PART V

"You are a Shadow," Leliana hissed, and fell back into Orlesian without realizing it. « I didn't know your leashes extended as far as Ferelden. »

She felt Zevran tense beneath her arm. "You speak of the Shadows of the Empire?" he murmured. "They are real?"

The elf inclined her head at a sarcastic angle. "Oh, yes, we are as real as you are. We are merely better at keeping ourselves, mm...com' sa dir—ah, secret. We are poor shadows if we caw and strut and flock to shiny things as crows do, no?"

Zevran bristled, but Leliana interceded quickly. « You're a long way from home, Shadow. What brings you to Ferelden? »

"Let us speak in Fereldan for the benefit of the Antivan, sister. You asked what brings us to Ferelden, and the answer is the Grey Wardens, of course. Such as they are." She smiled. "Or were."

"They are alive," Zevran snapped. "Both of them. Where did you get the poison from? Only the Crow masters know the recipe."

The Shadow tittered. It was a silly noise that grated at Leliana's ears. "Well. Then I suppose you know where we got it from, no?"

Zevran growled. "Who are you working for?"

"Ah, Shadows work for but one thing alone. Surely even you heard the tales in that whorehouse you grew up in, m'sieur Zevran of the House Arainai."

His amber eyes narrowed dangerously. "You are well informed, little Shadow."

"It is our business to know our targets. That includes their friends."

Leliana put a calming hand on Zevran's back. "What she says is true. You could perhaps think of the Shadows as bards, but much more; they work exclusively for the Empire itself. They are sown thoroughly in every level of court politics in Val Royeaux, and bring balance where it is necessary in the Game—the, mm, the play of thrones in Orlais. Something like the Crows, but far more diffuse. One can safely assume they are present in Orlais, even in one's own house, but you never know who they are. It is good that they never move without an order from the throne—but that does not explain why they are here, in Ferelden." She turned and addressed the Shadow directly. « Tell me, why is the Empress so concerned with the Fereldan Wardens? »

« It's none of your business, sister. » The Shadow smiled, baring white teeth. « The Empire knows exactly who you are. You should count yourself lucky that you're not our concern right now. »

Leliana swallowed as a chill ran down her spine. Zevran grabbed her wrist. "What, Leliana? What did she say?" he demanded. "Does the Shadow have the antidote or not?"

She shook her head, as much to clear it as to answer his question. "I...I am asking, Zevran. Please be patient."

"Daen is dying and you wish me to be patient. Qe brillanta."

"He is my friend, too, Zevran."

"He is—" Zevran closed his mouth with an audible click and set his jaw at a stubborn angle.

Leliana would have laughed at his expression if she could have. "We must talk later," she said, and turned to the Shadow, who had been observing their exchange with an artfully amused tilt in her eyes. "And do you have the antidote?"

"Mm." The elf tapped her teeth with her finger, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I know where it may be found. But our instructions were to finish the Wardens in Ferelden, not to cure them. So, no, I cannot help you with the antidote. But it was a nice try." She polished a fingernail with her thumb and smiled.

It was Leliana's turn to fix the Shadow with narrowed eyes. She didn't say that she does not have it—she is playing with us, she realized. Why would the Shadows be in Ferelden? It makes no sense. The ones we killed seemed barely trained. Nor do Shadows simply leave Val Royeaux. For the Empire to target one of the few people capable of ending the Blight—it just makes no sense, unless...

"You are not here on behalf of the throne," she said slowly. "You are working alone. You have been bought out—hired. Like a Crow. But by whom? And for what reason?"

The Shadow's smile didn't change, but her eyes hardened. She shifted her weight almost imperceptibly so that she stood balanced on one leg, the other angled behind her and her arms crossed over her chest. "That is an interesting conclusion to draw, sister."

Leliana crossed her arms as well and met the Shadow's leonine gaze squarely, saying nothing. The two women stood in their respective postures, staring at each other in silence. Zevran held his breath without realizing it, and let it go in a slow whistle of air.

"I am sure you realize that what you have done is in direct contradiction to your employ as a Shadow," Leliana purred. The threat in her voice was clear.

"And what might you do about it?" The Shadow raised her chin in arrogant defiance. "You are far from Orlais and the throne, sister. And there is nothing keeping me from killing you here, so far away as you are."

"I invite you to try. I know your sort. You have some training, yes, but it is in poisoning and glamours. Alone, you are no match for either me or a Crow."

"Mamen," the boy whispered, tucking his hand around the Shadow's knee and leaning into her leg. His other hand gripped her cloak, gathering folds of it into his little chest.

"Shh, Marsel. It will be all right."

"How old are you, child?" Leliana asked the boy. He glanced up at his mother as if asking for permission before holding up four fingers. "Have you heard of the great wizard Sketch?"

The boy squeaked and the Shadow's back stiffened slightly. "The wizard Sketch is merely a bedtime story. I have sung the songs often myself."

