The Keening Blade
Chapter 15: Darkspawn Honeymoon
"I love my ring," Maude told Loghain, holding her hand out to the early morning sun, the better to admire the little rainbows refracting from the diamonds. "Thank you. You have excellent taste. I only wish you'd allowed me to give you something equally splendid."
He smiled slightly, and blew a lock of wayward brown hair out of his face. There was no longer any need to slink out of her bed like a criminal in the morning. She was resting peacefully on him, belly to belly, her face nuzzling his throat. It was all very agreeable.
"Of all the rings I found that would fit you, it sparkled the most. I don't do sparkly, myself, but I thought you would like it."
She smiled with delight and looked up at him. "How did you know it would fit?"
"I measured the ring finger on the inside of your gauntlet."
"You are so resourceful. I went through your belongings, too. I love diamonds, and these are extra-sparkly. They're that qunari cut, aren't they? I hadn't seen it before. Do you have a lot of rings lying about?"
He snorted. "I have a bit of treasure put by, yes. I promise to show it you, but not right now."
"Just as long as you do. What's yours is mine now, remember."
"Would that mean that what is yours is now mine?" he asked, raising a brow.
She laughed at him. "If you think you can get it away from me!"
The servants were coming, and Loghain flicked the bed curtains closed. Water jars clanked as the bath was filled.
"Hot water! Lovely," sighed Maude, flopping onto her back. "I married you for your bathtub, you know." She smiled at him impishly. "And by the way, Ser-Doesn't-Do-Sparkly, your ring is enchanted. Among other things, it doesn't come off!"
At breakfast, the news they heard surprised them.
"I must return to Jader," Riordan told them, not pleased at the prospect, but very determined to see it though. "I have duties there that I must no longer neglect. I should leave soon, since winter will be upon us in a few months. If your report is complete, Maude, I shall take it with me. We shall stop at Cumberland first, and entrust the report and the Archdemon blood to a Warden courier. He can take the Imperial Highway north to Weisshaupt. It is the fastest way to deliver it."
"And I shall go with him," Leliana told them, smiling dreamily. "Such a lovely voyage we shall have together. Now that I am a Grey Warden, I can return to Orlais, and fear nothing."
She and Riordan held hands and looked at each other, and Loghain did his very best to refrain from sneering. Maude could not hide her distress. She was fond of the silly bard, and enjoyed her company. Morrigan, on the other hand, was smugly satisfied. Loghain had always sensed a rivalry there over Maude's friendship.
"Then 'tis clear that you should do just that. Your work here is done. I'm sure the shops of Orlais await you, shoes and all!"
"Oh, Morrigan!" Maude threw up her hands.
"Right you are," rumbled Oghren, holding his head. "Me too. Not that I don't appreciate the social whirl here in Denerim. It's a stuffed nugful of laughs, but I'm leaving with the Feddics for Lake Calenhad and Felsi as soon as they get their stuff together. Nah. Don't look at me like that, Boss. I'll probably be back one of these days."
"Don't hurry off, Oghren," Maude urged, already distracted by Riordan and Leliana's news. "We might be able to go with you part of the way. Give me a bit of time."
Leliana would not leave, of course, until her new dragonwing armor was delivered. Days passed, and she spent quite a bit of time whispering in Maude's ear. The whispers invariably were repeated to Loghain.
"Riordan's not far from his Calling," Maude told him in the privacy of their bed. "Leliana's plan is stay with him until he has to go. Maybe she'll even go with him to Orzammar. It's certainly not far from Jader! She's missed Orlais, I think, and this will give her a chance to reconnect with her past. After Riordan is gone, she plans to come back to Ferelden and rejoin us. It may not be more than a year or two, though I'm sorry to say it. Riordan is all right."
"He could be worse," Loghain agreed, grudging every syllable. "Of course, by the time of his Calling, Leliana might have put down roots in Orlais again. Don't put too much faith in her coming back, Maude. I don't want you to be disappointed."
"She'll be back," Maude said lightly, curling up against him to sleep. "I have a feeling about it."
While they were awaiting Leliana's armor, Delilah Howe arrived in Denerim, brought from the Howes' castle of Vigil Keep by a guard of the Queen's personal knights. Had the orders been for her to have a fatal accident on the way to the Landsmeet, it would have been easy enough to arrange, for darkspawn lurked under every rock along the Pilgrim's Path.
However, the orders had been otherwise, and the knights protected her successfully on their journey, keeping her horse in the midst of them. She had not been bound, but she was watched carefully. The commander of the troop saw no reason to treat the young lady harshly: she was gentle and sad, no doubt grieving for her father, and for her younger brother Thomas, killed in a skirmish with darkspawn not a month before.
She was brought directly to the palace, installed in comfortable guest quarters, and waited for others to determine her fate, as she always had.
"I'd go visit her," Maude said to Loghain, "but I can't imagine she'd want to see me. I've always liked Delilah, but I killed her father, after all. Even though he was a rotten father, getting her into trouble like this."
"I'm not so sure," Loghain disagreed. "She might be glad to see a familiar face. You're going to meet eventually, so you might as well get it over with. You hated her father, but you obviously don't hate her."
Maude sprawled in the window seat of his bedchamber, thought creasing her young face into a frown. "It's complicated, Loghain. Yes, in the end I hated Howe, but I remember a time when I didn't. That's why I've never blamed you for trusting him during the war. My own father trusted him right up to the minute Howe put a dagger in his kidney." She managed a wry half-smile. "After that, perhaps not so much."
