The Keening Blade
Chapter 19: Andraste Redux
Even with a warm girl and a comfortable bed, it was hard for Loghain to sleep in very long in the morning. He had been raised a farmer, after all, and there was always much to be done at daybreak. As an outlaw, a rebel, a soldier, his habits had not changed much. There was always something that needed doing. The moment the neighbor's bloody rooster crowed, he knew the horses required his attention.
A moment of resolve, and he slipped from underneath the blankets and more or less dressed himself. Outside, the eastern sky was shimmering in pearls and roses over the rolling meadows of Honnleath. Loghain paused to admire it all, feeling unutterable things.
The stable was next door, and Loghain found caring for the beasts relaxing. He fetched them water from the well, mucked out the stalls, forked over some hay. The horses accepted his care with mild appreciation. Meghren sneered, and took the food and water for granted as his just due. Loghain patted the mule's flank, recognizing him as a kindred spirit.
He was not the only one stirring at this early hour. A woman up the hill was going out to her chicken coop to hunt for eggs. She saw Loghain, and gave him a wave, and a respectful, "Good morning, Warden!"
He waved back. They would be here a few days at least, and there was no need to make enemies. It was odd. He had never lived in a village before. Really and truly. His first sixteen years had been spent on the family freehold, with occasional trips to town. Their closest neighbors had been a mile away. After...what had happened... he had lived a vagabond existence, mostly in forest camps, during the Rebellion. After the war, his time had been spent largely in the cities of Denerim or Gwaren.
So they would have neighbors here: neighbors every day. Grateful neighbors, but neighbors all the same. Loghain wondered how it would all play out. Maude would be charming, Anders would chatter endlessly, and Morrigan would probably offend everyone.
A man was coming down the hill, leading a pair of cows out of the village to the meadow. Somehow the darkspawn had missed these. A great deal of the livestock had perished, and the rest would have to be watched for signs of Blight. Another reason to stay. No doubt the villagers would hesitate to kill and burn as they should. The cowherd exchanged nods with Loghain, and Loghain remembered him as one of the men who had taken refuge behind the barrier.
At least the fires were out. Enough earth had been heaped on them to smother the blazes. It was too bad about Wilhelm's tower, but unless the villagers had a mason among them, rubble it would remain. Perhaps the stone could be used to build up the village walls a bit...
The wind changed, blowing from the the south, where they had burned the darkspawn. Loghain grimaced at the residual odor. A good rain or two would settle all that, eventually.
He returned to the cottage, and Ranger brushed past him, trotting out to greet the morning in his special doggy way. Loghain left the door cracked open, so the dog could get back in when he liked, and then turned his attention to the fireplace, which now held nothing but cold ashes. It did not take long to have a fire going and to put pot of water over it to heat. Thumping noises echoed from upstairs. He snorted. It had been inevitable, he supposed. Anders and Morrigan had been dancing about the point since they met. He paused, imagining... After all, he had nearly...slept...with Morrigan himself...
He eased the bedroom door open.
"I'm not asleep," Maude said softly from the shadows. "Just shamelessly lazy. Come back to bed."
Why not? He cast off boots, breeches and shirt, and slid back into the enticing warmth, spooning cozily against her back.
"Oh!" she murmured. "What a horrible, cold, bristly male person you are! When did you last shave?"
He rasped his cheek against the soft skin of her shoulder, and then turned her over, rasping the adorable breasts as well before he suckled them each in turn. He took care to pay as much attention to her left breast as to the other, lest she take it into her silly head that he was put off by her scars. Fierce and impatient, she pulled him into her arms, cradling his body with hers, and moaned gratefully as he buried himself within her.
They were quite good at this now, and fell into a perfect rhythm without any awkwardness. Exquisitely responsive, she needed very little attention before she was thrashing under him, moaning incoherently. And then it took only a little more before she did it all over again. He had never thought of himself as a particularly accomplished lover until his life with Maude, but Maude was a persuasive girl, and not only with words. He especially enjoyed being persuaded to lose all control and grasp her close, bucking urgently. And then there were the tender words and the soft kisses, and the utter peace as he rolled away, one arm still holding her. They nestled blissfully, curled together, and in all the world there was nothing but the two of them.
For a few moments, at least. One could lie there, half floating , only so long when there was work to be done. Besides, he decided, he was rather hungry. His stomach rumbled in agreement, and Maude stirred.
"Right. Breakfast. I suppose this means I must actually dress, since hot porridge is very uncomfortable on bare skin."
"I'll help you," he offered.
