"Go on," Fenris said.
Bethany had stopped dead at the head of the stairs that led down into the courtyard. High afternoon had faded to deep black, but even the faint orange flickering of several oil lamps did little to pierce the gloom. Quinn should have been in bed hours ago… Still, she knew the huddled form at the base of the steps, though the lamps focused elsewhere. The woman sat hunched over, her head bent low over her knees, flanked on either side by a pair of Templars. The legions of corpses strewn about her on the bleached sand earlier that afternoon should have told the Templar hierarchy that a mere four of their number wouldn't be able to stop her should the woman decide to launch an assault. There was no mistaking the daggers that rode in twin sheaths or the spikes of that hideous armor Lysandra had taken to wearing, even though they were but deep silhouettes.
"I can't."
"Andra's been waiting hours for you. At least eight."
"She had you for company. It couldn't have been all bad."
"One of the kinder things you've said to me." She could barely make out his smile, though the moon reflected on his teeth. "And she hasn't for several hours, at least."
"You left her alone?"
"Blood stiffens. Andra doesn't seem to be as finicky. She also had a little yelling to do, as I mentioned."
"And you let her."
"One can't 'let' Andra do anything; she does as she wills. I didn't necessarily agree with what she was going to say, so I figured it best to remove myself. And perhaps have a bath."
The silhouette moved and seemed to creak as it moved to its feet. A sensual stretch that reeked of Lysandra, and the figure groaned as it made its way up the stairs.
"Since when did you two start getting on?" Lysandra asked. "I was wondering if that was truly my sister and my, er…"
If she could have seen anything, it would have been a faint flush on her sister's cheeks.
"Bethany and I had a chat a few days ago," Fenris said, "and I didn't end up charred to a cinder."
"A miracle, then," Lysandra said. "I suppose you'll tell me about the chat one of these days."
"Maker!" she swore. The blackness wore on her, as did seeing Lysandra as little more than dark spots in deep grey. She called a small ball of light and held it out. "You're still as caked as you were this…"
"Morning. Maker's breath, has it really been that long? It feels like ages since you left." She sidled up to the elf and slipped an arm around him.
"Bethany needed to eat."
"You needed to… Andraste's arse, they never fed you? You! Barbarians!" She yelled down at the Templars in that strident tone that used to shred Carver to ribbons. "I understand you don't bother to feed the mages in your care!"
"Lyssie, stop! You're not going to make things better, you know."
"So the next time someone takes you captive because they're trying to get to me, you want to starve as these idiots treat you like a criminal all over again?"
"Andra, you may wish to listen to your sister," Fenris said.
"I live here, Lyssie. These men guard me."
"I…" A long sigh, and in the faint silver light, Lysandra clenched her eyes shut. "All right. Fine. I suppose I'm not the one protecting you anymore, am I?"
Is this the sadness Fenris spoke of?
"You'll survive," Fenris said with that oddly alluring laugh of his.
"I'm so sick of kowtowing to that harridan! She owes me, dammit! And I know my last outburst cost me the favor she keeps hanging over my head…"
"Favor? What favor?"
"To transfer you to Ferelden's Circle. She keeps promising she'll allow it if I run endless errands for her since her flaming Templars are too busy terrorizing Kirkwall to do their jobs."
"You want to send me away?" Quinn's face, contorted in fear as the Templars brought him in, flashed behind her eyes. "Lyssie, how could you?"
"I want you to be safe."
"That's it? You just want me to go because I'm not 'convenient?'"
"You've already suffered because of me. Something's going very wrong in Kirkwall, Beth, and you're only going to suffer more when whatever it is explodes. Fenris and I have been talking… I miss Ferelden, and…"
"And you're going to leave."
Lysandra nodded. "The Divine's planning an Exalted March on Kirkwall, and things are only going to get worse, especially with these idiots in charge. Meredith has already lost control of Hightown to a cabal of blood mages, and the plotters… Maker's breath! They make Petrice look like a master!"
The elf snorted. "Fools, indeed."
"If they were so foolish, how did they take me?"
"Magic." A bitter laugh. "You'd think if you were trying to lure the Champion of Kirkwall out and blackmail her, you'd at least send her a note. We only found you because Orsino wanted me to spy on a gathering of mages who would go missing every once in a while. We'd killed over half the conspirators before we even found out that you were taken. And that was only because that idiot, Keran, decided to tell me that they'd kidnapped you! I should have killed him."
Lysandra still baffled her sometimes. "For telling you about me?"
"For being an idiot and for being part of that ridiculous plot. As stupid as the conspirators were, Meredith's Templars are a thousand times worse! They watch over the Circle, and they had no idea anything suspicious was going on?"
"I'm not leaving, Lyssie."
"Bu… No, I'm sure you have your reasons for risking your life, and some of them may even be worthy." The tone was too flat, too lifeless to come from her. The eyes, deep, even in the silver light she'd summoned, clenched shut.
"How very gracious of you to allow me my reasons."
The elf's eyes narrowed, but whether in reproach at her or at Lysandra, she couldn't tell. No, likely it was at her, for a mage surely ranked lower in his esteem than the woman he loved.
"I'm sorry, Beth," Lysandra said. "I'm not very good at this, am I?"
"No, you're not."
A grunt from the elf, a disapproving grunt. He probably wants me to fall down at her feet and worship her like all the rest of the city seems prone to do. Lysandra's mouth twitched up at the corners; she'd never been one to take insults personally.
"I probably deserved that. Well, I should go, I suppose. I'm glad you're safe, Beth."
"And after all that, you're just leaving? Maker's breath, Lyssie, don't you understand anything anymore?"
"Tell me what you want from me," Lysandra said.
"I… I want my sister back, but I can't…"
"Can't what?"
"You say you're leaving."
"Hopefully soon. We'll see how many other Dalish clans need to be massacred first."
She held her globe a little closer and noticed deep shadows around Lysandra's eyes, canyons cut deep from creases. Closer still, and she couldn't miss the small droplets that glimmered like stars in the corners of Lysandra's eyes. Maker, she's exhausted!
"You destroyed Merrill's clan on Sundermount? Why, Lyssie?"
"The blood mage brought ruin upon all her kin, much as anyone sane might have predicted." Despite Fenris' words, she heard no condemnation in his voice. … She's off wandering through Sundermount graveyards to keep the blood mage from destroying everything.
"If I understood it, I… I can't do this anymore, Beth. I just can't."
"Do what? Be my sister?"
"You've seen how well I've protected Kirkwall and Carver and Mother and… you… Promise me you'll think about leaving for Ferelden! I already lost you once. I can't do it again!"
She hated the heaviness in Lysandra's voice, so different from the acid humor that had been her usual habit. "I… Look, you seem exhausted, Lyssie. Get some sleep, and I'll… I won't promise anything."
Lysandra nodded. "Sleep's been scarce lately, but… Eat! I'll see you tomorrow if you're willing."
She forced a smile. Even after her long magical sleep, she felt the Fade and dreams beckoning. "Go, Lyssie. Maker willing, we'll both be in better sorts tomorrow afternoon."
Even in the blackness, Lysandra's smile lit the courtyard. She hadn't seen that smile in years, and she'd forgotten just how much it had warmed her.
"Until tomorrow, then," Fenris said.