She slid off the window seat, and began picking restlessly through the articles on the vanity. "This may sound very odd, but I used to like Rendon Howe. We saw a lot of the Howes when I was growing up. The arl was like an uncle to me. Kind of a strict uncle you didn't talk back to, but I—" She sat down again, looking at herself in the mirror, playing with her hair. "My very first memory of Rendon Howe was when I was very little, and we were traveling to Vigil's Keep for a visit. It was a chilly day in early spring, I recall, and we stopped briefly. Fergus insisted on walking, but Howe picked me up out the carriage, and carried me. I must have been used to him, because I didn't mind a bit. He and Father and Mother were talking as they walked into the forest. There was a fox's earth, and Howe showed me that if you looked carefully through the leaves, you could see a vixen with her kits. I remember it to this day so vividly—how he smelled of leather and oiled metal and apple pomade, and how enchanting the foxes were. He told me to be very, very quiet, and I was. Fergus asked if we were going to kill them, but Father said no, and Howe said, 'Even foxes have their uses. They cull the weak.' I was so relieved that nobody was going to hurt the adorable little kits, and I was glad they had a important job to do."
Loghain thought for a moment, and then said, "Go see her. It was your idea to make her an arlessa, after all."
There was not a great deal of surprise at Delilah Howe's confirmation before the Landsmeet. It was well known that she had arrived in Denerim and had not been clapped in Fort Drakon. As she had been treated well, most people had surmised that a deal was underway to give her at least a part of the Howe patrimony.
Gossip raged about the changed borders and about the territory made over to the Grey Wardens. Gossip raged over who Delilah Howe—now an eligible young woman once more—would take as her husband. Many a bann, many a bann's heir, and many a younger son made a point of nodding and bowing and kissing her hand.
"—I always liked Lady Delilah. So refined and lady-like. So much like her mother…"
"-I know what you mean! She's not like a Howe at all…"
"-Do you think Fergus Cousland will marry her? It would make sense, since the lands march…"
"-Maker's Blood! I hope not! I haven't even had a chance to introduce my Nessa to him. He's so very…"
"-And what about that great tract of land given to the Grey Wardens? Cousland was behind that, I'll warrant. His sister may not be able to hold a title, but he naturally wants to take care of her…"
"-I heard that was the Queen's idea. After all, if she's putting her father out to pasture with that young filly of his, they'll need somewhere to live that's far from Denerim…"
"-Well, I heard it was the King's idea. He was a Grey Warden himself, and…"
"-And what about the arling of Denerim? The Queen hasn't said a word. People are getting impatient…"
Loghain was watching Anora talk with Eamon, when he sensed someone beside him. For some reason, he thought it was Maude at first, and then glanced over to see Arlessa Delilah.
"My lady."
She smiled hesitantly. "Warden…Warden Loghain. This is quite horrible, isn't it?"
"The Landsmeet is what it is," he shrugged. "One must live with it." He hoped that meeting him was not what she meant as being horrible. If she did, why was she speaking to him?
"I had not expected to live with it quite so intimately. Frankly, as I told Maude, I expected the Queen's knights to put me out of the castle in my shift. I also thought it possible that I might be summarily hanged. Obviously, I would have preferred the former."
He huffed an ironic laugh. "Yes, but then you would have had to worry about the future."
She smiled softly. "I assure you that I had it all planned. I had packed a bag, and was getting ready to go to Amaranthine anyway. I have…friends…there, you see."
Loghain did not allow his expression to change. Maude had told him of her conversation with Delilah. Contrary to her expectation, Delilah was grateful to Maude for ridding her of a father who had grown strange and cruel and unpredictable. Delilah had actually used the word "evil." She had been sequestered for her protection at Vigil's Keep since before the Cousland massacre, and only allowed occasional visits to Amaranthine, where she frequented the Chantry and the shops, always accompanied by guards.
It was at Amaranthine where she had made what Maude described as a shockingly unsuitable attachment. Loghain was not a snob, and did not see Delilah's tentative affection for a mild-mannered shopkeeper as the monumental catastrophe that Maude did.
After a pause, Loghain said to the new arlessa, "Maude did not want to see the innocent punished. She thinks well of you, and has always said so."
"She's so strong. Such a hero. She thinks everyone else is as strong as she. I understand that she has done this out of a desire to be fair—even generous. I have written to my brother Nathaniel, and asked him to come home and help me. That is something good that will come of all this. Father sent him away years ago to the Free Marches. 'To squire,' he said, though I think it was to keep Nathaniel, who was so fond of the Couslands, out of the way until everything was over and done and the winners were writing the histories. At least now, he and I can be together, and a family once more."
Loghain sighed. She was an honest woman. He could see why Maude liked her. "Your father and I—and I do not pretend to be innocent in this—we were both horribly wrong. Had the danger been anything but the Blight, his plan might have worked. Neither of us understood that the Blight was profoundly different from any other kind of threat."
"Father did not want to understand," Delilah said calmly. "He hated the Grey Wardens more than you can imagine."
"I knew he despised them. He thought them irrelevant, and a haven for superfluous sons of the nobility—"
"No," she insisted. "He hated them. Did you know that his father was a Grey Warden?"
It was unusual for him to be shocked speechless. Loghain blinked, thinking over past conversations. Maude slid through the crowd and joined them, eyeing them both with concern.
"Delilah. Is everything all right?"