"No," she said, lightly slapping his face. "You're going to shave."
She kissed him there afterwards, to take away the sting, and they enjoyed the pleasure of dressing together. Loghain made Maude sit while he brushed out her thick and wavy hair, and then braided it into a single long plait. She tossed it over her shoulder and gave him another kiss, and then swaggered out to start breakfast.
"They brought us a big jar of honey, too," Maude told him happily. "Someone here in the village must keep bees. I hope they weren't killed. I mean the beekeeper. Of course, I hope they didn't kill the bees, either. I wonder if bees can be Blighted, or if they just fly away and make a new hive somewhere safe? I think beekeeping is very interesting. There was an old woman who lived in a cottage near Highever who kept bees, and she'd let me help sometimes. Bees are amazing creatures. Morwen showed me how to extract the honey from the comb, and when she had enough wax she would let me help her make candles and her special lip balm. It was such fun…So anyway we have bread and honey. We have eggs! What shall I do with them…?" She dithered on. Loghain smiled to himself as the razor skimmed him back into smoothness.
The mages had no trouble coming down to breakfast, once all the work was done. Anders looked uncommonly smug.
"I hope we didn't make too much noise," he said, completely insincere. Morrigan dug her fingers into his upper arm. It looked affectionate, aside from the blue sparks and Anders' wide-eyed jump.
Loghain snorted, "Not at all. I'm sure they didn't hear you in Denerim."
Maude smiled sweetly. Morrigan preened, obviously pleased with herself. Loghain only hoped the domestic bliss would last.
For the most part, it did. Loghain always remembered their days in Honnleath as a particularly—curiously—happy time.
Maude persuaded him, early on, that they were not going to reveal the existence of this place to the world at large. In fact, it did not take much persuasion for him to agree that he would not even tell Anora, since she might feel it behooved her to tell her husband, and then Chantry Boy would certainly spill it to the Grand Cleric, and then all these people would either be killed or imprisoned. Probably all killed. Even the non-mages would be killed as they tried to defend a parent, a spouse, a child.
They weren't doing any harm, and no one else wanted to live here. Loghain had always tolerated the Chantry- because you never knew when some nobleman or other was going to turn out to be fanatically devout-but he could not say he liked or approved of the Chantry. They were at bottom an Orlesian institution, and inevitably they would come down on the side of Orlais…with all sorts of fine words to soften the act of treachery. He had not forgotten the Chantry's collaboration in the conquest and occupation of Ferelden.
No. He was not entirely comfortable with magic, but he had come to understand just how much of that discomfort was the result of childhood indoctrination, and how little was based in reality.
Magic was just so immensely useful. Yes, train the mages, but once they were done, let them go and serve in the army, or be healers, or do as they liked. Loghain saw no reason to lock them away to moulder away in the Circle Tower.
Listening to Anders rant about the Circle was affecting him, certainly: but Anders seemed reasonable to him. The Harrowing and the Rite of Tranquility both seemed horribly like the Templars were deliberately culling the mages. Anders believed he had not been made Tranquil only because of his talent as a Healer, which was prized—at least within the walls of the Circle. As to the fact that some mages asked to be made Tranquil, Anders replied that many were terrified of the unknown dangers of the Harrowing, and knew only that a Templar would kill them if they failed some unspecified test. Also, Anders told him, the Tranquil were useful to the Chantry, since their slave labor cleaned and fed the Circle, and produced the profitable items offered for sale at the Wonders of Thedas.
Maude believed that everyone who lived in Ferelden was a Fereldan. She not only said it, but she lived it.
"It was the sudden tumble, you see," she told him. "Here I was at the very, very top, and the next day I was a penniless recruit, marching along in mismatched third-rate armor, I got to see Ferelden from the bottom, and I learned that things are not so satisfactory there. Besides, I was thrown in with all the groups that most human Fereldans spit on in the streets, and I had to understand them and work with them. And then these same despised people manned up and saved our country. And got precious little in return, I might add, but it would have been silly to expect much more, I suppose."
"The Dalish elves were given land enough for a home," Loghain pointed out.
Maude smiled, amused and unconvinced. "They were given land here in the south that nobody wanted anyway. It's marshy, unproductive, Blight-tainted, and unpleasantly cold for half of the year. It's not like the Crown granted them something desirable!" She laughed. "With the elves' luck, they'll discover gold or diamonds there, and then the humans will move in and say that Dalish were never given it at all, and that it belongs to real people who will properly exploit it: that is, humans!"
