Eye of the Storm

by xseikax

The Blight has been ended and Ferelden is at peace. But a new threat is coming, and a cryptic warning sends two women in a desperate attempt to keep a little girl safe. And while they hide from their allies and seek out answers, the danger begins to come from every direction. Sequel to Eyes of a Stranger. AU Story

3. Chapter 3

II. White Rabbit

A light, warm, breeze, as soft as the touch of silk against the skin and carrying the fresh scent of pine and juniper, fluttered through the edges of the lush forest, rustling the dark emerald leaves with an airy dance. Ashara closed her eyes, as cozy as a newborn wrapped in fur, and leaned against the friendly rough bark of the graceful willow tree, who dipped its leaves into the calm river with a touch as light as a lover's caress.

Next to Ashara, where the sunlight pierced through the canopy of trees and drenched the soft grass with a comforting warmth, lay Kali, sprawled out on her back with her arms above her head as she soaked up the golden rays, as content as a kitten nestled on a pile of warm blankets.

It was a sunny, peaceful day; a lazy day. A day where the sun invigorated the skin and the soft breeze seemed to calm the mind. A day where even the animals seemed content to amble along slowly; where glittering dragonflies danced across the sparkling water and birds sang and chirped back and forth in the trees. The soft quacking of a family of ducks drifted back to the two women as they bobbed along the water, occasionally slipping their beaks in to catch a bug.

Ashara let out a contented sigh. She couldn't remember the last time she had ever had a day to just relax, to simply enjoy a sense of peace; to feel as if nothing could touch her or disturb this sense of harmony and serenity.

"Do you like it here, da'len?"

Ashara started at the voice and jerked open her eyes to see a stunningly beautiful Elvhen woman standing next to them, staring out over the sparkling water. The woman was as powerful and ancient as the majestic trees of the Brecilian Forest; rooted to the ground, yet giving the impression of always reaching towards the sky. Thick, dark hair cascaded down her slim shoulders, covering her naked torso in shining strands that seemed to catch the light and glimmer with a golden hue. Her skin was dark, as brown as the deep fresh soil of the earth after a night of rain, and her waist was covered with a wrapping of emerald green vines and leaves, curling around her body as if molded to her skin.

Ashara recognized this woman, though she hadn't seen her in years. But, how could one forget the face of such a powerful being? "Sylaise," she whispered reverently. Kali immediately jumped to her feet, staring at the woman in awe, but Ashara got up a bit more slowly, unsure of what she was supposed to say or do. This was Sylaise, the Goddess of the Forest, one of the powerful Creators that watched over the Elvhen.

The goddess turned her head to look at Ashara and Kali with a glint of joy in her moss-colored eyes and the barest curl of a smile on her dark lips. "Aneth ara, da'len."

Ashara and Kali could do nothing but stare dumbly at this beautiful and powerful Creator. Sylaise noted their confusion and let out a lyrical laugh that echoed through the trees with a ring of joyous life. They all heard the chatter of birds as they sang in reply. "Did you think I had forgotten either of you?" Sylaise reached out a hand and, with a long brown finger, as graceful as the branches of a tree, lightly touched the vallaslin woven around Ashara's neck; the swirling tattoo of vines and leaves. "You wear my symbol, after all. As does your sister." Her glittering eyes, shaded with depths of mystery, traveled to Kali's left shoulder, where the same design swirled over her golden skin.

Ashara felt herself freeze at the barest hint of the goddess' power. Even this light touch made Ashara feel as though sparks had hit her skin. She swallowed nervously. "Goddess... er, Creator, I mean..."

Sylaise let out another delighted laugh. "Call me by my name, daughter."

Kali's eyes were almost double their size as she gaped in awe. "You're... I mean, Sylaise! You're really standing here!"

The goddess seemed to find Kali's shock extremely amusing. "Is it such a strange idea that I would wish to visit my daughters?" She turned her head away from them and looked out over the clear blue water sparkling under the vibrant sun. "There was a time when I could visit my children whenever I desired. My brothers and sisters and I would dance at your festivals and play with your da'len. But, no more." The pain and longing in her voice was so palpable it made Ashara want to cry.

"Why?" Kali whispered.

Sylaise turned her face, as grave and lovely as a marble statue, towards the little rogue. "We are trapped, da'len. Surely you know of what happened."

Kali flushed a dull shade of pink. "Oh, um... yes... I—I know the story of Fen'Harel."

A bright smile suddenly broke out on the goddess' face as if she didn't care to dwell on Fen'Harel, making her look like an exuberant young woman. She waved a long arm towards the shimmering river. "So tell me, da'len, do you like it here?"

"It's beautiful," Ashara said slowly. Beside her, Kali nodded eagerly.

Sylaise held out a finger; at once a glimmering dragonfly hovered over, its wings sparkling in the light. The goddess smiled at it before raising her hand and sending it on its way. "This is my home in the Beyond, my own imitation of the mortal forests; my place to stay until I am able to walk on land once more. I wished for you both to see it." The longing crept into her voice again. "Yet, for all our efforts, however beautiful we make the Beyond, it always seems to pale next to our mother's creations in the mortal world."

