with her hands, instead noticing the suspicious absence of the Meryn's shadow.
"And where is young Tadwinks?"
"Dorian," Meryn replies, pointing over her shoulder at the library below as if the one word answer is the only explanation necessary. In this case it is; the rivalry between the Fennec and the mage having gained nearly as much notoriety as the Herald herself.
"I think he's up to something," she continues, reaching in her pocket and pulling out a bright silver fork, clearly snatched from the great hall. "He's never been partial to silver before-" Baron Plucky starts screeching and strutting around his cage, pressing his beak through the bars, eyes hypnotically locked on the utensil.
"One of Plucky's trinkets then," Leliana says, pocketing the fork, shooting a chiding look at the bird who is preoccupied with the cage's lock, fidgeting with it, rubbing his beak across the latch.
"Josephine said you wanted to see me?" Meryn changes the subject, and as Leliana turns back in her direction she imagines she sees a glimpse of a blackened slip of fur disappear into the darkness under one of the tables, but on second glance she cannot be sure.
"Indeed. We've received a runner about the letter you sent to the Dalish in the Exalted Plains," she says, giving her head and eyes a quick shake to clear them.
"And what did it say exactly? Any strange activity in the ruins?"
"Yes. It is the same as before. Whoever is investigating the ruins is sending in small expedition teams. They're scouring the ruins thoroughly but remaining respectful to an extent- an unusual behavior for looters," she pauses, gathering her thoughts. "It leads me to believe they are looking for something specific, and are much more organized and well supplied than we originally thought."
Meryn muses over this, biting her lower lip. Knowing she is about to give the Inquisitor yet more bad news, and dreading it, Leliana tries to keep her face even and emotionless.
"There's more. The message-it was not written by the Keeper," violet widens, but Leliana pushes forward. "Or the First. The composer identified himself as the hahren, and refused to elaborate further unless it was in person," she pauses now, glancing at the Inquisitor's face, finding her face hard, expression closed. "His reticence suggests the clan's leadership is either indisposed, or more likely-considering the other recent activity in the area-they were abducted."
Leliana has disclosed a host of bad reports and discouraging intelligence to the Inquisitor, and she can always tell how a mission will end based on Meryn's reactions.
When Leliana told her of the danger to Clan Lavellan the Herald's eyes hardened with determination and the might of the Inquisition was brought to bear in the Free Marches, bringing an entire city to heel-elves now govern in Wycome.
Leliana told her of a message from Divine Justinia and violet had gone soft in compassion, normal rambling replaced with a steely eloquence, causing Leliana to actually spare the life of a potential threat. Meryn saved some of the Spymaster's dwindling humanity, earning something only one other person in Thedas possessed- Leliana's complete trust.
The only time the elf was indecipherable was when Leliana informed her that for all of the former bard's secrets and trickery she was unable to locate Solas- that time Meryn was deathly still, eyes widening, releasing an infinitesimal sigh before turning on her heel and leaving without a word.
She vanished for a week.
No one could find her, while all tried- Tadwinks, Morrigan's magic, the remains of the qunari's contacts-but nothing worked. Skyhold was in a panic until she simply reappeared as easily as she'd left, repentant smile on her face (not because she'd disappeared and worried everyone) but because she'd knocked a banner down from the ramparts while she was scaling the outer wall. They'd asked her why, to which she simply replied that it made for a grander entrance, and everyone had taken the joke and accompanying smile to mean that things were back to normal even if they were clearly not.
If Leliana was not a master at reading others she would have believed too, but it was not a coincidence the Inquisitor's nightmares and the fluctuations of the Anchor started occurring shortly thereafter.
But with the news that the leaders of her people, the caretakers of her culture, are possibly disappearing Leliana knows the mission will occur like the one in Wycome- with all of the righteous fury of the Inquisition thrown at it.
"Inqui-?"
"When did the message arrive?" Meryn interrupts, and Leliana watches as the elf slips into the skin of "Inquisitor", a resolute gleam in her eye.
"Shortly before your meeting with Josephine."
"I'll go as a forward party and meet with the remaining Dalish in the Exalted Plains-" Leliana stops her, feeling it her duty as an advisor to cite possible dangers, but Meryn is having none of it.
"This will not be another Wycome. Corypheus is dead. I won't stay behind and let another clan get trampled on because some nutter shemlen scavengers are trying to filch my people's history."
Finding it difficult to argue with her conviction, Leliana concedes. "I'll have Cullen send a contingent to follow you as soon as possible."
Meryn nods in appreciation, turning to leave via the stairwell.
"We may need two," she throws over her shoulder. "Knowing my luck we'll run into the Venatori who've gone from worshiping darkspawn to doing elvhen blood sacrifices and having dancing corpse parties," she jests, sardonic smile firmly in place.
Leliana means to ask for clarification but is startled when a blur of fur shoots out from under the table, vaulting nimbly onto Meryn's shoulder, trilling excitedly and rubbing insistently against Cole's hat.
"Does he always do that?" Leliana asks, startled, slightly breathless.
"Always," Meryn pushes out; trying to hold onto the hat Tadwinks is pushing off in his spirited affection. "Ready for an adventure young one?" the Inquisitor questions him.
Tadwinks growls happily, standing on his back legs, and uses his front paws to push the hat to the floor, Meryn's hair spilling out and tumbling down her back.
Admonishments of "Taddy no!" are drowned out by all hell breaking loose.
Baron Plucky, finally successful in opening his cage, dives at Meryn, crowing in delight while attempting to pilfer her silver hair. Finding he can't pull it out with his beak, he latches onto it with his claws, trying to fly upwards and take the shrieking Inquisitor with him.
Tadwinks, unsettled from her shoulder, hops serenely onto Leliana's desk, landing beside the small silver tin of mustache care supplies, picking it up gently in his mouth, meandering back down the stairwell and out of sight.
Leliana leaps into action, untangling Plucky's feet, trying to save the diminutive Inquisitor.
Two stitches and a bald spot later, the Inquisitor, Dorian, Blackwall and Cole are riding hard for the Exalted Plains, a gleeful Tadwinks in tow.
Notes:Next Time: Meryn and Co. learn more about the missing Dalish and Meryn has some more trouble sleeping. Oh. And an angry druffalo.
Quotables: "If you're going to insist on sounding like a two bit doxy fresh off the wagon from the bannorn, at least be creative it!"