That was another thing: he had never known Maude to be so sane and balanced as here in Honnleath. She had a domestic streak that was satisfied with life in their little cottage. Not that she had become a full-time housekeeper: she was too busy patrolling and studying Wilhelm's books for that. A number of the village women took charge of the Warden's laundry, housecleaning, and meals, but Maude still had the opportunity to dabble in cooking when she liked, and she seemed to enjoy the simplicity of it all. Besides, these people were poor, grateful for her presence, and in need of her protection, and thus she apparently did not regard them as rightful prey. Loghain remembered that she had behaved somewhat the same in the alienage during the Battle of the Denerim. After all, she had been raised in the duties of a noble lady, and Loghain thought it unlikely that she would have been taught to go about plundering the homes of her Highever vassals.
The Wardens patrolled the area surrounding the village daily. One mage went along, while the other worked in Wilhelm's fascinating study. Progress was moving along on translating his notes. In addition, those who had magic were being trained in some of the more aggressive arts by Morrigan and Anders. Everyone with sufficient magic was taking turns raising the barrier wards, both morning and evening. Everyone else was made to practice archery or learn to use a blade. Some, whose magic was weak, were doing all those things.
At breakfast one morning, Morrigan pointed out the limitations of the barrier enchantment to her fellow Wardens.
"It must be anchored by something material. Stone is best, but trees will do. The barrier may be attacked by destroying the anchor, but darkspawn are too mindless to hit upon that."
Loghain considered this, and said, "And that would make the enchantment very effective within the tunnel that leads up the mountain to Soldier's Peak. It would anchored on all sides by stone."
"Oh, yes," Morrigan agreed. "Twill be very powerful there. But 'tis useful in other ways as well. As the barrier permits the passage of light and air, it could be used to imprison individuals, by casting it over a window or a doorway."
"Oh!" Maude cried. "A version of it was used to imprison Anora at Howe's estate. But I brought it down by killing the mage."
"There's a consideration," Loghain remarked. "One must protect the mage who casts the spell."
"Here's something interesting!" Anders said, bringing a notebook to the table. Maude frowned. She disapproved of reading at meals, and was just about to say so, when Anders continued.
"I don't think that golem killed Wilhelm at all! It was the demon…I'm sure of it. Wilhelm was messing about with the demon he had trapped in the puzzle room, and it got to him somehow."
"That's interesting," Maude shrugged. "You should tell Matthias. Now put your book away, and sit up properly to the table. My old Nan would rake you over the coals if she saw you now!"
Anders grinned. "Yes, Mother!"
The time had come to make some choices. With the month of Firstfall, the weather could turn bad at any time. They had spent more time in Honnleath than they had originally intended. Either they must winter here, or they must leave soon.
And then go where? They had accomplished their mission. They could return to Denerim with Cailan's armor and Duncan's weapons and Eamon's damning letters. Maude thought it was a bit early to move against Eamon, so those would have to be set aside, for now. They did not want to go due north to Redcliffe. Loghain could not imagine that he would be welcome there, Grey Warden or not.
The four of them sat at the little rough-hewn table at the cottage, eating a remarkably good stew that Anders and Maude had concocted between them. They lingered over their cups of ale, talking.
"West Hill was hit hard by the darkspawn," Loghain considered. "Perhaps instead of going home by the West Road, we might go up beside Lake Calenhad. There must be roving bands there."
"Kristoff was going to patrol on the east side of Lake Calenhad, moving down the Lake Road," Maude told them. "Why don't we go up the west side, and see where things stand? We can go through all of West Hill that way." She thought a little more. "If the weather gets really bad, we could pay a visit to Orzammar first. They don't have weather there."
Anders saw the expression on Morrigan's face. "You don't seem to care for the idea."
"Oh, no! I adore the prospect of a million tons of stone over my head, no sunlight, and breathing the fetid exhalations of drunken dwarves. And they are all of them drunken: all of them. I cannot tell you how I long to taste lichen bread and nug once more."
"Orzammar is really interesting," Maude maintained. She asked Loghain, "Have you ever been there?"
"Actually, no," he confessed. "Maric loved to travel, which meant that I had to remain behind and run Ferelden while he was laying on the charm. He went there about eight years ago, and took Cailan with him."
Morrigan growled, and put her head in her hands. Maude patted her arm consolingly. "I'm sure that they'll put us up in the Royal Palace this time! They'll feed us all sorts of surfacer foods to show off. You remember the party that Bhelen threw for his coronation. No nug served there!"