Kali bit her bottom lip and looked around in confusion. "So... this is real, then? We're actually here?"

The goddess tilted her head. "Yes and no, da'len. There are worlds upon worlds and, asleep or awake, you experience them beyond your mortal senses." She smiled her ageless smile. "This is the Beyond, the place where I call my home. I am a Creator; I have the power to call your spirits here while you sleep."

Ashara frowned, feeling a bit unsettled. "May I ask why you called us here, Cr... I mean, Sylaise?"

At once the goddess' face dissolved into sorrow, her eyes so filled with pain that it almost hurt to look at her. Her ability to flicker between such powerful emotions was as amazing as it was confusing. "There comes a time when the fates of mortals and gods combine. But, such time is fleeting, and the opportunities it presents are rare. There is such a chance approaching, a moment in which time may be altered and history forever changed."

Ashara and Kali exchanged a puzzled glance. Neither of them could understand what the goddess was talking about. "What do you mean?" Ashara finally asked.

Sylaise's eyes traveled over the vallaslin on Ashara's neck and Kali's shoulder. "You both wear my symbol proudly on your skin. You profess your love for me to the world. Such an outward show of devotion must surely be rewarded, and so I shall tell you a step in the dance that will eventually come to pass."

Ashara's uncertainty was only growing; she had no idea what it was Sylaise was talking about. She glanced at Kali and saw that the little rogue looked almost as bewildered as she did. Sylaise was no longer warm and talkative as before. She was detached and regal, the very essence of the forest she resided in; mercurial and mysterious.

"The time has come for the sword and shield to act." Her dark green eyes rested on Ashara. "You must answer the call in your blood. The moment is at hand for you to follow the path of your ancestors and walk amongst the ancient land."

"Walk the path of my ancestors?" Ashara repeated. The only path that she could think of was the Long Walk, when the Elvhen had made the long journey to the Dales after the Imperium had been destroyed and the shemlen had agreed to give them land of their own. "Am I supposed to go to the Dales?"

Sylaise inclined her head in an ambiguous gesture which could have meant either yes or no. Ashara suddenly felt as though she was standing before the Keeper; she recognized the movement from Marethari and guessed that Sylaise was waiting for her to give the correct answer. Yet aside from the Dales, the only ancient land Ashara could think of was... "Arlathan?" The goddess smiled and Ashara shook her head, more in bewilderment than refusal. "I don't understand. No one's been to Arlathan in years; I don't even know if the forest is passable. Why am I to go there?"

But, Sylaise's only answer was to turn her eyes to Kali. "And you, little one. Have you not thought that perhaps you might like to live among your own people? You shut yourself away in stone walls and walk among the humans, but would you not enjoy the chance to slip your roots into the ground and find your home?"

Ashara got the sense that Sylaise was hinting towards something important, but for the life of her she had no idea what that might be. Kali bit her bottom lip. "Do you mean my family?" She hesitated. "I guess... I mean I haven't been to the Alienage in a long time."

"I speak of your true people," Sylaise said gently. She reached out and delicately traced the vallaslin woven around Kali's left shoulder; Ashara saw the little rogue shudder. "The people that welcomed you, who brought you closer to the Creators that love you, who made you feel at home."

"The Dalish?" Kali asked, her brows furrowed together quizzically. "I could go to the Brecilian Forest. But,why?"

The goddess' smile widened. "The Brecilian Forest is not the only place to find the Elvhenan."

There was a silence for a time, as Kali stared at Sylaise. Finally, she whispered, "Do you mean Ashara's Clan in Kirkwall?"

Sylaise raised her head and looked between Ashara and Kali. "Your love for me has been rewarded by these two tasks I have provided to you. There is a purpose, one that will become apparent in time." She stepped back from the two women and raised her arms. Ashara could feel the edges of the Beyond begin to flicker and shift. "I have told you what you must do," she continued. "It is now your turn to act."

Before either one of them got a chance to say anything, to ask more questions or call out to the goddess, the ground was suddenly swept out from beneath them, and Ashara and Kali were falling.

With a start, Ashara jerked open her eyes and sat up in the large, comfortable bed in her room at Vigil's Keep. As she slowly became accustomed to the darkness, she looked around the quiet, calm room. The last of the embers were slowly dying in the fireplace, the windows were shut tightly, and the silence was thick. Everything was as it should be; nothing was out of place.

Ashara took in a deep breath to steady her nerves and looked down at Tamlen, fast asleep next to her, quietly muttering hunting instructions. She ran a hand through his dark gold hair and let out another breath.

What in Mythal's name was that dream about? Ashara hadn't seen Sylaise since the Blight, almost seven years ago. What had caused the goddess to call her again, and this time with Kali? And, what was that remark about Ashara traveling to Arlathan? There was nothing there. Everyone knew that the great Elvhen city had been destroyed by the Magisters, swallowed up whole and trapped underground.

Something about this whole situation was sending chills down Ashara's spine. She felt uneasy, but couldn't figure out why. Sylaise would never lead her or Kali astray. She was the gentle Goddess of the Forest, the Creator who loved all living things. So why, then, did Ashara feel so anxious?

