The Keening Blade
Chapter 2: The Best Looking Guys You Ever Killed
"Did you hear that?" The girl called to Leliana, waving her over.
Tainted blood pumped from the neck of the dead genlock. Loghain wiped his blade, shaking his head at the girl's excitement.
"Hear what?" asked the Orlesian, trotting up.
"Loghain's sword made such a pretty sound when he beheaded that genlock. Like singing. It was lovely."
The bard's eyes opened very wide. "Your sword—sings?" she asked Loghain, full of wonder. "How delightful! Oh, I want to hear it!"
Loghain shot the girls an incredulous glare, and tried to escape. The source of the sword's name was no longer a mystery. The Keening Blade did indeed make a strange, high, wailing sound, most especially before striking a death blow. It was creepy as hell.
The girl nearly made a grab for him. Thinking better of it, she darted in front of him, hands tentatively out to catch his notice.
"Please, Loghain! Swing your sword again so Leliana can hear it! It's so nice!"
"Yes, please, Loghain!" Leliana seconded her friend eagerly. "Do it again!"
Loghain grunted in disbelief, and sheathed the blade with an emphatic clank. The girls trailed after him, full of disappointment.
"Please, Loghain…"
Blood and brains clotted on his right boot. He dragged the sole of it over some clean grass, studiously ignoring the pleas of the young madwomen. Beyond them, most of the company seemed amused.
"Believe me, my friend," Zevran told Oghren, "if a pair of beautiful women were begging me to 'Do it again!' I would not be so quick to dismiss them!"
"'Do it again, Loghain!'" Oghren snorted. "Someday, my lad, we'll have tales to tell."
Loghain glanced over to see the two girls still giving him soulful, pleading looks.
"You want to hear it?' he asked the Warden, brow raised. "Kneel down, and put your head on that stump," he pointed, "and I'll swing this sword for you, all right."
"Oh, yes, ha-ha, very droll," the girl said impatiently. "No, really—couldn't you just—?"
"No, really—" Loghain answered, completely straight-faced. "Put your head on that stump and I promise to swing this sword with all the strength I possess."
"You're impossible!" the Orlesian pouted, turning away to loot the corpses.
The Warden glared at him, a minute furrow between her delicately curved brows. The severe expression looked good on her, Loghain thought.
"I could order you to swing the sword," she realized.
"—And that would be a frivolous abuse of your authority," Loghain sneered. "You still owe me a forfeit, I believe. Besides, if our journey continues as it has begun, I daresay you'll be hearing my sword again soon enough."
Her brow cleared, and she smiled happily. "That's true! I'll remind Leliana to position herself close to you next time we see darkspawn!" She leaned close to him. "Have you decided on your chosen forfeit yet?"
"I'll remember to let you know."
"Could we move on?" Sten asked through clenched teeth. "This is no place to camp."
"You'll absolutely right," the girl agreed. "There's a lovely place not two miles from here. We might have to move the remains, but I remember there was good water."
"Remains?" Loghain wondered if he wanted to know.
"I killed some people there, I believe. Sometimes it seems to me like I've killed people everywhere! I forget if they were bandits or –oh yes, that confidence trickster who sold sham books of magic to the Circle! He was surprisingly capable."
"But you killed him and took his stuff," Loghain guessed.
"Of course I did. That cowl Morrigan wears was his. I think it's very becoming, don't you?" She bent to rip an amulet from the scraggy neck of a hurlock. "Oooh! Shiny!"
Sometimes Loghain wondered how the girl and her companions had managed to feed themselves before he came along.
When they made camp, he changed from armor into shirt, breeches, and light boots, took up his bow, grunted at the Orlesian and walked away, the dog following. The Orlesian had come to understand his grunts nearly as well as the dog, and joined him.
While the Warden liked hunting and seemed to be good at it, she was more valuable trading with the little villages and holdings they passed, speaking earnestly and convincingly, eyes shining, about why they should be sold the best that could be had for nearly nothing. Loghain thought that was more Eleanor than Bryce in her. Eleanor was always aware what was due to the Teyrna of Highever, and could drive a stony hard bargain.