"Quite all right," Delilah said gently, "though I think I just took Warden Loghain's breath away with my revelation. I suppose nobody knows that my grandfather died a Grey Warden. My family always did its best to conceal it."
She was willing enough to tell the whole story. Padric Howe had felt a sudden vocation to serve Thedas by fighting the darkspawn—even in those days when the Order was not permitted in Ferelden. He had left home and family—in the midst of the Orlesian Occupation—and had taken ship into the west, wanting to go to Weisshaupt, the very heart of the Order, and devote his life to the Grey Wardens.
"Of course, he was not the arl, and did not reasonably expect to inherit. Nonetheless, my father never got over this abandonment of what he perceived as my grandfather's real duties. No one ever heard what happened to him, either. It was as if the Grey Wardens simply swallowed him up."
Maude and Loghain caught each other's eye. It was entirely possible that idealistic, irresponsible Padric Howe had died in the Joining. Maude had a theory that the Taint had no idea what to do with people who were too nice.
Leliana's armor came two days later, and was perfection itself: a delicate lilac color with silverite fittings. A light winged helmet of silverite came with it, and Leliana was enchanted. She wore her new armor to a special audience before the King and Queen, where, for their service to Ferelden, she and Riordan were rewarded with gold medallions commemorating the end of the Fifth Blight.
"I wish they had struck those medallions before Sten and Zevran left," Maude whispered to Loghain, very dissatisfied. "They should have been recognized. I notice that Wynne has one!"
"Anora is going to give us ours when we leave for the north. Oghren will get one, yes. I asked her."
"And so he should!" she hissed back.
Leliana wore her pretty grey and blue gown, rather than armor, to the Wardens' farewell party; and she and Riordan was feasted and toasted until Loghain wondered if they were actually going to be able to embark the following day. They had found a ship to take them to Cumberland, and their belongings were already packed, ready to be carted to the docks. It was surprising how many chests they had, since Riordan had traveled light, and Leliana had come to Denerim with what she had on her back. Of course, she had been patronizing the remaining shops in Denerim pretty regularly since their victory…
She and Maude put on a show not unlike the one he had witnessed at the Spoiled Princess. While this did not have the edge given by the probability of sudden and violent death within days, it was beautiful in its own way: the sweetness of the girls' voices echoing off the vaulted roof of the Wardens' Hall, the warmth of the noble fire, the pleasant sensation of being clean, and the even pleasanter one of being safe, at least for tonight.
Morrigan, queenly in purple velvet, was surrounded by the admiring Orlesian wardens, and seemed inordinately satisfied with herself. She even condescended to scratch Ranger's ears when he paid her a visit. While the departure of the other Blight companions depressed Maude, it seemed to please Morrigan no end. It was curious that she did not appear to begrudge Loghain his relationship with Maude. He considered the matter, uncomfortably aware that it might be that very relationship that had been a wedge driven between her and all her other friends. If she had killed him and become Alistair's queen, would they have departed so precipitously? Perhaps Morrigan did not mind sharing Maude with Loghain, because now she did not have to share her with anyone else. Well, except with Fergus, of course, but Morrigan seemed to like Fergus.
Maude had bought herself a lute of her own, and serenaded her friends with an old song that Loghain had always liked:
"Oh, the summer time is coming,
And the trees are sweetly blooming,
And the wild mountain thyme
Grows around the purple heather.
Will you go, lassie, will you go?
And we'll all go together
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the purple heather,
Will you go, lassie, go?
I will build my love a bower
By yon pure, crystal fountain,
And round it I will pile
All the flowers of the mountain.
If my true love should prove false
I will surely find another
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the purple heather.
Oh, the summertime is coming
And the trees are sweetly blooming
And the wild mountain thyme
Grows around the purple heather.
And we'll all go together
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the purple heather,
Will you go, lassie, will you go? "
Kristoff took over Riordan and Leliana's room two days after they left. He was not a bad fellow, but the unclear command structure in the Warden Compound was a constant aggravation. Kristoff commanded the Orlesian Wardens, and the Fereldan Wardens did exactly as they pleased.
Morrigan's armor arrived: or items that she called armor. It was certainly not identifiable as a mage's robe, not was it like the crude garment Flemeth had created for her.
It resembled light armor certainly, but the tassets were longer than usual, and silverite inlays traced strange flourishes and runes over breast and hip and knee caps. Archdemon leather decorated the winged helmet. Feathers subtly plumed the pauldrons and wolfskin furred the faulds. Studding the belt were bits of spiders and of bears, and creatures Loghain dared not guess at. It was quite magnificent armor, but a bit barbaric, too. Herren delivered it with trepidation, and described to Loghain Master Wade's agonies over something so exotic, and his discomfort with allowing that little dwarf to enchant it.
Morrigan agreed to carry Spellweaver and a light shield, but her primary weapon was her new and curiously very small staff—called a 'wand' by the Tevinter magisters— which was sheathed in her fine left gauntlet. No one seeing her would guess she was a mage, but they would be puzzled to guess where she hailed from. The Orlesians admired the sight of her arrayed for battle, but for very improper reasons, in Loghain's opinion.
On a particularly dull and rainy day, the four remaining Fereldan Wardens-Maude, Loghain, Morrigan, and Ranger-retired to Loghain's room to consider their situation. Maude sat by the hearth, giving Ranger a proper stomach rub. Morrigan paced restlessly, peering out the window with a dissatisfied air.