Morrigan, only half-convinced, regarded her pityingly. "'Tis all very well, but you know that some catastrophe will befall them, and it will all end with us having to go into the Deep Roads. The King's infant son will have unaccountably strayed there, or he will need a lost family heirloom which he has never wanted or needed before, or he will have made a wager with one of his worthless nobles. Then we shall have to spend a ridiculous amount of time sorting out his affairs, and receive nothing but empty praise for our trouble—if we are not all gruesomely slain by the darkspawn."
"Optimistic, aren't you?" Anders teased. Morrigan made a face.
"If he asks us to fight darkspawn," Loghain said flatly, "we have to. We owe the dwarves. I have…always wanted to see Orzammar for myself. They must know things about the darkspawn we do not, and I would like to visit the Shaperate, and perhaps copy their maps."
Anders rubbed Morrigan's back in little comforting circles. She said, "I know 'tis on the way, but you were not thinking about revisiting that ghastly temple again, were you? To wheedle another pinch of ashes from your Prophet?"
Maude rolled her eyes. "Of course I considered it. More ashes might be useful, but I still have some, and I have no idea how a return visit would be received. Remember that huge library? I'll bet there's lot of interesting things there. We'd need a proper expedition, as I see it. If one of the dragon eggs hatched, we might have a serious fight on our hands. I think we'd better put that off for another time, with a bigger party, more supplies and equipment, at least two wagons, and summer weather. It's cold up in the mountains even then, and now...ao, no, I don't think we should go there. Here we are at the beginning of Firstfall. If we were snowed in at the temple, things might get fairly grim."
The map of Ferelden was rolled out and examined. "What's this place called Haven?" asked Anders. "I've never heard of it. Couldn't we stop there?"
Maude and Morrigan caught each other's eye.
Maude shook her head. "I really don't think we want to go there..."
Morrigan shrugged. "We largely annihilated the village. I think it unlikely they would put up the slightest resistance." She told Anders, "The village was full of dragon-worshiping fanatics. There was a High Dragon up at the old temple whom they called Andraste. Maude thought one of their priests most manly and compelling, but she killed him for all that."
Maude waved that away. "Well, we killed that dragon, but as I say, there were a lot of eggs up there, and we probably didn't get them all. The village of Haven itself was creepy, and not just because they had a habit of murdering travelers and chopping up the remains. The fact that we found most of the remains at the village store-where they also sold provisions-didn't make the place any more appealing."
"Thrifty of them, I suppose," Morrigan remarked. "The Chasind also eat the flesh of the dead, but only as a sign of respect."
Maude tapped the map. "Well, why don't we at least plan a look-in at Orzammar? We can do a bit of trading there, and visit the Shaperate. We should be able to get there within a week, if the weather holds. Much of the way we'd travel on the Imperial Highway, and that's always decent."
The people of Honnleath did not particularly want them to go. Anders' magic classes had been well-attended, and the villagers were immensely grateful to the Wardens both for saving them in the first place, and subsequently protecting them. Anders had made good friends with Matthias and his family, and promised to try to visit again someday. On the day of departure, everyone was there to see the Wardens off, bringing gifts and well-wishes. The children actually cried, and they were not the only ones.
Matthias approached them hesitantly. "There's one more thing…"
He looked very embarrassed. "When Anders told me about Father, I…well, before then I didn't want you to get hurt. It would have been a poor return for all you've done. But now that I know that Father was killed by the demon… Look, I found out something about the golem. There are some words you have to speak to activate it: Dulen ham."
"Oh?" Maude eyes widened, and her smile flashed out like lightning. She jumped down and raced across the common.
Loghain blew out a breath, and trudged after her. He should have known she would get her way in the end. The massive stone creature stood over seven feet tall, and was vaguely man-shaped: as if someone had massed boulders together in an attempt to approximate human form. He had seen this golem before, in the days of the Rebellion, but it looked...different, somehow...
"You know, I remember Wilhelm's golem as being much…bigger."
"You were younger then, Loghain. Things always seem bigger to the young."
"I was a grown man at the time!" he shot back, rather testily.
She only smiled and held out the control rod. "Dulen ham!"
A low rumble, like a minor earthquake. A high grinding of stone against stone that set his teeth on edge. The creature moved, dust sifting through long-unused joints. It was slow, but it was definitely moving. The face—if one could call it that, turned down, and then toward Maude. Inanimate stone eyes suddenly flared in a blaze of lyrium. Some of the village women shrieked in alarm.
To everyone's amazement a voice issued from the golem: a voice not of submission, but of sardonic bemusement.