"Oh, no. He is very real. We traveled together for quite some time, as you would know if your employer had thought fit to inform you. I do not expect he thought you would live past your first attempt, however." Leliana smiled sweetly. "Sketch is great fodder for stories, you see, and I bring no credit to my profession if I do not have stories to tell. There are a few exaggerations, but I can assure you, you do not want to make an enemy of my friend Sketch. He can be very...creative when his friends are hurt. I was there when he lost a good friend of his, in a torture room where we had been imprisoned. I must say, Sketch made better use of the torture devices than the guards did themselves. But that was part of his attraction, I suppose."

"And how is this supposed to frighten me?"

"Ah, well, you see, Sketch and I were very...fond of each other. He gave this ring to me before we parted ways." Leliana pulled a glove off and lifted her hand. There was a simple gold ring sparkling on her index finger that Zevran had never seen before, and a cat's smile played across her full lips as she displayed it. "He said that he made it himself, and that it was a link between us—something that would let him feel what I felt, while it would let me do the same for him. I suppose it is magic of some sort. We feel each other perhaps every fortnight, and hear what each other is thinking. Now, the last time we met through the ring, he was in Orlais—Val Royeaux, to be exact, visiting the Chantry. The boy always talked about going to Val Royeaux to sit through the entire Chant, and I suppose that is what he was doing. He was enjoying himself quite a bit, as I recall, and feeling very much at peace." She peered at the Shadow. "Now, what do you suppose he will do when he next feels me through the ring?"

The Shadow's eyes were locked on the ring circling Leliana's finger, dancing through the air as she gestured with her tale.

"Perhaps he will wreak havoc in Val Royeaux, you are thinking. Unlikely, I must say, as he knows how much I love my beautiful city. Ah, but there are other possibilities—if he chooses to stay, he could tell the empress herself that one of her own Shadows has abased herself to the level of a mere assassin. Or perhaps he may come here, to find me—I am sure that he will have gotten a good image of you, or at least the children. Perhaps both? Hmm, but as I said, he is creative."

The boy tightened his grip on the Shadow's cloak, his eyes wide in the flickering firelight.

Leliana smiled kindly down at him. "Ah, Sketch does love to play with children."

"Enough." The Shadow slipped a hand across the boy's hair with the same gentle motion she had used while minding the fire as he slept. "What do you want?"

"The antidote, if you please."

"Take it." She lifted the hem of her cloak and pulled a slender glass rod, no longer than her smallest finger, from the fold at the edge.

Zevran stepped forward immediately and took the object from her as she extended it towards them. He examined it in his palm. It was a glass vial, with three tiny black pellets stacked neatly one on top of the other inside. He glanced at Leliana and nodded.

"Mersi, ma seur." Leliana inclined her head. "I realize it was a difficult decision for you."

The Shadow barked a laugh. "It was not difficult. I was generally informed of your past, sister. The money was good, but I escaped Val Royeaux to make a better life for my children." The Shadow jerked her head towards Zevran in a motion that could have been interpreted as a nod of thanks. "You did not have to rescue my littlest one as you did, m'sieur. You have my gratitude."

"They are both your children?" Leliana asked, surprised. "I have difficulty telling how old elves are, but you do not seem old enough to be a mother of two."

The Shadow's lips curved into a smirk. "I am an elf, and the role the Game chose for me was one of the few available to my kind. It also required that I make myself...available at unfortunate moments." She caressed her son's hair again. "This one I had when I was new to the Shadows. I was fourteen."

"The role chosen for you?" Zevran inquired. "I do not understand."

"Ah, the Shadows are not so different from you Crows. Many of us are elves, because we are the ones who may hide in plain sight under the noses of all the lords and ladies, in their kitchens, the stables, the laundries...their beds." Her mouth smiled, but her eyes did not. "But you Crows bid for your contracts. We cannot do that much. We play the parts we were given in the Game until we are called upon to act. But as we never know when we may be needed, we cannot leave our roles once they are entered into. It is how things are done in Orlais. Still, it is better than living in the alienage in Val Royeaux."

"And yet, here you are."

"I had no choice. I received word it was time for Marsel to train. In a few more years, it would have been Hel." Steel gathered in her eyes. "I was approached with a proposition that would get me well away from the Shadows and Val Royeaux. I accepted. The Game has taken much away from me, but this they will not. My children are mine. I bore them on my own. The Shadows will not have them."

"Very well. I can understand your decision," Leliana said soothingly. "But what I do not understand is why your employer targets the Wardens. The poison Zevran described, it seems to be a very well-guarded and expensive secret even among the Crows."

"There are...certain major players in the Game who are not happy with the empress. Some of these players have access to a house of Crows, and may have even utilized their services a few times in the Game itself. Depending on the rumors you listen to, you may come to believe that Empress Celene plans to align with Ferelden in a way that will elevate the dog lords to equal status with the citizens of Orlais. As you can imagine, this is a particularly distasteful prospect to those lords and ladies who remember the days before Celene's reign." The Shadow shrugged. "I cannot say more, but I would advise you to take care in Val Royeaux in the coming years. The balance of the Game is shifting."