Morrigan held herself above hunting (though not above gathering, thank the Maker). The elf was a city boy, through and through. The Qunari would do well enough, if prey would stand still while he took a big swing at them. Wynne played frail old lady and was a terrible cook, for someone so good at potions and poultices. Oghren claimed that all the leaves made it impossible to see anything. And from what everyone said, Alistair had never brought much to the campfire but an enormous appetite.
It largely came down to Loghain and the dog. The Orlesian was a decent shot, but her woodcraft was sadly lacking. She tagged along after Loghain and Ranger to fetch and carry, and did not seem absolutely unteachable about the rest.
Years ago, in another life, he had kept Maric and Rowan fed when they were on the run after West Hill. His past had returned—with a vengeance—and now he had even more mouths to feed.
"Hasn't anyone ever taught you how to set snares?" he asked the Orlesian.
"Not for animals," she laughed, batting her odious Orlesian lashes at him. "Sorry," she said, abashed at his scowl. "No, I don't know anything about snares. Teach me, please."
He grunted in a somewhat different tone, and spent at least an hour with some twine and a bit of wood and his dagger, showing different ways to set traps for birds and rabbits. He made a few and then had her copy them.
"These would be more effective if we had time to learn the neighborhood better, and scout out the animal trails. Still, with a bit of luck we should catch something. We'll come back here in the morning and see."
"You know so many interesting things, Teyrn Loghain," Leliana complimented him. "How did you learn how to trap animals?"
"My father taught me."
"He must have been very wise in the ways of the forest, yes? Did you teach the Queen?"
He had not. The thought troubled him. Another bit of Gareth Mac Tir, lost.
If Loghain had a grandchild it would be something to pass on-a special inheritance—but his hopes for a grandchild had faded year by year during Anora's marriage to Cailan. Now they seemed remote indeed. It made him sad for his daughter. He had always thought she would be a particularly good mother: affectionate, yes—but sensible and level-headed, too. She had had a good example: Celia had been a wonderful mother. It had been a disappointment to both Celia and Loghain that Anora's birth had been so difficult as to make more children impossible.
If Anora even survived, would she and that idiot bastard manage between them to make a child? Surely he was good for something besides standing behind a woman who did the thinking for him, looking ornamental! They seemed a desperately ill-assorted pair to Loghain, despite the girl's assurances of the boy's essential good nature. Mere good nature didn't get the job done: whether winning wars or begetting children.
Maric had fathered only two children, to Loghain's knowledge: Cailan and Alistair. The bastard's mother was a servant of some sort at Redcliffe Castle, and had died in the birthing. Loghain was certain that Maric had had other women, but Maric had not been forthcoming about that part of his life after Rowan had died. He had told Loghain about Alistair eventually—when the boy had been about a year old, and seemed likely to survive the ailments that took the little ones off early.
Despite all of Cailan's infidelities, no one had come forward claiming to have born him a child. That was good news, of course, because a bastard of Cailan's would have been a complication that very likely would have made Loghain's head explode. He almost laughed aloud at the horror of it. Eamon had wanted Cailan to renounce Anora and seek an annulment on the grounds of barrenness, but Loghain had always suspected that Cailan was shooting unbarbed arrows.
The dog whined softly, claiming his attention. Loghain motioned to the Orlesian to follow and edged through a thicket. There might be marsh ducks nesting nearby…
He got four and the Orlesian three. He brusquely praised her marksmanship and she flushed proudly. They would eat well tonight. The most mangled of the lot should probably given to the dog outright. What a fine, sensible beast, and endlessly useful.
The girl greeted them as conquering heroes on their return to the camp.
"The hunt was a success, I see! Ducks! Lovely. I winkled some elfberry preserves out of the farmer's wife back at the holding we passed. Some wild honey, too."
Without further comment she took the ducks from Loghain, and sat down on a log, plucking them with admirable efficiency. The Orlesian went off to clean herself. Loghain stood over the girl, watching her strip the birds of feathers as well as any farm girl.