Perhaps she should talk about the dream with Kali. She'd have to wait until they had a moment when they were both free, but Ashara knew it was something she needed to discuss. It was a serious matter to disobey a Creator when they gave a task. Ashara could no more ignore Sylaise's request than she could walk into the Chantry and bend a knee to the Maker. But, she could hardly just leave her responsibilities and travel to Arlathan Forest.

With a sigh of defeat, Ashara lay back down on the bed, piled the blankets over her and snuggled next to Tamlen, drawing comfort from the familiar feel of his body next to hers. But, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get warm all night.

oOo

The court was to begin their progress around the country at the beginning of Bloomingtide and, for the entire month of Cloudreach, the nobles were in a flurry of preparation. No one wished to be left behind in Denerim while the King and Queen traveled; who knew what might happen? What if the King decided that a bann was not taking proper care of his people, and a new position might become available for any of the land grubbing nobles present? Perhaps, what with all the feasting and dancing, a pretty daughter might even catch the eye of a powerful noble, and a betrothal could be arranged to advance the family.

It was still a new idea, an exotic and novel chance for the nobles to gain land, money, or advance their family. The Queen, Kira, had seen it done in Orlais. Every summer, Empress Celene would travel round the country, showing her face to the common people, dispensing justice and taking an active hand in the running of the realm. Kira's father had always told her that that was how a monarch made the people feel comfortable in the solidity of the Crown. It showed them that their King or Queen was happy and healthy, secure in their wealth and power. That was how the people felt assured in the steadiness of their rulers.

Kira had introduced the idea to Ferelden when she came to the throne, and it seemed as though the people enjoyed having monarchs that presented an approachable face. She and Alistair would, during the summer and autumn months, travel through Ferelden, visiting with the nobles and showing their faces to the commoners. They would put on plays and masques, celebrate Funalis and Satinalia with some of the villages, and then come home for the winter and spring months.

Kira sat at the large wooden desk in the solar, shifting through the numerous records and letters, the details of what each noble wished to bring on progress, and lists of their goods. The nobles each had to have their own tapestries and bedding for the grand estates they stayed in. They had to have their own horses which then needed to have stables provided, and their own servants that would have to have room and board. They had to bring their own tables and chairs, their own plates and dishes with their own family crests. Each noble family wanted to show off their wealth and grandiosity to the great castles the court stayed at. Every bann and lady wanted to preen in their own vanity.

It was Kira's job to ensure that they didn't cause too much of a strain on the grand estates they would visit. She had her records detailing the size of each grand castle, how many servants they commanded, how many rooms they had available. She was to ensure that they didn't tax their hosts too much.

She marked off minute checks next to the lists the nobles had sent her, dictating the information to a clerk who scribbled furiously on his writing desk, consolidating everything into one grand list for Kira's reference.

"And, please, remind Arl Bryland that his daughter absolutely cannot bring her entire chest of clothes," Kira remarked, her eyes scanning the letter Lady Habren had sent. She scoffed and tossed the letter aside. "I do not care how many dresses she claims to need; there is no need for her to change her gown three times in one day. Last summer, she commandeered an entire cart just for her clothing! We cannot have that."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the clerk replied, jotting down the mark.

"You're going to make me look bad, you know, what with all this work you're doing."

Kira lifted her head from the pile of letters and smiled to see Alistair standing in the doorway with his lovable, charming grin on his face. The clerk immediately sketched a bow and mumbled greetings, but Kira set the quill on its stand and sat back in her chair with an air of pride. "Well, one of us must concern ourselves with the business of the realm," she teased. "We cannot all play at sports with the knights."

Alistair laughed at that and waved a finger at her. "I'll have you know that our knights are now well prepared for anything that might occur, thanks to my constant diligence." Kira put a hand over her mouth to cover her giggle, and Alistair's eyes twinkled mischievously. He swept her a low, courtly bow. "Now, milady, I believe it is time for the evening meal. Would you allow me the pleasure of escorting you to the high table?"

Unable to keep a straight face, Kira stood up from the desk and smoothed down the front of her gown before holding out her hand regally to her husband. "Since you ask it so charmingly, how can I possibly say no to such a handsome man?"

He led her from the room and cleared his throat as they walked down the gallery covered with portraits of King Maric, Queen Rowan, and King Cailan. "There was something I did want to ask you about."

"Yes?"

"I received another letter from Knight-Commander Meredith—you know, from the Kirkwall Circle—complaining about the number of mages that have been made welcome in Ferelden." He chuckled. "She's not exactly what I would call a subtle woman; she's threatening action if the mages aren't returned."

Kira fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Has she ever stopped to ask herself why the mages of Kirkwall are escaping to Ferelden?"

Alistair beamed at her. "I doubt it. If anyone is full of righteous anger, it's her. People like that generally don't tend to wonder about their own actions. However, they do have a remarkable talent for judging everyone else. It's shocking, really."

"And, I assume the Viscount still remains adamant that he wishes to stay neutral? That he cannot do anything to provoke Meredith's ire?"

"Of course. But, the big problem is that now Grand Cleric Aceline is now offering up her opinion—unasked for, I might add—that we should send the mages back to Kirkwall to avoid problems with their templars."

