The Keening Blade
Chapter 31: Not For the Faint of Heart
Fergus was in a hurry to go home. He and Cauthrien stayed only a day after the end of the Landsmeet before the Highever banner was unfurled over the departing retinue.
Maude visited long enough in that last day to give her brother a parting kiss and her best wishes, and returned to the compound in a thoughtful mood. Ranger trotted into the study ahead of her and pressed against Loghain's thigh in a friendly, packmate-ish sort of way.
"They're going to be all right," Loghain assured her.
"Probably, " Maude allowed. "As long as Cauthrien doesn't use the 'c' word."
Loghain broke off from reading a very strange letter sent by the Grand Cleric of Hercinia, and looked at her from under his brows. "The 'c' word? There are so many possibilities…"
"'Churl.'"
Maude perched on the desk and took the letter he was reading out of his hands, muttering, "Send them some Ashes of Andraste? They wish!" She tossed the letter aside, and gave him a brilliant smile. "I had a private chat with Cauthrien, and explained to her that the Teyrna of Highever was so much more important than ordinary people that she had no need to insult anybody. Calling someone a churl implies insecurity. And it's rude. My mother never called people names...except when she was actually killing them. That's different. Anyway, Cauthrien apologized for calling me that, so I suppose we're all right now. Pretty much. I really can't think of anyone I would have preferred as a sister-in-law. Fergus could have done lots worse…as in Habren the Hag. Poor Teagan! And I'm going to be an aunt again, which is always good. Caradoc and Cicely."
"What?"
"The names they've chosen. Cauthrien said they had sweet cicely in the garden where she grew up, and she liked it a lot. Too many 'c's' again, but that just my opinion. They're not bad names. Fergus likes 'Ceridwen' better, so we'll see who wins." She fidgeted a bit and then said, "Fergus hopes people will let him alone now…about the Landsmeet and not being king."
Loghain slouched in his chair, thinking. Yes. There had been muttering. Fergus Cousland had the best legal claim to the Crown in all Ferelden: a well-documented claim of inheritance by legitimate direct bloodline. Loghain hated thinking that way, but it was true. Had Cousland wished to, he could have plunged the nation into civil war again. Luckily for everyone, he simply wanted to go home to Highever.
Maude went on, "He won't tell me the names, because he doesn't want to get them in trouble, but a lot of people think Alistair is a big fat fake. Except for not being fat at all. Most of them even like him. But you know, he is an unacknowledged bastard, and there are those who will always believe Eamon plucked a boy who looked a little like King Maric out of nowhere, and used him to oppose you."
"In a sense, they're right," Loghain said brusquely. There was no solid evidence of any kind that Alistair was actually Maric's son. No one now alive had witnessed the birth. There was only Eamon's claim that Maric had said that Alistair was his son. The serving maid mother was dead. There was no Chantry certificate, and no statement sworn under oath. Maric had never spoken of the boy at Redcliffe to Loghain, except once, when Loghain had been taxed by questions from Cailan after a visit, and had gone to Maric for answers. Even then, Maric had not said explicitly, "He is my son," but had danced about the matter, saying first that he wanted the boy "to have a normal life," and then muttering something shame-faced about "preserving Rowan's memory." The most that Loghain himself could swear to was that Maric had certainly implied that Alistair was his. And now that Loghain was Chantry Boy's father-in-law, any such statement would be dismissed as self-serving.
When Anora's time came, she would bear her child in the presence of a good part of the female contingent of the Landsmeet, to make certain that no one could later claim that a little pretender had been smuggled in with a bundle of linen. Loghain wanted Maude there, certainly, to uphold the child's provenance. No one could swear that Alistair was the father, other than Anora, of course, but Anora was a discreet girl, and avoided even the slightest appearance of impropriety.
He knew what the Landsmeet said about Anora, for that matter. It was true she had no blood claim to the throne. Her claim to the throne had essentially consisted in the fact that she was sitting on it. It had helped immeasurably that she was competent. Ordinarily the childless widow of a king was given the title Queen Dowager, a decent manor, and a pension. She was then expected to fade into obscurity, surrounded by cats; or take vows in the Chantry. Anora—even without fatherly partiality—was simply too good for that.