"You've had practice over the past year, I see."
She laughed up at him. "Oh, I learned this long ago. Father-" she paused and smiled to herself, a tender, secret smile that made Loghain ache.
"—Well," she said, "Father insisted that Fergus and I know how to feed ourselves, no matter what happened. You know that he was one of the survivors of White River."
"Of course." Loghain sat down, and began work on one of the ducks.
"He and Howe and our cousin Leonas Bryland. All friends and companions and young noblemen together. They might have escaped the massacre of the defeat, but they nearly starved in the forest. Luckily they came across an old hunter who took pity on them. Father talked often to Fergus and me about how humbling it was to be dependent on someone who in ordinary circumstances would have received no more than a condescending 'My good man.'"
Loghain snorted, picturing it all too clearly. Maric was absolutely useless in the woods, and Rowan, for all her skill at arms, was never any good at hunting.
The girl went on, moving to the next bird. "Mother didn't quite see eye to eye with him on this, but she let him have his way. We had grand hunts, too, of course, and Mother loved those, and we learned to use boar spears and killed deer both with arrows and with swords, and it was quite fun, especially when the servants did the gutting—" She wrinkled her nose charmingly.
"—but Father also made Fergus and me go out with some really good woodsmen—just in a small party, and he had us learn tracking and trail signs and all that—and also what to do with the bag once we were done—rather than simply tossing it to a servant. He said he couldn't bear the thought of us going hungry as he had."
She set her finished, clean duck aside, and went on to the next. "He found it interesting that his friends learned very different lessons from that experience. Cousin Leonas took from it that he had to keep his children safe—so Habren is up in Denerim spending coin like there's no tomorrow. She is such a bitch. I walked right past her in the market. She didn't recognize me, of course, since I wasn't dressed in a way worthy of her notice. She threatened Leliana with sending her off to fight darkspawn for daring to look at her." She grinned impishly, and told Loghain. "I picked her pocket. It was so much fun! I got one of her parcels, too. She was being so nasty and bullying that she never noticed a thing."
"Do I want to know how you learned to pick pockets?" Loghain asked. It disturbed him that she was so proud of the accomplishment. It was one thing to do what you must to survive, and another to glory in petty theft.
"Leliana taught me. It's not hard, especially if you have extra-good reflexes, like me. It's even easier when two of us work together. Leliana bumped against Habren, and while she was distracted, I got her. In her parcel was this gorgeous tiara. I still have it. It's so pretty. Someday, when we are sufficiently victorious, I shall wear it to a celebration."
"Lady Habren may claim it. Even you might find that embarrassing."
"That's a good point! So sensible of you. I'll take it to a goldsmith for some alterations. And it could be reset with diamonds, rather than garnets. I have some nice diamonds. Diamonds go with everything."
Anora had once said something of the sort, he remembered.
"So I learned how to dress a deer, and pluck and clean fowl, and even how to singe the bristles off a boar. And I learned how to cook, too—as you shall see tonight."
He raised a skeptical brow. "You won't object if I keep an eye on you?"
"You think I'll burn your gorgeous ducks? Just you watch! I'm good at all sorts of things. You need to learn to trust me when I say I can do something. My old nursemaid Nan became our head cook when I decided I wasn't going to put up with having a nursemaid anymore—but I missed her, you see, so I spent a lot of time in the kitchen. Anyway, back to my story. So Arl Bryland's answer to his horrible experience was to swaddle his daughter away from reality and any possible danger. Father understood it, but told him he was making a mistake, not preparing Habren to face possible dangers. Cousin Leonas thinks he can protect her from everything. He can't even protect her from pickpockets!" the girl laughed.
Loghain was curious about what she thought Howe had taken from the same event, but was reluctant to ask. He was reluctant even to mention Howe's name to her. He did not have to, for the girl was still pursuing her thought.
"And Howe—well. I think his views changed over time. Nathaniel was certainly brought up as Fergus and I were. He's a brilliant archer and tracker. He—" her smile faded. She murmured, "What fun we had in those days."