"It's too late in the year to start real work on Soldier's Peak, I suppose," Maude sighed, "but we need to be ready first thing in the spring. I should go and make some precise measurements, perhaps. Maybe we could commission some work from those dwarf masons, and from some carpenters and glaziers, too. We could do a survey, and then come back, place our orders, and winter here."
Loghain shuddered at the prospect of wintering at the Palace. Morrigan, too, was tired of the place, and expressed a desire to get out of the city for awhile.
"'Tis very diverting for a month or so, and then the crowd becomes unbearable. Such a stink! And then there is that dreary dinner once a week with King Alistair. Surely there are darkspawn somewhere that require killing?"
Loghain agreed with her: there were so very many reasons to want to get away from Denerim...
"It wouldn't take us more than two or three weeks to perform the kind of survey you're suggesting, Maude. Yes, we should do that, and give the craftsmen the winter to work. Then we can go out in the spring with windows, furnishings, and the like already prepared to be installed. However, after briefly returning to Denerim and making our commissions, I think we need to scout southwards, and see what's going on there. In the worst of the winter there are farmholds or inns where we could stay."
"Shall we go all the way to the Wilds?" Morrigan asked, raising her brows. "You wish to see what is happening around Ostagar?"
"I have no wish ever to see that place again in life," Loghain return harshly, "but it would probably be a good idea. It's where it all began."
"I suppose so," Maude considered. "And it would help Anora and Alistair settle in together if we were not on the scene. It's a perfect excuse to escape the Orlesians and the Chantry, too."
"That had occurred to me," snorted Loghain.
"There are," Morrigan began carefully, "things—books especially—that I should like to retrieve from Flemeth's hut. They may already be ravaged by wild creatures and weather, but I think not. Yes. I, too, would like to go south. Let us be cautious, however, lest we find something unpleasant lingering there."
Alistair was very vocally amused when he heard about the proposed expedition. After a few cups of wine he was ready to tease Maude about it.
"So, let me get this straight: I understand you and Loghain will be spending your honeymoon scouting for darkspawn. With Morrigan. Don't you think that sounds a little—strange? Just asking."
Maude gave him her brightest smile. "How do you think Loghain and I should spend our honeymoon? And we're taking Ranger too, by the way."
"Right. Forget I said anything."
On the other hand, Fergus thought it all a very good idea. He wanted to go to Highever and start putting it to rights. He had hired on quite a few men and was already organizing his party when his sister told him of her plans to go north.
"Well—let's go together, at least part of the way," Fergus said eagerly. "I'm so pleased, pup, that you won't be living far away. Father always wanted to improve the road along the coast to Amaranthine, and with the Wardens next door, it would be a smart thing to do. I won't be able to do it soon, but I'll definitely put in on my list."
"At least there was no lack of sell-swords for hire!" Maude laughed. "A lot of them are looking for work."
"Well, I'm not just trusting mercenaries," Fergus told her. "The Queen has been good enough to lend me a company of her knights. Cauthrien—" here he looked across the room and smiled at the woman "-Cauthrien's leading them. I'll be glad of a sword arm like hers, considering what a mess the teyrnir is in!"
"Oh," Maude said, surprised. "That's—nice."
Loghain glanced up. Cauthrien was looking back at Fergus. Just looking, and not exactly smiling, but her face had a calm Loghain did not remember seeing in the past. It was not the face she had shown Loghain himself—and still…sometimes…no, it was not that look, but this was certainly something new…
They had money for horses, so they bought them. Grey Warden or not, Maude did not want Morrigan's shape-shifting abilities known to the Chantry, so it was agreed that they would have three riding horses and a pack animal. The plan was to travel with Fergus and Oghren as far as the North Road Inn. The Wardens would then travel north on the Coast Road to the Peak. Fergus and his knights would turn off onto the Highever Road in another two days, and then Oghren and the Feddics would move on, west to Lake Calenhad.
"I thought you wanted to wait until your armor was finished," Loghain said.
Maude shrugged. "The armor I've got is good enough, and I'm sick of Wade's excuses. I don't care anymore, anyway."
She was probably tired of being the girl in his story, after all, and matching armor would only exacerbate that. Loghain was not sure wearing Sophia Dryden's armor was particularly good for Maude, but they needed to go and get the survey finished, and get on with their scouting. Perhaps Wade would have finished her new armor by the time they returned to the capital.
The Orlesians, predictably, thought their departure a brilliant idea. Kristoff assured them that they would patrol the arling of Denerim most diligently, and showed Loghain plans for other scouting expeditions along the major roads and settlements. It was not a bad division of labor, after all, and it was useless to try to prevent the Orlesians from poking all about Ferelden, now that they were here.
Before he left, Anora had a favor to ask of them. Delilah Howe, now Arlessa of Amaranthine, needed to be returned to her home at the fortress of Vigil's Keep. She was Fergus' vassal, and had been sponsored by Maude, so it was only logical that they should take her with them. There was a proper farewell audience, they all received their ridiculous medallions, and they were free to go at last. Loghain's last sight of Anora was of her holding hands with Chantry Boy. Maybe he would have the grandchild he had longed for, after all...
Maude agreed with him that their ride up the North Road might do some real good. They clashed frequently with darkspawn on the way, but their large party resolved the disputes in their favor with comfortable dispatch.