Fergus did not want the throne, thank the Maker. The young man had the power to make everyone's life extremely difficult, but had not done so. Had he made an appearance earlier, Loghain might well have been forced to make peace with him, and Anora to coopt him into a marriage alliance, though it had seemed she would not have found that onerous.
So Ferelden was at peace, as far as it was possible for a country so full of enterprising, able-bodied, and easily irritated people to be at peace. A King and Queen occupied their thrones without any outright rebellion or even significant clandestine opposition. An heir was on the way, which would make the shaky Theirin-Mac Tir regime far more secure. The Army, deprived of Loghain, was operating well enough, a well-oiled machine moving along on its own inertia.
Loghain said aloud, "As long as the Orlesians don't invade, the Chasind don't march out of the south, Flemeth doesn't return, and the darkspawn don't find another Old God, all is well."
"Don't say that!" Maude scolded. "Saying 'All is well' is like throwing down the gauntlet to Fate! You might as well caper naked in the street in a thunderstorm, yelling, "Oi, Maker! I dare you to smite me with a thunderbolt!"
"I admit," Loghain smirked, "that capering naked while defying the Maker sounds much more like something you would do."
Armies might march on their bellies, but proper mastery of logistics provided the victuals. The caravan of wagons to Soldier's Peak would resemble a small army: they would have to marshalled and disciplined. Food would be cooked, latrines dug, tents pitched.
Loghain had carefully planned out the route, with all their stops marked on his map. Their next to last camp would be in the Knotwood Hills, giving them the opportunity to finish looting the dwarven treasury of Kal'Hirol. They must stop at the little village of Knotwood this time, and also pay a call to Breaker's Cove.
The first order of business at the Peak would be to render the outbuildings and one or two rooms in the castle habitable. Nobody would want to live in a tent all summer. Once the builders were set to work, Maude would take some wagons and make a side trip to Drake's Fall and the Dragonbone Wastes, so collect every scrap of precious dragonbone she could find. The cellars of Soldier's Peak were not in prime condition, but the dragonbone would keep there, until a proper market could be found for it.
The building plans for Soldier's Peak were engrossing, but Maude was even more engrossed in building her very own baby. Other than the repulsive potions foisted on them by their mages, Loghain found little to object to in his own duties therewith.
One morning, after he had performed said duties to her satisfaction, Maude said,"Anders is tired of me going to him every single day and making him do that blue-flashy-glowy thingy he does. Every day he says no, I'm not; but soon he'll say yes, I am. I have a feeling about it. Besides, I like the colored lights."
Maude was not the only female consulting with Anders. His skills had revealed that Topaz was expecting puppies. She was not so far along that she would need to ride in the wagon, but in another month she would need rest and quiet. Loghain vowed that she would be the best cared-for mother in Ferelden.
Other than his daughter. Anora was growing nervous as her belly grew bigger. She was very put out about Wynne's absence.
"She said she'd only be gone a month!" Anora complained. "A month at the most! She told me that nothing ever happens at those mages' conferences, and that it would be done and over in no time! What can be keeping her?"
Loghain left Alistair to do the reassuring. It was a husband's duty, after all. Chantry Boy would be better at it than Loghain. It would be no doubt a bit of "Maker's gaze blah-blah-blah" and bit of "Andraste's mercy blah-blah-blah" which, while utterly useless, would be better than Loghain's own pessimistic views on the matter. He disliked Wynne like a festered toe, but it would not help Anora to hear that the old woman's ship had very likely gone down in a storm, or been captured by pirates, or Qunari, or by Orlesians unimpressed by her letters of transit signed by the King and Queen of Ferelden.
"Or she could have been set upon by bandits," Maude added cheerfully, when he confessed his misgivings to her. "or by feral cats. I hear the streets of Cumberland are practically carpeted with them. Or maybe the Templars got fed up, and rendered the entire College of Magi Tranquil. I'll bet there are Templars just itching to do that, especially if the mages do something provocative, like vote for independence."