Kira let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Of course she would say that," she mumbled. "Well, it does not matter. We are not going to hand over those mages simply because the Knight-Commander demands it. She holds no command over us."

Alistair nodded solemnly. "I thought the same thing. But, what if this causes problems with the Chantry?"

"We are all good servants of Andraste. It does not matter where the mages are, so long as they are in a secure place that can teach them how to cultivate their magic; where they can learn the responsibilities of their Maker-given gift." Kira frowned. "Furthermore, Greagoir has passed along some of the stories the mages from Kirkwall have told him of Meredith's harsh ways. I would not send a horse to her, let alone a mage."

"I agree," Alistair said. "But, you know, I'm the one who's going to have to send the announcement to both Meredith and the Grand Cleric." He shook his head. "I should make you do it. That way they can all be mad at you rather than me."

Kira chuckled and slid a hand up his arm. "Unfortunately, love, that is the price one pays for marrying an Orlesian woman and putting her on the throne of Ferelden."

He grinned and planted a light kiss on her shoulder. "A price worth paying."

The two of them entered the Great Hall to a flourish of music. As they walked down the center of the room to their table, Kira smiled to see the deep bows of the nobles already gathered. She had been at the Ferelden court for six years now, long enough to know that those bows were more for Alistair rather than her, but it was good to see that they respected their king.

Alistair had become far more popular than anyone would have guessed. He was kind to anyone who approached him, whether noble or common, and had an easy charm that made everyone around him glad to do him some little service or task. And, although it was Kira who generally dealt with the business of the realm, over these past years Alistair had learned everything he needed to know about how to govern a country. He impressed the nobles with his interest in their tenets, and held the respect of the soldiers for his work against the Blight and his willingness to train with them.

In addition, despite all of Kira's hard work for Ferelden, she had enough sense to hide her duties under a veil of wifely devotion in public. Whenever there were eyes upon her—especially if they were noble eyes—Kira always presented a demure face to those around. It showed the world that, although Ferelden had an Orlesian Queen on their throne, she would always defer to their Fereldan King. Over the past few years, it seemed to help stem the whispers of those who claimed that she would hand their kingdom to the Empress.

Of course, it was all show. In private, Alistair often asked for her opinion on everything from what theme they should have at a festival or dance, to matters of foreign policy or trade. The servants, or those close to the throne, knew the reality, but Kira didn't mind the facade so long as it kept the nobles from igniting fears about her nationality.

They sat at the head of the table, and Alistair nodded that the servants could begin bringing out the meal. Regina, Kira's favorite maid, brought her a plate piled high with fresh fruit and warm bread, set it on the table and sketched an informal curtsey.

Kira smiled at the young elf. "Thank you, Regina."

"You are welcome, my Lady." Regina gave another curtsey to Alistair before fluttering off to join the rest of Kira's ladies at their table, a mixture of humans and elves.

Kira could not contain her joy at seeing humans and elves sitting side-by-side at her and Alistair's court. If there was one thing she was proud of during the reign she and Alistair shared, it was that. They did everything they could to ensure that humans and elves were treated as equals and, although it was far from perfect, it was still encouraging to think of how far they had come.

She glanced down the long table she sat at to see the Bann of the Denerim Alienage, Shianni, sitting next to her husband Nelaros. Over the six years she had been a member of the Landsmeet, Shianni had quickly grown popular amongst the elves, who saw her as their chance to improve their lot in life. She had a habit of shocking the nobles with her blunt and forward speech, but Kira had taken an odd liking to the fiery redhead.

Thanks to her matter-of-fact description of the Alienage, Kira and Alistair had been quick to hire builders to patch the walls and to decree publicly that humans could no longer own any property that rightfully belonged to the elves. With Shianni as their Bann, the elves could now own businesses in their own right, and make decisions for themselves.

A few nobles had squeaked at the idea of losing some of their property, but they didn't complain too loudly. It helped matters that, with proper training, the elves brought a lot of profit to Denerim. Their seamstresses surpassed anything a human woman could make, and their carpenters were growing famous for their craft. Shianni often joked it was because elves had nimble fingers that helped them work.

A fine legacy we are building, Kira thought sadly, if only we had a child to come after us. She lowered her eyes and took a sip of her spiced wine. Six years she and Alistair had been trying to conceive a child, and so far they had nothing to show for it. They were realistic enough to know that it was perhaps hopeless; she and Alistair both had the darkspawn taint flowing in their veins. They might not be Wardens any longer, but the effects of the Joining remained the same.

Yet, Ashara had been able to conceive a child after undergoing the Joining. It was not impossible for a Warden to get pregnant. Kira tore some of the bread on her plate apart, but didn't take a bite. She wondered—as she often did when she thought of the barren throne—if it had really been a wise choice to marry Alistair. She loved him with a passion that had endured through the years, and she couldn't deny that she did enjoy being Queen. She was in a position to make the country a little bit better, and to help bring peace between Ferelden and Orlais.

But, every year that her womb remained empty, she saw the nobles watch her a bit more critically and heard their whispers grow a little bit louder. There was even talk that Arl Eamon would perhaps approach Alistair with the idea of putting her aside, as he had once intended to do with King Cailan. Although Alistair no longer trusted him as he once did, nothing would halt the man's meddling. And part of Kira could not blame him. For, however peaceful and wealthy the country, what would happen without an heir to follow?