The second night was the worst. It seemed as if every surviving darkspawn in Ferelden emerged from the trees to attack their camp. Loghain and Maude had been sleeping—not exactly the sleep of the Just, but the equally deep sleep of the Just-After-when the lookouts gave a shout, and Ranger began baying wildly. There was just enough time to grab their weapons and put on their boots.
The moon was bright: bright enough to choose a target. A big alpha waved a serrated sword overhead, rallying the monsters.
"You archers!" Loghain shouted. "Aim at that one! Bring him down! Morrigan, freeze them!"
Everything was crisp and clear under the chilly stars, the shadows sharp-edged. Maude was a column of white, spinning, dodging, stabbing, and slashing with deadly grace.
It seemed to go on forever. He smashed the darkspawn down with his shield, and hacked at grinning, mindless faces. The press of darkspawn slackened, and then there were only a handful, and then were only a pair of emissaries, casting spells from a distance. One went down, feathered with arrows, and another lingered until Cauthrien took its head off.
A long and fearful silence followed, as everyone waited to see if the attack would be renewed by more of the creatures. When it was clear that they were all dead, there were deep sighs of relief, and an attempt by some of the knights to try to get what sleep they could. Loghain flinched away at the sight of a naked Oghren cackling over his latest kill. That was something that would probably be burned into his memory for all time, worse luck.
"It's possible that that they were drawn to us, you know," Maude murmured to him.
Loghain shrugged. "Better that they be drawn to us than to those unable to defend themselves. Perhaps the Pilgrim's Path will be quiet now, except for the usual bandits and outlaws, of course."
Morrigan walked past, her voice scornful as she told a fuming Cauthrien, "My count is twelve. Three more than you, I think…"
Within two days they were at Vigil's Keep, the seat of the Howes. Delilah was greeted with real relief by her retainers, who had feared the worst when she was taken into custody by the Queen's men. Fergus was very uncomfortable staying there, but it was necessary. In fact, it was necessary to stay for three days, while the local gentry were summoned to recognize her as their Arlessa. Loghain watched the ceremony from the shadows, and did not envy Delilah Howe her situation. These were wolves, sharpened and seasoned from years of Rendon Howe's rule.
"I hope Nathaniel comes soon," Maude whispered to him. "Look at them. I told Delilah to keep her guards about her. Some of those men would be just the sort to kidnap her and try to force her into a marriage!"
In another two days, they were saying their goodbyes at the North Road Inn. The landlord and his wife greeted them with nervous effusiveness. The presence of Fergus, kind and affable, did quite a bit to calm the their fears. The landlord actually managed to meet Loghain's eyes as he asked,
"The private room, my lord?"
There were six of them—seven with Ranger—in the cozy room. Green light filtered through the bottle glass windows. Fergus and Oghren were engrossed in a drinking contest almost before they took off their gauntlets. Morrigan and Cauthrien eyed one another warily, as they had ever since leaving Denerim. Loghain had no idea what issues the two women had with each other, but the rivalry was always there. A good thing they would be parting tomorrow.
They had an excellent meal, and were amused by the spectacle of Cauthrien utterly crushing Fergus at chess. Then Oghren pushed the routed teyrn out of his chair, and astonished everyone by defeating Cauthrien. In six moves. The knight stared at the board, confounded. Morrigan presented Oghren with a tankard of ale.
"Well," he croaked, staggering away. "My work here is done."
There was no need to hurry away the next morning, but the farewells were inevitable. It was best to get them over with.
"Well, I guess this is it, Boss," Oghren rumbled, almost sober. "You're the Real Thing as heroes go. I've said it before, and I'll keep on saying it."
"Don't forget that you're a hero, too, Oghren!" Maude hugged him. "All success and happiness with Felsi. Don't forget that the door is open, if you decide to come looking for us!"
Morrigan did not hug him. "Farewell dwarf. Do not, in drunken befuddlement, fall down a well and drown."
"Ah, you always talk so pretty," growled Oghren, grinning.
Loghain shoved a small parcel at Oghren. "You've served well. Here. It's for your woman. It might cause her to overlook some of your more obvious flaws."
"Wha-?" Oghren pulled away the cloth wrapping protecting the string of pearls and amethysts. "That's—well—thanks, Loghain! You're not as big an arse as I thought!"
"Likewise," Loghain conceded.
"Ooo!" Maude admired. "Those are nice!" Loghain held her wrist ruthlessly, and shook his head. She sighed and kept her hands to herself.
"They are indeed," Morrigan agreed. "Extend them toward your intended at the end of a long pole, and perhaps she will even allow you to speak to her."
Oghren laughed heartily, and waved farewell as he climbed into the Feddics' wagon.
Fergus and Maude had a longer, whispered farewell, punctuated with fierce embraces and misty eyes. Morrigan's hand was kissed gallantly, and Loghain's hand shaken.
"Come and see me soon, pup! If you don't, I'll nag you just like Mother used to!"
"And you can come to see us!" Maude said, sniffling. "I invite you just as soon as the Peak is fit to be seen. We'll be together in Denerim next spring for the Landsmeet, anyway. Take care of yourself!"
Loghain wondered if he would have to take the girl's reins and lead her away. He caught Cauthrien's cool eye taking in the scene, and gave her a nod. She opened her mouth, as if she were going to say something, but then she must have thought better of it, and only nodded back. Loghain felt a pang at the sadness of her expression, but there was no help for it. Henceforth, their lives would follow different roads, and they must each make the best of it.