In the end, Anora made him promise to send Anders to her, if another month passed without Wynne. Morrigan was displeased, and came to the study to express her views to Loghain and Maude.
"That tiresome old woman is endlessly eager to instruct others in their duty, but always somehow rationalizes doing exactly what she herself wants to do. The Circle is nearly destroyed, and needs rebuilding? Wynne must travel hither and yon, exhorting the Grey Wardens to virtue instead. The Queen appoints her her personal Healer? Wynne must go traipsing off to a pointless, ridiculous confabulation with her fellow tame mages in a distant land."
"You're right," Maude agreed, thinking it over. "I remember the First Enchanter saying that Wynne never liked to stay in one place for long. Maybe she's just not a good choice for Court Healer. Anora trusts Anders, so we'll have to play nice, but I really think she needs to tell the Circle to send her someone else to take over from Wynne. Who knows when she'll come back? In a month? In a year? In the next Age?
"And when she does," Morrigan said acidly, "whatever has befallen, she will not hesitate to tell you that she did nothing other what her duty imperiously called on her to do!"
"I'll talk to Alistair," Maude promised. "There was a young woman in the Circle who studied with Wynne—Petra, I think her name was. She seemed nice. Maybe they could send her. I think Wynne is pretty far over the horizon by now." She got up, and smirked at Morrigan. "Let's go make Anders do the blue-flashy-glowy thing again!"
Three days before they were to leave for Soldier's Peak, they received something more than a letter from Weisshaupt. A middle-aged woman came to the Compound, and after giving her name and her business, was brought to the study and Loghain's attention.
The new arrival's name was Mistress Woolsey—Mistress Diaphanta Woolsey. She was a stern-faced, no-nonsense woman from Tantervale. She had a letter of introduction bearing the Grey Warden seal, assuring Loghain that this individual was to be trusted with Grey Warden secrets. With her came with a band of six Grey Wardens hailing variously from the Free Marches, from Nevarra, and from Weisshaupt itself.
Ranger and Topaz stood up to sniff at the strangers, massive heads down, eyes narrowed in doggy suspicion, stumpy tails at the ready to smite the enemy. Mistress Woolsey and the Wardens had clearly never seen mabari before. There was a pause for mutual eyeballing.
"Those are the dogs!" one young Warden whispered eagerly to his friend. "They must be. Those Ferelden dogs…you know…Marvellis, Myfairies…"
"Mabaris!" Loghain barked. The dogs barked, too, in noisy, joyous accord. The visitors eyes widened, just a bit.
"—Mabaris," the young Warden hissed. "That's right. I heard that the Fereldans have trained them to fight darkspawn!"
Maude strolled in, leaning against the door frame. The Wardens' eyes instantly fixed on her. She was certainly worth looking at. "You're absolutely right," she agreed. "Ranger over there is a Grey Warden himself."
One of the visitors laughed nervously. Maude glared at him.
"Did you ever bite an Archdemon? No? Well, Ranger did, so he outranks you!"
More laughter, some very amused and friendly. The dogs continued to sniff at the newcomers. The men smelled right, and might be pack, given time. The woman was different: not angry or fearful or bad, but different...
And she asked to speak privately to the Warden-Commander, while the visiting Wardens were shown to the Hall and given a hearty "snack."
Mistress Woolsey had not arrived empty-handed. In addition to the six Wardens, she had brought a heavy iron-bound chest containing five thousand gold sovereigns. In the letter from the First Warden, it was made clear that Mistress Woolsey was henceforth their official Treasurer, and that only she was to dispense funds from the formidable chest. Maude was livid.
"You're our new Treasurer? The First Warden sent us a Treasurer? We've only killed the bloody Archdemon, the Architect and the Mother! Now he thinks we need someone to do our counting for us?"
Mistress Woolsey frowned. Loghain wondered what she made of the tall, beautiful, turbulent young girl pacing the floor. The Marcher woman sat very straight in her chair, like a soldier at attention, and her shrewd eyes flicked between Loghain and Maude. She said, "The First Warden has every confidence in the Fereldan Wardens' loyalty in matter of arms. But gold corrupts even the most resolute soul."