Alistair would never put her aside; she did know that. He loved her. But, the fact remained that she was in her thirtieth year; her fertile years were slipping away, if she was ever fertile to begin with. Soon, they would have to face the reality: they would never make a child to follow them on the throne.

So, what then? Even if Alistair refused to put her aside, they still needed someone to come after them, or else the nobles would wage another civil war over the Crown. She and Alistair would have to cast their eyes around Ferelden and search for an heir. Perhaps the most suitable, and sensible, choice would be to speak with Teagan, Alistair's Chancellor and best friend, about his coming child. Kira looked around the room and saw his pregnant wife, Kaitlyn, seated next to him with her hand over her round stomach.

Their child would be as good of birth as Queen Rowan; indeed the child would be her niece or nephew. He or she would not have Theirin blood, but it would be from a strong Ferelden family, a family that had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with King Maric when he fought for the throne. Yes, perhaps she should speak with Alistair about the possibility of approaching Teagan and Kaitlyn to ask if they would allow it.

"So, my Queen," Alistair said softly, breaking into her thoughts, "I'm thinking of going out for a ride after this. We received some new horses from Orlais—a gift from your cousin, the Empress—and I'd like to see how they are. Would you like to join me?"

Kira smiled pleasantly, aware that all eyes were on them, as was often the case when they dined publicly. "I should like to join you, my lord," she said, taking care to sound demure and sweet.

Alistair smiled mischievously; he knew the part she had to play in public, and loved to tease her about it in private. "Then hurry up and finish eating! Maybe this time we can outpace everyone else and catch an hour or two to ourselves."

She covered her mouth to hide her giggle at his naughty wink. "I am sure we can."

oOo

Kali walked around the gathered Warden rogues in the training yard of Vigil's Keep, watching with a keen eye as they struggled to hold their throwing knives correctly. Every so often she would stop and adjust an arm here, or a grip there. "We're going for speed here," she reminded them, "which is why we're using lighter knives. You don't want to grip it too tightly; you want to pinch the knife with your thumb and index finger."

Once all five of them were holding the knives properly, Kali moved on to the correct stance. Pulling out one of the small knives from the belt around her waist, she walked in front of them. "Now, watch me." She got into the proper stance, and turned her head to look back at them to make sure they were watching closely. "See how my left foot is in front while my right foot is in back? That's because I'm going to throw with my right hand. If you're left handed, you want to do the opposite. Make sure that both of your knees are bent, and take care that most of your weight is on the ball of your back foot.

"Now, watch how I throw the knife." She held both arms out straight towards the training target, set about twenty feet away. Then, trying to keep her movements sharp and clear to the Wardens watching, she drew back her right arm, pausing for a few seconds so that they could see that the knife was even with her ear. When swinging her arm forward, she tried to make it obvious that her weight was shifting towards the front foot. Once the knife was in line with the target she quickly let go, snapping her fingers together and letting her arm continue with its movement.

They all watched the blade bury itself right inside the center mark, and Kali turned around to the other Wardens. "There are a couple of things to note. First, it's very important to follow through with the movement even though you've thrown the knife. Second, don't just flail your arm out; make sure that you keep in control of your muscles to keep the movement smooth. If you don't, you'll end up pulling something. Third, make sure that your wrist stays stiff the whole time."

The Wardens nodded eagerly, and Kali smiled at their fervent behavior. "Okay, we're going to practice the movements a few times before you actually start throwing the knives. Otherwise, you'll end up hitting everything except the targets."

They began to practice the stance and correct movements while Kali walked around. She was pleased to see that they had paid close attention and learned quickly; after a few minutes she decided to let them try actually throwing the knives. One at a time, they each tried to throw the knife properly, and Kali was proud at their accuracy. Although they didn't hit the center, each of them managed to hit the targets.

Of course, they were all feeling proud and much more confident, and Kali beamed at them all. "See? Having the correct stance can do wonders. Let's try it again."

They practiced a few more times—each time getting better and better—when Kali noticed Zevran walking down into the courtyard, waving at her to try and catch her attention. She turned back to the Wardens. "Go ahead and try it one more time, and then take a short break. I'll be right back."

She walked over to Zevran, who had turned his attention to the practicing Wardens. Kali saw him put on his seductive smile as he turned to her. "I am sorry to interrupt your training; it is delicious to see you instructing the rogues, my little Warden." He lowered his voice to an intimate whisper. "You are so... dare I say... commanding."

Kali, who after six years was only too used to Zevran's flirtatious comments, sniffed and turned her head away as if his sly voice didn't still send her stomach into a flurry of butterflies. "They need a firm hand," she said, widening her eyes innocently.

Zevran's eyes danced at her comment. "I can think of someone else who needs a firm hand."

Unable to keep a straight face any longer, Kali laughed. "Sorry, but I do need to keep up with their training. I want them to be comfortable with throwing knives before we meet with the Dalish next month to try and settle this argument between them and the human villages. You'll have to wait until this evening."