"I knew that the day would come when someone would find the control rod. Not even a mage this time. Probably stumbled across the rod by accident, I suppose. Typical."
Maude's eyes opened very wide. Taking a cautious step forward, she said, "Er, hello to you, too. Actually, I did not just stumble upon it."
"That implies that it knew what is was doing. Shocking. I've stood here for years and years, watching the villagers, and there was not the slightest inkling that they knew what they were doing at all. Between their stupidity and the flocks of filthy birds using me for target practice, life in this village has been rather unpleasant."
Morrigan, ever acerbic, added, "It seems to me that you should be grateful for the opportunity to stretch your limbs once more."
"More mages," the golem snarked. "Charming."
"Do you have a name?" asked Maude.
"Perhaps," the golem said, a hint of acid in its voice. "I may have forgotten it in all the years I was called 'Golem.' 'Golem, do this,' 'Do be a good golem and squash that insipid bandit,' and my favorite, 'Golem, carry me. I tire of walking.'" It fixed burning eyes on Maude and asked, very casually, "It does have the control rod doesn't it? I am awake, so it must…"
"It does," Maude answered instantly. "Right here in its hand."
"Hmm… I see the control rod, yet I feel… Go on, order me to do something!"
Loghain could not remember Wilhelm's golem ever speaking. This creature, he suspected, might never stop. And the deep voice was positively…patronizing. It was amused and superior and insufferable.
"Hmm. Pick him up!" Maude commanded, pointing to Anders.
"Hey!" Anders protested. The golem did not move.
"Hmmm...And nothing. I feel nothing. No. I feel not the slightest compulsion to do a thing you say. I suppose this means that the rod is…broken?"
Maude was thinking over the possibilities, very quickly. "Shouldn't you…be…happy about that?"
"Perhaps. I find myself at a loss," Shale confessed. "I certainly will not remain here to be a perch for foul flying creatures, but while I appear to have Free Will, I have absolutely no idea what to do with it. What about it?" the golem asked Maude, "It must have had some reason to awaken me. What did it intend to do with me?"
"I wanted you to come with us!" Maude declared confidently. "We are Grey Wardens. We have interesting adventures, and we fight darkspawn. That is the worthiest occupation in all Thedas!"
"The darkspawn are an evil that must be destroyed, it is true," the golem mused, "though they are not as evil as birds. It doesn't know of a heroic order devoted to the extermination of bird life? No? I suppose I have two options: go with it, or go elsewhere. I do not even know what lies beyond this village."
"The creature might slow us down," Morrigan observed. "We would have to slow the horses to a walk in order for it to lumber after us."
"I can run rather fast," the golem countered. "and I never get tired. Not a bit. Not like squishy creatures with fragile bird-like heads." After a moment, the golem declared, "I will follow it about then…for now. I am called Shale, by the way."
Maude was instantly in polite mode. "I am Maude, and I'm very happy to meet you. This is Loghain, this is Morrigan, and this is Anders. And this is my dog, Ranger."
Ranger cocked his head.
Shale lowered its head and studied Ranger. "I warn you, dog. Do you know how many of your kind urinated on me in this village? If I see one of those legs of yours lift so much as an inch in my direction…"
Ranger whined and backed away.
Shale continued, "I am glad we have come to an understanding. At least your kind can be reasoned with…unlike filthy feathered fiends!" Shale considered the matter, and finally said, "Yes, I shall go with it. The journey would be something new. My existence over the past age has been...humdrum. Dull. Boring, except for the times when the mage and I were slaughtering squishy creatures."
"Orlesians," Loghain supplied. "I remember seeing you with Wilhelm. You were most impressive. And those squishy creature were Orlesians, a most inferior and infamous people. Every time you...er...squished...one, you made this world a better place."
"You remember me? We have met?"
"Wilhelm did not introduce you, but we certainly fought on the same side."
"Ah. A comrade-in-arms, so to speak. I shall shed one crystal tear of nostalgia for the good old days that I do not remember. And now, I shall wait for you at the gate, not wishing to participate in your wet and noisy leave-takings."
Just as well, for the villagers were very nervous at the creature's reawakening, and hurried out of its way. The Wardens made their last farewells, and it was time to go.
Matthias whispered to Loghain. "I still wouldn't trust that creature! I'd keep a watchful eye on it, if I were you!"
Loghain assured the man that he always kept a watchful eye on everything, and at last they passed beyond the walls of Honnleath. The golem moved along with their trotting horses, alarmingly fast, and not as loudly as Loghain had expected.