"The First Warden said that?" Maude hissed, her eyes black as her rage. "Would that be the same First Warden who couldn't be arsed to lift a finger to help me during the only Blight in four hundred years? The one who didn't send me so much as a Warden, a handful of silver, or even a word of advice? The First Warden can go fuck himself!" She turned her back on the woman. "Loghain! The First Warden thinks we're corrupt!"
Mistress Woolsey was offended. "Young woman, there is no need to use such language in my presence. Warden-Commander—"
"Maude," Loghain interposed, "while I agree with you completely about the First Warden, Mistress Woolsey here is not the First Warden, and she has just arrived after a long and arduous journey to bring us five thousand sovereigns." He paused. A weighty pause, worthy of five thousand pieces of gold. Maude calmed somewhat, thinking it over. Loghain gave her a look. "All right?"
"All right." She turned to the new arrival, her voice now redolent with suave conciliation. "I beg your pardon, madam. I should not have shouted at you. You are not at fault for the First Warden abandoning me during the Blight. It will be wonderful that the Wardens can at last be paid. Nobody's been paid since before Ostagar, I believe. I've never been paid a copper myself."
Mistress Woolsey was thunderstruck. "Not paid? How have you been surviving?"
Maude gazed at her, astonished in her turn. "The old-fashioned way. By looting the lifeless corpses of our defeated foes." She paused, and tried to make it clearer. "By killing people and taking their stuff."
"I am familiar with the concept of plunder," the older woman said dryly.
"Excellent!" Maude approved. "Then you'll fit right in!"
Fitting the stern treasurer in would, of course, take some effort. She was not a Warden, though she was employed by the Grey Wardens, and seemed absolutely dedicated to them. Maude, remembering her manners and her duties as Senior Warden, was civil enough to vacate her old room completely, moving her things into the room that she and Loghain used. It was a bit cluttered, but much of it was being carted away to Soldier's Peak in a few days.
Mistress Woolsey believed in living simply, and settled in with quick efficiency, setting up her office, beginning a new account book, using Maude's enlistment rolls to calculate who was due what, and finding out from Maude who was still alive to collect it. Most of the large room was dedicated to establishing and maintaining the Grey Warden treasury in a sound and fiscally reliable fashion. A screen hid a plain bed, a washstand, a wardrobe, and a chest.
And there were the visiting Wardens to host. They were given rooms in the tower and time to make themselves presentable, and then summoned to a festive dinner than Maude had ordered from the kitchens. The visitors were astonished at the tiny number of Ferelden Wardens, but greeted them with great respect. Of course, the ones who did not stare at Maude were staring at Morrigan.
After even Wardens had eaten enough, they had Warden business to discuss. Keenan quietly whispered to a very put-out Nida that she must leave the room. She did, her retreating back radiating annoyance. Loghain sent out the servants, had the doors shut, and gave their visitors the story of the Architect in brief. Maude was working on the written report, which the Grey Wardens from Weisshaupt, Wolfram and Ragnar, would take back to the First Warden with them. It was hard not to be insufferably smug in light of the awful warnings they had received…after the fact. Their visitors were quite impressed. They were absolutely in awe when shown Loghain's Archdemon armor.
Of course they wanted to know the truth behind the rumors about the mysterious ancient Warden mage Avernus. They wanted the story of the battle with the Archdemon in Loghain's own words. Valentine, the younger of the two Marcher Wardens, hung on every single detail.
"It's such a privilege to meet you, Loghain!" he exclaimed, his handsome young face alight. "You're a legend among us! Everyone wanted the chance to come and see you, and I won the lottery!"
Oghren snorted, shaking his head.
The elder of the two Marchers, Godfrey, smiled indulgently. He and Valentine had introduced themselves as cousins, both originally from Starkhaven. "It's true," he agreed. "And now everyone deeply regrets not coming to join in during the Blight. Orders are orders, but some are harder to obey than others."
The men from Weisshaupt frowned and fidgeted, but did not attempt to disagree.
"Well, I wish you had disobeyed them," Maude retorted. "Alistair and I spent over a year collecting the allies with the help of non-Warden volunteers. We really could have used more Wardens, especially in the Deep Roads. It wasn't until Riordan came on his own from Jader that we even knew basic facts about killing the Archdemon."