She took up another duck. The dog came up sniffing. "Well, darling boy," she asked, "do you want dinner now, or do you want yours cooked too, with a lovely honey glaze?"
Ranger barked enthusiastically.
Loghain could not believe it. "Are you going to cook for that dog?"
"Why not?" she wondered. "He likes proper food, too. Anyway—Nathaniel's gone. Sent away to the Free Marches a few years ago. I don't know why. Maybe a difference of opinion, maybe a scandal over a girl. Don't know. Howe made Thomas the heir and tried to wheedle me into a marriage with him. In writing it sounded fine: Arlessa of Amaranthine in due course and next door to my family, and a thumping great marriage settlement for me with a keep and demesne of my very own near the coast in the Feravel Plains. An old castle called Drake's Fall. And our families always so friendly. I know that Father and Mother were willing to turn a blind eye to the fact that Thomas was three years younger and a worthless drunkard. I think that they and Howe had talked and agreed that I would be a "stabilizing influence" on Thomas, which is to say I would do all the work, and hide or soften his failings. Absolutely gruesome."
Loghain had always thought that marriage among the nobility was generally a pretty gruesome business. It certainly explained the paucity of noble children. When Maric had elevated him to the rank of teyrn, he had refused to be matched with any of the insipid females deemed suitable, and had chosen instead the daughter of a cabinet-maker: gentle, lovely Celia…"There's a daughter, too. Pretty girl."
"Yes—Delilah. I always liked her, but we never had much in common. Howe practically locked her away at Vigil's Keep. At least she's a nice person, which Habren certainly is not! There's a puzzler for you: Cousin Leonas is quite a decent fellow, but his daughter is a nasty piece of work. Howe was—well—Howe—and Delilah's very sweet. Anyway- I think by the time she and Thomas came along Howe had changed opinions, and moved from "raise your children to be self-sufficient" to 'hire reliable thugs to guard your children from their social inferiors.' Or to guard them from the consequences of their drunken idiocy, in Thomas' case. I couldn't stick it. I just couldn't marry him. He has clammy hands. I tried to let him kiss me once and I thought I was going to puke. So that was no go. I told Mother I found him repulsive. She was more understanding than I expected."
"What about Bryce?"
"Father wondered if I was going to find anyone who suited me, but he didn't force the issue. I got the impression that it wasn't something he had positively set his heart on."
"He was interested in marrying you to Cailan at one time," Loghain told her. That situation had required some brisk handling on Loghain's part, and a quick, quiet marriage between Cailan and Anora only a month after Maric's death.
The girl was amused. "Marry Cailan!" she crowed. "Wouldn't that have been something? I can't see us getting on very well. I didn't like him much when I was a girl."
"You're still a girl," Loghain pointed out.
"Very funny." She made a face at him. "When I was a young girl, then."
"You're still a young girl," Loghain persisted. "I don't believe you're actually of age yet."
"I will be of age in two months, not that it matters a bit. I'm old enough to die in battle or be hanged for treason."
"I wasn't going to hang you." Loghain muttered, staring at the rather forlorn, nearly-plucked bird in his hands.
Her expression brightened. "No? I'm glad. What were you going to do with me if you'd won?"
Why had he said anything? He had always thought he would be facing Alistair or even Eamon if it came to a duel, and he had planned to kill either of those bastards on the spot. He knew that the girl had made some impressive alliances, and had hoped to exert –pressure—on her to cooperate with him. It would not have been pretty, and he was not at all sure, knowing her better as he did now, that it could have worked. Or not perfectly, though he suspected she would have done quite a bit to protect her friends. He certainly would not have been as merciful to her as she had been to him. Telling her so, however, was hardly prudent, under the circumstances. Thinking about how he might have behaved caused him some discomfort.
"I hoped to find a way to work with you," he answered evasively, applying himself to his duck. "But tell me about why you weren't longing to marry Cailan. I thought he was every young girl's dream!"