Before they left Denerim, Maude had said something about having a look at Knotwood. The little village was just off the Coast Road, a few miles north of where the Coast and North Roads joined. It had been a little out of their way when they had come through months before, but Loghain felt the girl needed a bit of distraction. She was moping again, and it was not good for her.
They rode through the village unhindered, for every man, woman, and child had run away at their approach. Wide eyes peered over window sills, staring at them.
"This place does have its own quiet charm," Morrigan drawled. "And it certainly does not take long to see!"
Maude roused herself from her misery to disagree. "It's a very nice village…in its way."
"And its way is to be nothing but a tavern, a smithy, and a mill!"
"Maybe we should stop at the tavern and introduce ourselves," Maude muttered, rather half-heartedly.
"I am not sure we can enter the tavern, as the very building is quivering in terror at the sight of us!"
"Enough, Morrigan," Loghain said wearily. "Let's just move on to the Peak for now. Perhaps we should visit on our way back."
They traveled the twisting way to the Peak, and found subtle changes there. The air no longer smelled of demons, and no visions were to be seen. Squirrels darted across the courtyard and leaped into the nearby trees. The fortress was no longer haunted: it was merely vacant.
Their plans were already made, and they first sought out Avernus' tower workroom, securing his cache of notes and potions recipes. Morrigan sat down to read through them, while Maude searched for the old Grey Warden treasury. Loghain inspected and measured and inventoried, and decided that they really must dispose decently of all the human remains.
"You can help me dig," he told Ranger. The dog wagged his tail, happy to be of service.
"Loghain!" Maude called out from upstairs. "Come see this!"
She was in Sophia's old room, ignoring the heap of rotting Sophia by the big stone table. Her back was to him, and she was sitting on a splintery chair in front of a fireplace.
There was no fire in it, of course, Instead, she had removed bricks and dug through mortar to find the place where Sophia had hidden the remaining funds of the Ferelden Grey Wardens. The chest was not iron, but bronze, of antique Tevinter make, and was green with age but still sound.
Maude whirled on him, wickedly gleeful. Loghain nearly stepped back at the maniacal gleam in her eyes. He was glad to see her happy again, of course, but perhaps not quite so happy…
"Holy Maker, we are so rich!' she exulted. She waved her hand at the open chest, inviting him forward. "Look at it! I can't wait to count it all!"
Sacks and stacks of coin, and everywhere the glint of gold. Loghain paused, thinking about how differently the past year would have gone if he had been able to put his hands on this kind of money.
"There's an accounting in here," she said, showing him a yellowed parchment, "but I'll want to count it myself, of course."
"Of course." Loghain flicked a glance over the old script. By this account, there were over a thousand sovereigns here. Funds in plenty to restore and furnish the fortress, and then some.
He cleared his throat, impressed. "I wonder why Sophia didn't just buy the throne? Too proud, perhaps."
"No, I think she wasn't able to access this on her own. There are two signatures here. I think there was a treasurer who had one of the keys. I suppose that's very business-like and all. And she didn't know how to pick locks, probably. They must have sealed it all away when the siege began. All the better for us!"
He gave her a hard look. "Will it be necessary for me to count this with you?"
She understood him, and shook her head. "No. I'm not going to steal from the Wardens, Loghain. That would be silly. It would be like stealing from myself. I promise to count it very carefully and write it all down. Besides, I have all the coin I can comfortably carry with me already!" She looked off into infinity and then smiled. "You know, Loghain, Weisshaupt can't possibly know about this money…"
"What do you mean?" he said, not about to stand for any nonsense.
"I mean, they can't say they already sent us all this in order to get out of sending us the money I asked for in my report."
"You asked Weisshaupt for money?" he asked, taken aback.
She pounded her fist on the table in her enthusiasm. "Of course I did! We had the Blight! We were the ones who suffered! We killed the Archdemon and nobody helped us! Of all the thousands of Wardens in all Thedas, only Riordan came to our aid, and he was being used by the Orlesians, who sent him knowingly to his death. But he didn't die, and has the glory of fighting with us, so Ha! on them."
She hefted a leather pouch, eyes sparkling, enjoying the musical jingle.
"I see it this way, Loghain: the First Warden could have sent help if he'd wanted to. Not the Orlesians, even: he could have sent Wardens from the Free Marches or Antiva, or Rivain, or Nevarra, or from the Anderfels. He could have come himself, the lazy laggard, since we were having the only Blight to be had in hundreds of years. But he didn't. I think he wanted to make an example of Ferelden. If an entire country had been destroyed because they had no Wardens, that would have been a lesson remembered for centuries. And your reputation would have made it even more powerful! If it meant throwing two very junior Wardens under the turnip wagon, well—" her smile turned feral, "we all have to make sacrifices, you know!"
Loghain scowled. He hated it when Maude got started with her conspiracy theories. They made even more sense than his own. "'Ha' on them, indeed."
"That's what I say!" she beamed, giving him a kiss. "So! Here we are, all so devastated, and starting from the ground up, and we really need gold to reequip and repair our old fortress, and why shouldn't they pay, since they couldn't trouble themselves to do anything else or even keep the griffons alive, for that matter? That really bothers me, you know. I hope they send us lots and lots of money!" She sat down, triumphant, and added, "When I sent the Archdemon blood off to the other Wardens, I asked them all for money, too!"
"You asked the Orlesians for money, too?"
"Why not? They're rich, or at least they pretend to be. I gave the Orlesian copy of the report to Riordan, so they might even have seen it by now."