"I regret that with all my heart," said Valentine, his huge blue eyes earnest. Loghain narrowed his own. The visiting Wardens, by and large, admired Maude very much, and grasped, better than the rest of the world did, what she had done. And some of them very obviously admired her looks.
Pyrrhus and Telamon, the Nevarran Wardens, whispered quietly in their native language, and asked endless questions about dragons. Pyrrhus turned a little green at Sigrun's cheerful descriptions of delicious dragonling feasts.
Telamon was an elf, the only elf in the party, and was something of a scholar. In addtion to his keen interest in dragons, he was full of the lore of previous Blights, and was eager to learn how the Fifth Blight had resembled and differed from the rest.
"Could the differences lie somewhat in the nature of this particular Archdemon itself?" he wondered.
"—which is to speculate," Maude put in, "on the possibility that Urthemiel was a particularly incompetent Old God to begin with. There's nothing in The Dragons of Tevinter to suggest that, but I will say that Urthemiel as Archdemon was something of an idiot."
"A dangerous idiot," Loghain growled.
"Idiots often are," Morrigan smirked. "'Tis sad but true."
The Ferelden Wardens also had their share of questions.
"I want to know about griffons," Maude declared. "What happened? Life as a Warden would be a lot easier with a griffon to ride, you know."
Ragnar rumbled an indulgent chuckle. Wolfram said, "All our lives would be easier with griffons. The creatures were stricken by a strange disease at the beginning of the Storm Age. As you know, at that time all of Thedas was involved in the Exalted March against the Qunari invasion. Some scholars among the Wardens believe that the disease might be linked in some way to the Qunari. When they arrived in their ships, they brought many new plants and even a kind of rat that had never before been seen in Thedas. Also, it was the griffons at the Grey Warden fortress at Ayesleigh—the one closest to the Qunari-that sickened first. At any rate, much to the Wardens' sorrow, the griffons wasted and died, and by the beginning of the Blessed Age, our paddocks were empty. Now and then we get a random report of someone sighting a griffon in the Hunterhorn Mountains, but all the sightings are unconfirmed."
"Too bad," Anders remarked, rather smugly. Flying was a lot of fun. Morrigan flicked him a secret smile.
"Such a shame," Valentine agreed, "They must have been magnificent."
Godfrey of Starkhaven said grimly, "Another reason to detest the Qunari. As if we needed it."
"That reminds me," Loghain said, "…are there any Qunari Wardens?"
"No," replied Wolfram. "They do not recognize the Right of Conscription. There have been…incidents."
"I see."
"And they are somewhat insulated from the darkspawn," Ragnar added. "They mostly live on Par Vollen and Seheron, which are islands, of course, and separated from the rest of Thedas by wide stretches of deep water. And the Qunari did not even make an appearance until a hundred years after the Fourth Blight. Darkspawn are something they know little about."
Oghren withdrew his attention from the bottom of his tankard to say, "That's right! The Deep Roads couldn't be built under deep ocean beds. Not even darkspawn can tunnel under them. Lucky Qunari!"
The mind's eye of Maude was still focused on griffons. "Hunterhorn Mountains, eh?"
Loghain groaned inwardly.
Mistress Woolsey did not believe in procrastination. She was up and at work early the next day, and her first order of business was to get the Wardens paid. Kristoff had left records of his own men, and Keenan appeared on them. The rest of the Fereldan Grey Warden records had largely been destroyed.
Maude was not pleased that there was no hiding the money they had received from other Grey Wardens, nor from the Teyrn of Ostwick. That chest was counted, and the fifty-sovereign bonuses to the surviving Wardens duly recorded. Mistress Woolsey saw nothing amiss in granting them. She was only puzzled that Loghain and Maude had not been paid them as well.
"And no one has been paying their tithes!" she tutted. "Not even the Crown! I realize that nobles and nations are often insolvent after a Blight, but surely the Wardens deserve better after such a swift and decisive victory!"