"I will hold you to that promise," he said cheerfully. "However, I did come for another reason. Our charming Keeper is in her study, and asked that I come fetch you."

"Oh, is something wrong?" It wasn't like Ashara to stay shut up in her study during the daylight hours. She preferred instead to come outside in the sunlight and take an active part of Warden training or business. Usually she only answered letters after the evening meal.

"I do not know. She simply asked if I would find you."

Kali nodded and followed Zevran up the stairs and into the Keep. As they walked through the halls and passed by the kitchens, her attention was caught by Anyu and Seith, the two Dalish children, exiting the kitchens with plates piled high with apple dumplings and their faces covered with syrup. When they saw Kali and Zevran, they immediately froze like frightened deer, their eyes wide; guilt in every pore.

"What are you two doing?" Kali said in exasperation, frowning at the two children. "Anyu, you know Ashara doesn't like you eating sweets so early! And Seith, I doubt Tiatha would be pleased either!" She put her hands on her hips. "Besides, aren't you both supposed to be helping Sigrun today? What are you doing in the kitchens?"

"Um..."

Before Anyu had time to think of a way out—or to play on Kali's soft spot for her—Sigrun walked out of the kitchens calmly, as messy as the children, with her own plate of apple dumplings. When she saw Kali and Zevran she stopped short, a mirror image of the caught children.

"Sigrun!" Kali threw up her hands, torn between laughter and frustration. "I thought you were supposed to be helping with the horses today! What are you doing?"

The dwarf waved her off. "We deserved a break." She winked at the two children. "Didn't we? Besides, these apples aren't going to last forever, and that cook, Brielle, makes dumplings fit for the Ancestors. Better to eat them now while they're fresh."

Zevran laughed. "You know, for a dead woman you seem to cause a remarkable amount of trouble."

Sigrun rolled her eyes and raised herself up to her full height—which was only barely taller than the two children—looking awfully dignified for a member of the Legion of the Dead. "Excuse us, but we have apple dumplings to eat before they get cold. You're interrupting."

Kali couldn't help but laugh. "You've been spending way too much time around Gwen and Nathaniel. All right, I give up. Go eat your dumplings. Just make sure Ashara doesn't catch you tempting the children away from their work or else, instead of just brushing down the horses, you'll be forced to clean out the stables for a week."

Sigrun grinned at that and turned to the children. "You heard the Second, nuggets. Let's go eat fast before our Commander catches us and we're all in trouble!"

The three of them scampered off, giggling over their triumph as they tried to balance their plates. Kali and Zevran exchanged a look and shook their heads, unable to keep from laughing.

Still chuckling, they continued up the stairs to Ashara's study, the room she used to organize and answer the constant stream of messages that came to her as the Warden-Commander. Kali looked at the pile of letters on the desk and thought, not for the first time, that she was grateful to be Second. She wouldn't even begin to know how to answer all of the formal letters, although she knew that Ashara wasn't exactly what one would call diplomatic in her responses.

As usual, the large window was thrown open to catch as much light and wind as possible, and the fireplace was strewn with herbs Ashara had collected over the years. Their scent gave the Kali the impression of standing in a forest right after a night of rain. Ashara had never gotten used to the feeling of being surrounded by stone walls, and did everything she could to make the place feel like her true home among the Dalish.

Kali looked at Ashara and Tamlen standing over the desk and had the strange thought that, no matter how long the two of them lived with the Wardens, their hearts belonged in the wilds with their kin. They might address humans as friendly as they would the Dalish and don Warden armor, but Kali had the sudden thought that it was only a matter of time before they went back to their own people.

She shook her head to clear herself of such weird ideas, and for the first time noticed a strange elf standing in Ashara's study with his back to the small fire. He noticed Kali's eyes on him and jerked his head in something of a nod.

Kali frowned; he looked really familiar. He had dark hair and a lazy expression on his face, but sharp eyes that seemed to miss nothing. Kali knew she had seen him before, but for the life of her she couldn't place it.

Ashara must have noticed Kali's puzzled look, since she waved her hand at the stranger. "Kali, Zevran, you remember Gavan, don't you? He's Leliana's... friend. The one who helped us during the Blight and brought Kira and Aric into Ferelden."

"Oh! That's right!" Kali reached out and shook his hand. "It's nice to see you again, Gavan. How have you been?"

Gavan gave her a tired smile and nodded politely at Zevran. "Oh, pretty good. Been running some errands and scouting information for some of the Orlesian nobles. The Grand Game is a lucrative business if you know how to exploit it."

"Indeed it is," Zevran said merrily. "I imagine one can make quite a bit of money if they play their hand correctly."

Gavan nodded. "I forgot you were a Crow. You'd know all about it then, eh?"

"Quite right. Although I never had the pleasure of participating myself, I do know that the Crows tend to enjoy playing one noble off another, if only because they pay well."

"So, what brings you to Ferelden?" Kali asked when the two men grew silent.

Gavan inclined his head towards Ashara, who exchanged a glance with Tamlen before clearing her throat. "He brought me a letter from Leliana; I think you might want to read it." She handed the letter to Kali.