Loghain blew out a breath. "All right. Count it. We may want to take some back with us to Denerim to pay for all the work we're commissioning. I'll take some measurements and create the best floor-plan I can."
Dust flew as he cleaned off a workspace on the old stone table. He drew what he had notes for, and then went in search of more data. The inside of the keep needed to be completely renovated. There was a great deal of wasted space here. He opened doors, and gingerly went down old and rickety stairs. There was yet another wing none of them had seen before, full of private bedchambers. None of the furnishings were salvageable, but at least there were not a great many skeletons.
Maude joined him by the time he was ready to explore the cellars. Not surprisingly, there was not much left. The Wardens had been starving at the end, and the casks of wine and ale were empty. Old tools had rusted away, and old linens had moldered. There were some prisons cells—also empty, a still room, and some miscellaneous storage. Everything needed to be piled in a heap and incinerated. But not today.
Upstairs, Morrigan was sorting through the books.
"I found Avernus' old bedchamber in the tower," she informed them, a little defensively. "I claim it as mine."
"If you like," Maude said, perfectly agreeable. "We should have a look at it before we go, so Loghain can put any repairs it needs on his list."
Morrigan nodded stiffly, perhaps not liking to share the space even that much. She said, "Now that the demons are gone, the vermin will certainly find a way into the castle. I shall cast preservation charms and then ward what I can, but ultimately a cat or two would be a good investment."
Ranger cocked his head and whined.
"I do not disparage your hunting skills, mongrel, but surely you will have better things to do than chase mice!"
There was no great need for haste, so they explored further, and found the herb garden, and the remains of what must have been a vegetable garden. They found an old statue of a tribal warrior, broken in pieces and discarded by the north wall.
"That's a nice statue," Maude said. "I think that's meant to be Korth the Mountain Father. We could have it fixed, and put it in the herb garden."
"The Andrasteans would be shocked," Morrigan pointed out primly.
"Then we'll tell them it's Commander Asturian. It's a nice statue. Ornamental. Gardens need statues."
The ground sloped into a natural depression not far from the low walls of the vegetable garden. Loghain set himself to digging, and told the girls to start gathering the bones from the keep.
Morrigan shrugged. "I suppose it must be done. Very well: I can incinerate them here and thus we will not need a large burial pit."
"I'd appreciate it," Loghain said wryly. "Less digging is always a fine idea."
Ranger disagreed. Digging was great fun. He set to work with a will beside his good friend. It took most of a day to find all the remains and dispose of them.
"Should we bury Sophia by herself, do you think?" wondered Maude, fingering the bones of the late Commander.
"No," Loghain said crisply. "She led these men. She stayed with them to the end. We shouldn't separate her from them now."
They stood back to let Morrigan char the remains to white ash. The witch was beginning to look a little tired. Luckily, they seemed to be nearly finished.
"That's another thing to add to the list," Maude remarked. "When we go back to Denerim, let's order a nice stone to mark this place. And maybe grow some roses here. That would be very pretty. All castles should have a rose garden."
Loghain and Morrigan's eyes met, and they silently agreed that it took the strangest things to restore Maude's spirits.
It was a pleasant enough day when they came down from the Peak, and bode well to be a pleasant enough night. Rather than riding all the way to the North Road Inn, they agreed to camp at a rather pretty spot near a shaded pond. Tents were up and fire crackling in short order.
"I really don't see what this area is so thinly inhabited," Maude observed, as she brushed the horses down. "It's quite nice. Once you get down from the mountains the soil is actually pretty good. What are you looking at, Loghain?"
He squatted by the tracks, considering. "Deer. These are recent. I think we might have chance if we go down that stream bed." He strung his bow and slung his quiver over his back. Ranger bounded up, eager for the sport. "Come along if you like."
"Morrigan!" the girl said, "Do you want to hunt deer with us?"
"Let's see…er, no. I have no wish to crawl through the underbrush. Go play with your silly bows and arrows."
It was quite a pleasure, hunting on a fine day with a pretty young woman who was a good shot and knew how to be stealthy and wait for the right moment. It took time, and the sky was rosy in the west by the time they returned with a small buck, already field dressed.
Maude danced ahead, pleased with their success.
"Stay with Loghain, Ranger! I'll run back to camp and build up the fire."
Loghain heard the confrontation before he saw it. Morrigan was in icy conversation with three armed men. Three very large Templars, who did not seem pleased with her. Loghain gave a low word to the dog, who twitched restlessly. "Steady, Ranger. Let's see what's going on…" He scanned the landscape, wanting to know if these Templars were alone, or part of a larger force.
"Perhaps I should use smaller words to accommodate your puny understanding?" Morrigan drawled scornfully. "I have seen no such person."
"Morrigan," Maude asked, as she stepped out of cover, "are these men harassing you?"
Loghain grimaced at the edge in her voice. It would not take much for the Templars to end up dead in short order.
One of the Templars pushed at a pile of gear with the toe of his boot. He seemed to be the leader, though their faces were all concealed by their helmets.
"What are a pair of young women doing out alone?" he barked. Loghain mentally dubbed him Alpha Templar.
Another Templar added earnestly, "It's dangerous for ladies. We have reports of darkspawn in the arling!" His voice was young and anxious. A novice, fresh from the monastery, most likely.
"I think this one may be a mage, ser," the third said officiously, pointing at Morrigan. "I can just smell it." His subordinate posture screamed "loyal flunky."
"They may both be mages," Alpha Templar remarked. Loghain decided he was a pompous arse.