"Not mine!" she maintained. "When I was a young teenager, I didn't like Cailan because he was so stuck-up and sort of silly. And because everybody expected me to. I don't like to do things that I'm expected to do."
"So I've noticed."
She was mixing honey and herbs into a sauce, her hand wielding the spoon with practiced ease. The ducks, naked and pink, were lined up neatly on the shield she never used for fighting.
Loghain asked, "You must have had plans of your own. Girlish dreams. Anora certainly did." Of course Anora's girlish dreams mostly concerned being Queen—at least the ones she had confided to her father.
She shrugged. "I was determined that nothing but the deepest love could ever induce me into matrimony." With ruthless efficiency, she spitted the birds over the fire as Loghain handed them to her, and then basted them lavishly with her honey sauce.
After a moment she said, "It sounds silly now, of course. Self-absorbed and ridiculous. And I'm a Grey Warden, so marriage is pretty much out, anyway. If I even live. When Duncan took me from Highever, I became fairly resigned to the probability that I'd die soon. I thought I would probably die at Ostagar, or live a few months more at most. My girlish dreams, " she grimaced at Loghain, "are limited at present to killing the Archdemon."
So, yes: she knew how to cook. Ducks, at least. Loghain focused on keeping watch, far away from the voices at the campfire. It was easier with almost enough food in his belly.
Loghain had been warned about an increase in appetite and possible nightmares by that shifty foreigner, Riordan. The fellow claimed to be from Ferelden, but that was obviously a mere pretext for his snooping. He had put Loghain through the rite, given him a superficial briefing about his new status as a Warden, and then had vanished from Denerim. "Scouting," or so he claimed. The girl had been rather let down by him, Loghain thought. She had evidently been hoping for someone to shoulder some of her burden, and that had not happened.
She had been there, leaning over him, when he awakened. Riordan was behind her, looking like a man enjoying a private joke. The girl, on the other hand, had been gentle with him, as with someone who had suffered a loss. She had whispered, "Welcome to the Grey Wardens," in her lovely voice, eyes hopeful. He had snarled at her, of course, if only because of the filthy taste in his mouth and the ghastly images etched into the backs of his eyelids by the bloodtaint visions. He wondered what the experience had been like for her. Duncan had no doubt held her hand throughout and seductively murmured Grey Warden slogans in her ear. Disgusting pervert.
There was a crackle in the brush in the direction of the camp. Sten arrived to relieve him: grunts were exchanged. Loghain moved through the trees to the beacon of the campfire, hearing chatter and laughter, and the girl's voice intertwined with the other women's, and the protests of the assassin and the dwarf.
"-Bann Teagan!" Leliana was declaring. Loghain winced at the way her accent spun the name out to unnatural length. It reminded him unpleasantly of something or someone...
"I am wounded-wounded- that you would prefer him!" Zevran was saying, hand on heart.
"I told you," the Warden protested in her turn, "that present company is excepted. Past and present members of our fellowship are not proper subjects for this discussion!"
"So you do find me desirable, O Perilous Beauty."
"It's not about you, elf," Morrigan sneered. "Maude just told you that. One would think those grotesque ears of yours are good for nothing but earrings!" She turned away from him, and told the girl, "I would cast a vote for that young nobleman we saw in the dungeons. A fool, but fair of face."
"You think all men are fools, Morrigan," Leliana reminded her.
"All men are fools."
"Let's see," the girl was smiling at her thoughts. "I would have to say that I thought that Paeden fellow at the Pearl was quite fetching."
Loghain stopped in his tracks, and looked at her in astonishment. What in the Maker's holy name was she doing at the Pearl?
She saw his expression, and laughed. "We found this broadsheet that seemed to be in support of the Grey Wardens. It was a trap of course, and this fellow Paeden was sent to kill us."
"But you killed him instead. And took his stuff," Loghain guessed.
"We did indeed!" Morrigan declared with satisfaction.
"He was very fetching all the same, and fought very well," the girl defended him. "And I thought that Cristof from the White Falcons was good looking, too. But the most striking man-present company excepted-" she assured her companions "-that I've come across would have to be-Kolgrim in the Frostbacks."