He said to Shale, "It's odd, but I seem to remember you as being...larger? I'm certain of it. Did you somehow...shrink?"
Shale sighed, trotting along tirelessly. "My former master's wife complained that I was too tall for the doorways."
"How does one shrink a golem?"
"With a chisel," sneered Shale. "And a lot of nerve."
The horses did not particularly enjoy the presence of Shale. That large and noisy presence was a new thing in their experience, and their experience told them that new things were generally bad. Loghain spoke to the golem sternly about the matter, and got a sarcastic response. Then he sent Maude to do the same, with far better results. She sweetened her judicious coaxing with a heaping helping of flattery.
"Are those...crystals...embedded in you?" she asked, her voice laden with admiration. "They are so pretty!"
"They are, aren't they? And they enhance my powers as well. If you come across any more, I may be able to make use of them. You don't think they make me look fat?"
"Of course not!" Maude assured the creature. "They're very slimming!"
They came across a few scattered bands of darkspawn on their way north. The golem was certainly effective against them. However, it was more important than ever to control one's mount. Anders ended up on the ground more than once. And then came the day when Morrigan transformed into a hawk. When she returned from scouting their trail, the golem had quite a bit to say about it.
"So the swamp witch is also a bird," Shale considered. "I should have known. I suggest the swamp witch take care where it perches."
"Stop calling me that!" Morrigan snapped. "Swamp witch indeed!"
"Very well, I shall call it the Swamp Warden. It will be part of the complete set: The Elder Warden, the Younger Warden, the Swamp Warden, the Talkative Warden, and the Dog Warden. So charming."
Loghain ground his teeth, and finally said, "Must you call me the Elder Warden? I hardly think my age is my defining characteristic."
Too smoothly, Shale replied, "Very well, it shall be as the Grumpy Warden desires."
Maude cleared her throat, and smirked at Loghain.
"I don't think I'm that talkative," Anders complained. "Am I?"
Loghain and Morrigan snorted in unison, and then looked at one another uneasily. Maude smirked again.
"It is constantly talking," Shale declared. "Except in combat, when it squeals loudly and spurts fluids. And, of course, when it is coupling with the Swamp Warden."
"Er, Shale.." Maude began gently. "It is not really the done thing in polite society to take about other people's...er...couplings."
"Is this polite society? Interesting. I was under the impression that I was associating with Grey Wardens. They couple so frequently that it surprising that they find time to fight the darkspawn. However, just as the Younger Warden pleases. A curious phenomenon, nonetheless. I watched many couplings during the time I spent immobile in Honnleath. Or should I say I was forced to watch? You do know that this often ends in reproduction? I have seen it many times."
Morrigan snarled, "Well, you won't be seeing it here!"
"I don't know," Anders considered, as he jogged along on his nervous horse. "It's not such a terrible thought. Creating a new life might be a great deal of fun."
"Then you," Morrigan said testily, "are welcome to feed and wipe all the squalling infants you care to give birth to. I have better things to do." She said to Shale, "Coupling is interesting to you, is it? I fear you are destined only to watch. Any lover of yours would be ground to powder directly."
"Hmm," Shale said, unfazed. "The Swamp Warden sees me winning the affections of another golem? Most golems are slaves to whomever holds their control rod."
"It's exactly the same for humans," Anders assured him. Morrigan shot a quick blue spark of lightning at him, and shifted to bird form, skimming just over Shale's head.
They found the Imperial Highway after three days. Travel became easier and swifter, and they made good time as they skirted Redcliffe. Loghain had almost allowed himself to believe that they would have no difficulty reaching Orzammar within the week, when the skies opened and the air turned white with snow. Just a dusting, at first, but the weather was threatening. Loghain had camped in winter in the past, and had no particular desire to risk it again.
"We have to consider the horses, even if we can cope," he said. "We're not far from the Sulcher River Bridge. It looks like we'll have to shelter in that village of yours, Maude."
Morrigan grimaced in disgust, and Maude shrugged.
"There are plenty of houses, as I remember. Most of them are probably uninhabited. There might even be provisions there that are still usable. We can get there in half a day, since we have the secret trail marked on our map. All right then, Haven it is. Our provisions should hold out fine for a few days. Sorry to delay our trip to Orzammar, Shale."
"I require no supplies or provisions," Shale pointed out virtuously. "Nor does the cold trouble me. So unfortunate for you lot, being the soft, squishy things you are!"