"Leliana?" Kali was confused; they hadn't heard from Leliana for over a year. Occasionally, she liked to send them news of Orlais and greetings, as one old friend to another, and generally Ashara responded in the same vein, but Leliana had never before sent anything terribly important.

She scanned the letter, her eyes widening as she read it. Then, she looked at it again, unsure of whether she had read it correctly. "Why does Leliana want to meet with you? What happened?"

They all looked at Gavan, who shrugged. "She didn't tell me anything. All I know is that the Seekers were asking her some questions about the Blight."

"The Blight?" Ashara asked, as swiftly as a soldier drawing his blade. "What do they want to know about the Blight?"

Gavan shook his head. "She didn't tell me, I swear. All I know is that they were asking her about the Blight, and that as soon as they were done questioning her, she gave me the letter and made me swear to put it in your hands alone."

Ashara was silent for a minute. Then, she looked at Leliana's friend. "Did you read the letter?"

He didn't even blink. "Of course."

She nodded as if she wasn't in the least bit surprised. "What did you think when you read it?"

"I thought it was a big deal to ask the Warden-Commander to leave Ferelden, especially since, as this note implies, you'd have to come into the country in secret." He straightened up. "But, I also know that Leliana wouldn't ask something like this if she didn't think it was important."

"I am inclined to agree with Gavan," Zevran said. "Leliana is no fool. Where does she ask to meet you?"

"I assume Halamshiral," Ashara replied.

Kali tilted her head. "She said the greatest city of Orlais. Wouldn't that be Val Royeaux?"

Ashara waved her comment aside. "Halamshiral was the capital of the Dales, the greatest city since Arlathan fell. It's saturated in ancient magic and the beautiful craftsmanship of our ancestors. Surely that's greater than anything shemlen could create."

Gavan choked on a laugh. "Andraste's ass, Leliana must know you better than I thought. I wondered why she put such an obvious thing in the letter."

"I'm sure you're tired after your journey, Gavan," Ashara said suddenly. "Why don't you go down to the kitchens and get something to eat? I'll tell Seneschal Varel to get a room ready for you." Gavan didn't bother to question why she wanted to get him out of the room; instead he just nodded and left without another word.

As soon as he was gone, Ashara bit her thumbnail and turned to stare out the window. "This worries me. Leliana is questioned by the Seekers about the Blight, and then sends a message asking me to come to Orlais and meet her."

Tamlen leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. "What could the Seekers possibly want to know about the Blight?"

Ashara turned from the window. "You know the Chantry isn't happy with us, emma'lath. We had to conscript every single mage that has joined the Wardens, and I don't think the Grand Cleric is every going to forgive me for conscripting Anders; especially since he abandoned us for Kirkwall and the Chantry has no idea where he is."

"But, what could they hope to find?" Kali asked.

"I might have an idea," Zevran said. They all turned to look at him. "You told me that a Grey Warden is supposed to die when they kill the Archdemon, yes? Yet Morrigan performed a ritual with Alistair that enabled her to conceive a child that possesses the soul of the Archdemon, one that also kept you alive. Could the Chantry have discovered this?"

Tamlen shook his head. "I doubt it. If the Seekers had found Morrigan and her child, I'm sure we would have heard about that by now."

"I agree," Ashara said. "Besides us, the only people who know are Morrigan, Alistair, and Kira; and Kira doesn't even know the full extent of it. Alistair and Kira would never say anything, and Morrigan is nothing if not crafty. I'm sure she's been able to keep well hidden. Even the Dalish haven't seen any sign of her."

"They've been looking?" Zevran asked.

Ashara looked a bit sheepish. "Not looking, exactly. But, I asked them to tell me if they see some sign of her. I just thought... I'd like to know how she's doing."

Kali frowned as the others kept trying to dissect what the Seekers might be asking about. She tried to listen to them, but she couldn't seem to ignore a flutter of anxiety that was settling into her stomach. Something was wrong. She felt... afraid, almost.

She bit her bottom lip and stared at the small fire as if she could find an answer from the dying flames. What did she have to be afraid of? It shouldn't matter if the Seekers were asking questions about the Blight. The Chantry didn't have any rights over the Grey Wardens. Even if the Seekers tried to enforce domination over them, Kira and Alistair would defend them. It wasn't like the Wardens at Vigil's Keep were friendless.

Even the First Warden at Weisshaupt didn't have any control over them. Over these past six years, it had been clearly established that the Fereldan Grey Wardens looked after themselves. Occasionally, Ashara would receive messages from the Wardens of Nevarra or Antiva to exchange thoughts and ideas and, on very rare occasions, some of the foreign Wardens came for a visit, or asked if they could scout in the Deep Roads. But, for the most part, Ferelden stood by itself and the First Warden had given up trying to lord it over them.

So what, then, did they have to fear from the Chantry?

"Kali!"

Startled by Ashara's voice, Kali jumped and looked around to see the other three staring at her. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't hear what you said."

"I was telling Tamlen and Zevran about our dream the other night, where Sylaise came to speak with us. Do you remember it?"

"Oh, um, actually, I—I do." Kali hesitated. "I just... I thought it was just me. So, then, it was real? That was actually one of the Creators?"