"Eeew!" Morrigan protested, waving her hands as if to drive off a terrible stench.
"Father Kolgrim?" Leliana gaped. "The vicious heretic who wanted you to defile the Ashes of Andraste?"
"He was very manly: very compelling," the girl insisted. "He was very impressive with an axe!"
Oghren slapped his knee in triumph, and leered at her in a way that made Loghain long to shorten the dwarf by a head.
Wynne shook her head, mystified. "He was cruel and deranged and summoned a dragon down upon us!"
"Well, I thought him very attractive in his own way!"
"His own horrible, menacing, insane way," Leliana muttered.
Zevran considered a moment. "Cara mia, if I may-" he began. "It is a curious thing, but every man you have mentioned is now dead by your hand."
"So?" the girl challenged. "I don't meet a lot of men who aren't trying to kill me. In fact, if I may-three out of my four current male companions have in fact tried to do so!"
"I never tried to kill you, boss!" Oghren declared, smugly virtuous.
She leaned over and patted his ham-like hand. "Thank you, Oghren. You're a good friend!"
Leliana was still baffled. "Why can't you like Bann Teagan? He never tried to kill you-oh, wait-yes, he did."
Morrigan sniffed. "Ineffectively." She sneered at Leliana, mocking her accent, "Oh, Teeegaaaaahhhhnnnn!"
Loghain snorted. That was where he had heard it. "Arlessa Isolde!" he muttered. His agents were certain that there was something between the Arlessa and her young brother-in-law... Aloud, he asked, "Why in the Maker's name would Teagan try to kill you?"
"Temporary possession by means of blood magic," Wynne replied to him, in a low voice. "He apologized, of course, once he came to his senses."
"I see."
"Kolgrim!" Leliana could not let go of the horror of it. "You only like him because he called you 'Andraste's True Champion.'"
The girl nodded, smiling to herself. "That was pretty neat. And as it happened, he was absolutely right!"
"While I scorn your absurd religion," Morrigan granted, "it is a more impressive title than 'Princess Stabbity-Stab,' as Alistair named Leliana!"
Loghain's head was spinning with the implications of it. He sat down, and listened in a daze while Leliana regaled him with their incredible adventures. He would not have believed any of it, except that white-haired Wynne had been there and calmly confirmed it all. He could not take his eyes from the Warden. The girl's success might actually be due, at least in part, to divine favor. It might explain how a charming girl of such questionable sanity could achieve so much. She had spoken to a spirit who claimed to have known Andraste, she had spoken to a spirit who appeared to be her father, she had fought a phantom double of herself...
Leliana babbled on: her bard's training showing at times; at other times, swept along by her own delight. "But Maude solved the puzzle of the bridge with such speed! She had us move in patterns over the blocks, and then the bridge was complete and we ran across it! It was fun!"
Zevran broke in. "And the final test was the high point, my friend! Our gorgeous leader was called to a test of faith, in which she had to walk through the Fire of Andraste! And to do this, she had to take off all her clothes first, and walk boldly through the flames completely naked. That made every danger worthwhile-and totally justifies my change of allegiance, I assure you!"
"It was a spiritual experience, Zevran!" Leliana scolded him. "Do not cheapen it with common earthly thoughts!"
Zevran smirked at Loghain. "It was definitely a spiritual experience. Profoundly uplifting."
Leliana instantly backhanded him. Everyone around the campfire burst out laughing. Even the assassin laughed.
Somewhat to his surprise, so did Loghain.
Note: Thank you to all my kind and clever reviewers: Tatiana 1, mille libri, crazy lemon, Lisa, Shining Girl, lost altogether, Kaliyuga, Donroth, Sanityfaerie, Shivvy, ByLanternLight, jenna53, black mage wannabe, sleepyowlet, Zute, Phoenix Fire Lady, Piceron, Eva Galana, Sati James, Amhran Comhrac, and Carnie Heart.
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