The trail climbed up the foothills of the Frostbacks, clinging to the river. If the weather had not been so unpleasant, Loghain would have found the the country rather beautiful. Rapids and little waterfalls made an eerie music of their own. There were astonishing rock formations, and at one point, the trail led them through a natural tunnel in the hills. Without the map, one would think the hill impenetrable. As it was, there was plenty of room for riders on horseback moving in single file, and even Shale could get through without smashing against the walls. Then they started moving up again.
"Haven is essentially on three level," Maude told him. "It's even steeper than Redcliffe. The Chantry is at the very top, and that's where one can access the narrow trail to the old temple. It's nearly a two days journey from the village, and pretty hard going. We'll have to climb pretty high just to reach the village."
Morrigan flew ahead and saw no signs of hostile activity. They pressed upward and onward, and finally saw some small, scattered buildings.
"No guard," Maude said to Morrigan. "It looks quiet here. "See there, Loghain! That's the path up to the next lot of houses. The store was up there, too..."
"Look!" Anders cried.
There were people further up the hill, coming down slowly: mostly women and children. The children were sobbing loudly, and their terrified mothers were trying to quiet them. Loghain looked around for the menfolk: not drawing his sword, but ready for an attack. The approaching group could not be much more than two dozen, but it was hard to tell, since some were babes in arms. Maude cocked her head, eyes bright with curiosity, and stepped out to speak to the villagers.
Before she could say anything, they fell to their knees-every one of them- and a woman cried, "Spare us your wrath, Mighty One! We come before you in submission. We beg you, O Most Glorious! Let our children live, at least!"
"They mean me!" Maude whispered to Loghain, highly delighted at her reception. To the terrified villagers, she gave a friendly wave. "It's quite all right. Don't kill any of me, and I won't kill any of you!"
More groveling ensued.
"-She forgives!'"
"-She forgives!"
"-Her mercy is boundless!"
"-O Radiant Avatar of the Beloved!"
Anders remarked, "You certainly made an impression, I'd say. Any chance we might get food and a roof? The compliments are nice and all, but..."
Maude was enjoying herself entirely too much. Loghain thought this sort of fulsome praise very bad for her, and he called out, "Enough! We require food and shelter and a stable for our horses."
There were some frightened whispers. The village women looked at each other in bewilderment.
"-Could that be him?"
"-But didn't he-?"
"-Sssh! She has forgiven us our transgressions. Why would She not forgive him as well?"
"-Oh, to have lived long enough to see this!"
"No, really!" Maude spoke over the clamor. "The snow's really about to come down. Isn't there somewhere we could stay?"
The village moved forward as one, and swept along beside them, not even cowering away from the fearsome presence of Shale. They were led up and up, in a kind of holiday procession, all the way to the top of the hill, and to a large, handsome, and rather old-fashioned Chantry. The few remaining men ran ahead to throw open the doors. The Wardens were not even allowed to dismount, but rode into the sacred precinct, horses, mule, golem, and all. Maude looked around her, beaming, enjoying the adulation, and then her smile froze. Loghain glanced over to what she was seeing, and then did a double-take.
There was a pretty good likeness of Maude in armor, done in some sort of local pigment, drawn up there on the back wall of the Chantry. Flowers and candles surrounded it.
Anders uttered a single incredulous laugh. Luckily,the villagers were already making too much noise to notice it. Morrigan caught his eye and glared at him. It took Loghain every ounce of willpower not to bury his head in his hands.
The villagers were helping Maude from her horse and carrying her, as in a triumphant chariot, to the very apse of the Chantry. They set her there, and she stood, looking at them all, glowing with pride and pleasure. There was a sudden hush, and the villagers waited for her to say something.
She did not fail them. Her lovely voice, pitched to carry, rolled forth with the Chant of Light: words well-known to Loghain, but forgotten by the cultists.
"These truths the Maker has revealed to me:
As there is but one world,
One life, one death, there is
But one god, and He is our Maker.
They are sinners, who have given their love
To false gods..."
Much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Some beating of breasts, too. Loghain rolled his eyes, glad that Leliana was not here to be scandalized by this spectacle. Ranger had pushed to the front, and sat very straight, panting happily, taking for granted that nothing could be more natural than for Maude to be worshiped. Anders had straightened in the saddle, and was watching Maude anxiously. He was no lover of the Chantry. Why then, did he look so concerned? Then he relaxed, and Loghain understood. Maude had skipped the verse castigating mages, and had gone on to the one following:
"All men are the Work of our Maker's Hands,
From the lowest slaves
To the highest kings.
Those who bring harm
Without provocation to the least of His children
Are hated and accursed by the Maker.