Ashara nodded. "Yes, that was real. I was waiting for a chance to talk to you about it, but with all the preparation for traveling to the Brecilian Forest, I hadn't gotten a chance." She turned an anxious face to Tamlen and Zevran. "Sylaise told us that since we loved her, she was going to give us tasks."

Zevran raised an eyebrow. "She rewards you with work?"

"There's more to it than that," Ashara retorted. "To my knowledge, it's been years since any of the Elvhen have been given tasks by one of the Creators. Just speaking to us is an honor beyond what any Dalish could hope for." She bit her thumbnail. "Sylaise told me to go to Arlathan and Kali to go to our Clan in Kirkwall."

The swirling tattoo on Tamlen's forehead twitched irritably. "Why would she tell you to do that?"

Ashara twisted away from the desk and began pacing like a caged animal. "I don't know, but I'm starting to get worried. I just... Sylaise tells us to go do something..." Ashara waved the letter. "And, now, Leliana is asking me to leave Ferelden and visit her in Orlais. The timing just seems too... convenient."

"So, what should we do?" Tamlen asked with concern. "You can't disobey a Creator. But, should we go see Leliana?"

"I don't know," Ashara admitted. "Leliana was trustworthy and a good friend while we fought against the Blight but, it's been six years since we've seen her, and she's still a member of the Chantry. What if this is some trick to get us into Orlais?" She twisted the long strands of her black hair around her fingers. "Part of me thinks we should do what Sylaise said; if Tamlen and I do go to Arlathan Forest, we could travel through Orlais and meet with Leliana."

She paused in her agitated pacing. "But, this isn't a small thing. If we do this, we'd have to abandon our Wardens, our people, everything. Can we really do that?"

Kali felt her skin grow cold at the suggestions. Zevran glanced at her and put an arm around her shoulders. "No one will make this choice lightly, mi querida. If you go, so do I, but we will explore all options first."

"What should we do?" Kali whispered to no one in particular.

It was Ashara who answered. She raised her head up, looking once again like the determined leader that had brought them against the Blight. "If Sylaise really has a task for us, we'd be stupid not to do what she says. Angering a Creator isn't exactly the smartest thing in the world. But... we can't just abandon everything. I'll have to go to the Beyond and see if I can call her, especially now that she brought me to her corner. I should be able to find my way back."

She turned to Tamlen and Zevran. "You two need to go pay a visit to the Chantry in Amaranthine. If the Seekers really are asking questions about the Blight, I imagine the Chantry here will know about it." Her face darkened. "For all we know, they might actually be keeping an eye on us."

"Is that possible?" Kali asked. "Could they be watching us without us knowing about it?"

Zevran frowned thoughtfully. "It is doubtful, but not entirely impossible."

Tamlen nodded. "Especially since there are many people here who regularly visit them. They might be offering up information about us without even knowing it."

"All I know is that I don't trust the Chantry any more than I would Fen'Harel," Ashara stated. "If the Chantry does know something, it would be the Revered Mother who knows about it. I don't care how you two do it: trap her into revealing something; sneak in there and rifle through her papers; do whatever you have to, to find information."

Tamlen let out a harsh laugh. "I shouldn't be so eager to break into the chantry, but for some reason I am."

Zevran shared in his amusement, but Kali bit her bottom lip anxiously, unable to shake the feeling that this was going to get really rough. "Um, what do you want me to do, Ashara?"

"You're going to come with me to the Beyond and try to find an answer."

"But, I'm not a mage."

Ashara turned her hard violet eyes to Kali, looking through her as if to see into the distance, all the way to wherever Arlathan Forest was. "You don't have to be a mage. We have plenty of lyrium that I can use to bring you into the Beyond. But, we need to get a clearer picture. We can't make a decision until we have an idea of what's going on."

---

Translations:
da'len - child/children
Elvhen - elves
Sylaise - Goddess of the Forest
Aneth ara - informal greeting
vallaslin - lit: blood ink; the tattoo the Dalish get at their coming of age; each tattoo represents a different Creator
Fen'Harel - the Dread Wolf; god of chaos who trapped the Creators in the Beyond
Elvhenan - the Dalish word for themselves; a reference to their believe that they are the only "true elves"
emma'lath - my love

A/N: Lots of thanks to Wyl for his suggestion on slipping little things to help remind everyone that it's been about six years since the last fic. I mentioned to him that it was weird to write some of the characters since they've all grown over the years. Kali, especially, is really awkward to write since she isn't as innocent as she used to be (after six years with Zevran, how could she be?), and Wyl made the suggestion of how to add in the reminders without being obvious about it.

Big hugs and thank yous to Suilven for her awesome beta work, and for her suggestions that are, as always, spot on! She also helped me to figure out how to handle Kira and Alistair's section. Kira is politically astute enough to know that if she's seen making decisions for Ferelden, some of the nobles might have a problem with it since she's from Orlais, so I figure in public she would try to act like the Fereldan King holds the reigns. But I didn't want it to seem like she had cast off her entire personality to become a demure, obedient woman (and I doubt Alistair would be happy with a wife like that), so Suilven helped me to figure out how to explain the situation so that it made more sense.

Thank you to everyone reading, reviewing, or requesting alerts! It really means a lot!