Maude considered them, her voice sweet and poisonous. "We are Grey Wardens, and I will thank you to stop kicking at my belongings with your dirty boot."
"Grey Wardens!" Loyal Flunky scoffed. "We've heard that one before!"
"Apparently, they believe us to be apostates," Morrigan told Maude.
"Right," Maude snorted, scornfully turning her back on the intruders as she routed out the roasting spit. "That's absolutely right. They absolutely nailed us. We are apostates, clad in prodigiously expensive armor, because all apostates are fabulously rich and carry swords. I suppose the griffons on my breastplate don't convey 'Grey Warden' to three Chantry stooges who spent the Blight hiding from the darkspawn."
"How do we know you're Grey Wardens? You could have stolen that armor," sputtered Loyal Flunky, clearly put out at the aspersions cast on his courage.
"You know, Morrigan, I've decided I don't answer questions put by men too cowardly to show their faces. Besides, how do I know they're Templars? They could just as easily be bandits who killed Templars and stole their armor."
"We really are Templars," protested Young Novice.
Alpha Templar took a step forward, snarling, "Your attitude needs an adjustment, young woman."
Maude ignored him. "I'm going to start dinner, Morrigan. Loghain got a deer." She twirled the roasting spit in her hands. If she decided to throw it, there would be Templar on the menu.
Sudden nervous shuffling. The Templars' metal heads swiveled back and forth. Loghain had seen no sign that there were more of them, and decided that he had waited long enough for his dramatic entrance. He strode out from the woods, bow in hand, the buck slung over his shoulder. Ranger padded along at his side.
"It's him," whispered Young Novice. "I saw him in Denerim. It's really him."
"Shut up, Desmond," snapped Alpha Templar.
Loghain glared at the faceless warriors, shrugging the deer off, his bow held loosely but at the ready. He had put an arrow through the eyeslit of helmets like theirs more than once. Long ago, granted, but he was still in practice.
"Er…my lord," Alpha Templar addressed him, civil but suspicious. "Are these females under your protection?"
Maude absolutely hissed, and the roasting spit stilled in her hands. Alpha Templar had a really good chance of being dead within the next few seconds.
"This lady," Loghain growled softly, "is my wife, and she needs no man's protection, as you will find if you continue to insult her. And that lady is a Grey Warden and our companion. And you are out of line. I suggest you leave our camp at once."
Maude burst out, "What did he mean, he'd heard someone claim to be a Grey Warden before? Loghain, I think these men have been going around murdering Grey Wardens!"
"No!" Young Novice was horrified. "We would never do that! We never killed Grey Wardens! That would be…er…wrong!"
Loyal Flunky huffed, "How were we supposed to know you were Wardens? You should have a uniform, or something."
"Leave our camp at once and don't come back," Loghain kept his voice level and calm, hoping to keep Maude from an outright attack. "Now."
Ranger growled, and sank into a menacing crouch.
"See here, my lord," protested the leader, now not quite so superior when faced with a genuine alpha. "You can't interfere with the Chantry! We are tracking a known apostate, and it is your duty to assist us."
Morrigan said, "They asked me if an apostate ran through our camp. I have attempted to make them understand that I have not seen such a person."
"It was not your words, but your tone we objected to, Grey Warden," sneered Alpha Templar.
"Our sister has given you her answer,' Loghain said, "and she is not required to grovel to you. We have seen no apostate, and now leave."
If Alpha Templar insisted on posturing another minute, Loghain decided he would set the dog on him. They had already wasted enough time on these fools. However, Young Novice immediately obeyed Loghain's words and turned away. The other two grumbled, and then followed.
Maude was watching them, tense and ready. "I still think we should kill them," she muttered. "Except for the boy. He's not as bad as the others."
"If we killed those two, we'd have to kill him as well," Loghain pointed out, glad there was something to hold her back before she declared war on the Chantry.
"Idiots," Maude hissed, and then dashed over to a whitewood tree, swinging up on a branch to look after the Templars. She hunkered down, watching them disappear into the distance. Loghain blew out a breath, and worked on butchering their dinner. Morrigan smirked and sat down to help him. Ranger lay down by Loghain, snapping up the tidbits he was thrown.
A little later, Maude dropped down to the ground. "They're gone," she said. "Bastards.'
Ranger rose up and shook himself, and then trotted to the edge of the pond, nosing about. He paused and crouched down, head lowered, uttering a soft growl.
"What is it, boy?" Maude asked, curious. "What have you found?"
A splash, and then another. A figure was rising from the pond: naked, dripping, wiping wet hair from his face. For one blinding, shocking moment, Loghain thought he was seeing Maric. Surely it was just a trick of the light…
"Me," declared the naked young man. "He found me."
Note: Thanks to my splendid reviewers: KCousland, Shakespira, wisecracknmama, Sarah1281, Josie Lange, Lehni, icey cold, Chatoyant Tiger, Phygmalion, Thorn of the Dead Gods, Amhran Comhrac, wayfaringpanda, Nithu, Prisoner 24601, Gene Dark, RakeeshJ4, Aoi24, Zute, mutive, Windchime68, JackOfBladesX, Angurvddel, Evalyne, Piceron, mille libri, fastfowarmotion, and callalili.
Thanks so much for your support and opinions!
Writing the other Wardens for money was first done in Amhran Comhrac's Apostates of Amaranthine, so I must give credit to that great story. It makes perfect sense, of course.