The stranger is to be as your brother or sister. Slice him not into bite-sized pieces..."
Loghain listened in horror, as Maude created a tailor-made version of the Chant for Haven.
She put on quite a show. Not a long one, for they were tired and hungry, and the horses needed seeing to, so Maude improvised a verse about that, too.
"The righteous man shows kindness to his beasts: to his horse and hound, to his ox and lamb, yea, even unto his very mule..."
It transpired there was nothing too good for Andraste's horses and mule. They were to be cared for reverently, right there in the narthex of the Chantry. Maude took a quick look about, and crowed with delight.
"Look! The secret room is still locked up! It's full of interesting books." She asked the closest woman. "There is a library beyond that wall. Hasn't anyone been using it?"
The woman bowed low, arms crossed on her breast. "You do me honor to speak to me, Lady. No, no one has touched the books since your overthrow of the false Andraste and her blasphemous priests."
"Good," Maude said. "My disciples there-" she pointed to a flabbergasted Anders and an amused Morrigan "need a place to stay. I'll open the room, and I want you to put a bed in there, and everything else for their comfort."
More bowing and scraping. A bit of kneeling, too. Loghain watched it all with a curious feeling of unreality. Maude was actually pretending to be Andraste. They were all going to burn in hell.
She wasted no timei n picking the lock to the secret door. Part of the wall slid aside, revealing a large library, dusty and deserted, but obviously well used at one time. Maude said to Anders, "See if there's a copy of the Chant of Light in here. If there is, bring it to me so I can edit it."
His jaw dropped. He shut it abruptly, and laughed nervously. "Fine. One Chant of Light, coming up."
Loghain murmured in her ear. "You're going to edit the Chant of Light."
"Why not?" Maude gazed at him, innocent as a kitten. "The Chantry does it all the time. Haven't you ever heard of the Dissonant Verses? No? Those are the parts of the Chant that the Chantry periodically cuts out because they no longer fit in with their political agenda. For example, they cut Thane Shartan, elven hero and Friend of Andraste, right out of the Chant a few hundred years ago, so screw them. Besides," she declared, "I passed Andraste's tests! I was proved worthy, which is more than that la-di-da Divine in Val Royeaux can claim. I've actually been in the presence of Andraste-even though she was ashes at the time-so I think I'm more of an authority on Andraste than any Chantry goon."
There was a large and comfortable bedchamber off to the side of the Chantry, to which Maude-and Loghain and Ranger, too-were led by reverent villagers. One woman, bolder than the rest, touched Loghain on the arm.
"I had not expected to see you with her... I mean, after all that happened..."
It was annoying enough to hear this sort of thing from the nobles. Loghain had no patience with a Maude-worshiping stranger. "Yes, yes," he cut her off. "We settled our differences. We're fine now."
The woman looked at him in joyful wonder. "Then there is hope for us all. I am so glad she forgave you, General Maferath."
He was struck speechless. Maude turned her sweetest, most ironic smile in his direction. The people stood there, staring adoringly, until Loghain shut the door in their faces.
Two days later, Loghain was deeply relieved when the snow stopped and they could leave for Orzammar. At first light, he rounded up Anders and Morrigan, and they forcibly put Maude on her horse and hastened away. Life in Haven had given him new and terrifying historical insights. It was now perfectly clear to him why Andraste's husband Maferath had got completely fed up and turned her over to the Tevinters. Marriage to a living goddess was creepy and horrible, and he could not wait to put Haven behind them. All the good that the simple life in Honnleath had done his young wife had been nullified by the adoration of these lunatics.
As they descended the hill toward the Imperial Highway, Shale remarked to him, "Most curious that squishy creatures would worship yet another squishy creature, rather than a being of true substance. I think the Grumpy Warden agrees with me. Just think: a single blow from me, and the Younger Warden would crumple, spilling liquid everywhere..."
Loghain snarled, "In such a case, you would presently find yourself reduced to paving stones. Very small ones."
"And it claims not to be a worshiper of the Younger Warden. That, too, is curious."
Thanks to my reviewers: RakeeshJ4, Amhran Comhrac, Josie Lange, Shakespira, Sarah1281, icey cold, callalili, demonchick344, Prisoner 24601, Judy, Gene Dark, Enaid Aderyn, mutive, Zute, Fastforwarmotion, Phygmalion, Lehni, JackOfBladesX, mille libri, jenna53, Windchime68, Piceron, and Evalyne.
After the blizzad last week, I felt the need to write about snow. I could have used the Wardens' magic and muscle shoveling out my driveway.