"But can we expect any more attempts in the future?" Zevran asked.

"Oh, surely. The Wardens are at the center of a storm, m'sieur, and many unwelcome eyes are on them. A watchful eye is required, no more—which would include not sending an already soggy dwarf to purchase their spirits. All that I can say with great certainty is that you will not have to expect any more attempts from me."

"Well, it is a start," he snorted. "Hopefully we will not see your kind again. Tonight has not been a pleasant night."

The Shadow chuckled. "We have brothers and sisters observing the Ferelden thrones, too. You are likely to meet one soon, if your Wardens continue on to Denerim. Pass my greetings on to her, if you please. Her duties in Ferelden have been too great for her to come home, and I miss her dearly. Although, perhaps with the state of the dog lord throne nowadays, she may have reason to leave her mistress' side soon enough." Her slim hands beckoned to her son. "Come, darling. Let us get your sister. It is time for us to go."

"Is it wise to travel in the open with two children?" Leliana blurted. "The Blight is spreading. Perhaps you could come with us, at least until we reach Denerim; there is no safer way to travel in these times than with Grey Wardens."

Zevran snorted again. "If we still have any."

The Shadow laughed outright as she collected the toddler from the wagon bed. She lifted it easily and rested it on one narrow hip. The child curled its little arms around her slender neck and nestled its head of curls below her chin, its eyes drifting shut into an expression of peaceful bliss.

"I am touched, sister, but I do not think your Wardens will take kindly to having their poisoner travel among them."

"Daen might surprise you." Leliana let a smile touch her lips as she glanced at Zevran. "He allows the assassin to travel with us, after all."

"Mm. He allows more than just that, no?" the Shadow purred, and winked an azure eye at Zevran. He glowered back at her. "How sweet it would be to hear songs about them some day, sister. But for now, it is time for you and I to part ways. I have my ways of avoiding the darkspawn, do not fear. I thank you for your worry on behalf of my children, but I myself do not deserve it." She inclined her head. "I wish you luck with your Warden. If you hurry, he may still be saved—and I hope, for the Antivan's sake, that that is still possible."

"One moment," Zevran said suddenly. "It seems unfair to continue referring to you as 'the Shadow' when you are not one." Leliana looked at him in surprise. "Just as I no longer hold allegiance to House Arainai."

The two elves locked eyes for a brief moment, and it seemed as though they had finally understood one another. The Shadow gave a small smile—shy, uncertain, and the first genuine smile Leliana had seen on her face. "My name is Nicolet. Formerly of the Shadows, but among them I live no more. Should we meet again, 'Coe' will do. Fare well, sister and assassin."

"Ou voyu nis, mamen?" the boy asked, his face bright with adoration as he slipped his hand into the Shadow's and looked up at her.

Coe smiled down at him, the light in her eyes dimming the moon's as she wrapped the wings of her cloak about his shoulders. "We go where we go, p'tit coeur. The world is our journey, and we are our home. We need nothing more, no?"

The moon slid behind clouds as the trio turned to go, and they seemed to melt into shadow with a single step. A single ray of moonlight pierced its grey veil in the next heartbeat, but its pale fingers touched nothing but grass and the canvas of an abandoned wagon. They were gone.

"A very neat trick," Zevran remarked, removing his headcover with a deft motion. He rolled the precious bottle into the dark cloth and tucked the bundle safely into his belt pouch.

"Ah, well, they are called the Shadows for a reason."

"I was referring to your storytelling about the wizard."

"Mm, not one of my better performances, but fairly decent, no? Daen gave me the ring a long time ago—nothing special, he just thought I would like it. I had it in my belt and slipped it on while I took my glove off."

"And who is this great wizard Sketch?"

"An old friend of mine," she replied breezily. "I borrowed his name to make a hero for a few of my ballads once, and it was just luck that those little tunes became very popular throughout Orlais and some parts of Ferelden. Sketch has become something of a good luck charm for me. And his name has never failed to earn me quite a bit of coin when I needed it! I am sure he has profited likewise. A good reputation is a valuable thing to have."

He nodded brusquely. "Agreed. But we should return to the camp. The sooner, the better."

Orlesian: Behold, my elementary extrapolations of high school French!
Com' sa dir = "How do you say it"

M'sieur = sir, mister

Mamen = mother

Mersi, ma seur = "Thank you, sister"

Ou voyu nis, mamen? = "Where are we going, mother?" [slight alteration to avoid an embarrassing similarity to adjective for "naked"-hindsight's 20/20? -K, 12/01/2012]

P'tit coeur = lit. "little heart" (endearment)

Antivan:
Qe brillanta = that's incredibly astute of you (sarcastic)

I should reiterate that I haven't read any of the DA books beyond the DA Wiki entries and some interesting excerpts about Orlesian masks from Asunder, so I apologize if I got some elements—particularly the state of political affairs in Orlais—completely wrong.

Poor Sketch.

Until next time. -K