"They've given us land instead," Maude pointed out. "A sizable demesne. It's not very productive at the moment, but we believe there's a lot that can be done with it. And we'll have Soldier's Peak again, of course…"
"Yes, the old fortress. It must be very dilapidated after two hundred years, surely?"
Loghain smiled as Maude proudly showed her the detailed plans for the renovations. Mistress Woolsey, predictably, asked how all this was being paid for.
"Well, I've saved quite a bit of loot," Maude said, lying brilliantly by omission, as she neglected to disclose that a lot of the loot was from the looted treasury of Soldier's Peak itself. "And my brother the teyrn gave me some coin…"
Loghain smirked, but helped her out. "…As you know, I was formerly a nobleman, and was not exactly poor. We have sufficient funds for our plans."
"It is extremely generous of you," Mistress Woolsey said stiffly, "to fund improvements for the Grey Wardens out of your own pockets. Most generous indeed. However, you should not have to! The reason that the First Warden granted you such a large sum was for just such a purpose. Certainly, future expenditures should be paid out of the Grey Warden treasury."
Maude was very pleased with her for saying so: so pleased that she only laughed when she received her pitiful back pay for her time in the Wardens, a sum which Mistress Woolsey calculated from her recruitment at Highever. A recruit's pay was negligible. From the time of Ostagar to shortly after the Battle of Denerim, Maude was due a stipend as a junior Grey Warden, which was her official rank. That she had functioned as the Acting Warden-Commander was not, alas, something that could be reflected in the pay records, as the First Warden had never approved the promotion. As of the date of Loghain's appointment as Warden-Commander, Mistress Woolsey bent the rules enough to pay Maude as a Senior Warden, as that rank could be appointed by the post commander on the spot. Senior Warden pay was appreciably more than that of a junior Warden. The pay of a Warden-Commander was enough to raise Loghain's brows a bit. Sometimes he forgot that many other countries were far richer than Ferelden.
It was this difference in background and expectations, probably, in addition to Maude's sweet voice, that allowed Mistress Woolsey not to bat an eye at their plans: not even at the inlaid marble floor Maude wanted for the Great Hall. None of it looked absurd or extravagant to her, because she clearly had seen her share of great palaces and impressive fortresses and thought marble floors perfectly normal for such an important edifice. Loghain sensed that Maude was a bit annoyed by that. Perhaps he was, too.
Then there was the question of Alistair. It was decided that he was due junior Warden pay through the date of the fateful Landsmeet. He had publicly resigned from active Warden duty there, and Maude failed to see how the Wardens could possibly owe him a continuing stipend. Mistress Woolsey—and the visiting Wardens, for that matter—felt the entire issue of "resigning" from the Wardens was a problematic one; but since Warden Alistair had resigned to be King of Ferelden—and since the Wardens wished him to remain favorable to the order, it was not being challenged. Senior Warden Wolfram, however, made clear that it was not going to stand as a precedent.
Mistress Woolsey was helpful enough to hint that if Loghain wished someone to be paid as Senior Warden Mage, he should inform her of the appointment. Morrigan was highly gratified to be given her pay, back-dated to her Joining. With her loot, her bonus, and now her pay, she clearly felt quite rich. She and Anders spent hours in the Market, especially at the Wonders of Thedas, purchasing books, magical items, and custom-designed enchantments. Loghain suspected that the Mage's Tower at Soldier's Peak would be nearly as well-equipped as the Circle. To begin with. After Morrigan and Anders had a bit more time, it might even be better.
"I hope Leliana's been paid, too," Maude remarked, waving the bard's latest letter at the supper table. "Leliana was with us during the Blight and Joined the Wardens later," she told the visitors. "She's very nice."
Morrigan rolled her eyes.
"She is," Maude insisted. "She went back to Jader with Riordan," she went on, mostly to Valentine and Godfrey. "Please excuse me while I glance at this letter. Oh!" she laughed. "Just as we're off to Soldier's Peak, Leliana's is writing so I know where to direct my letters! She and Riordan are in Val Royeaux now. Don't be like that, Loghain... Anyway, she and Riordan were received by the Empress—this was months ago, of course—and were honored and given presents. Riordan's sort of Court Warden right now, which is very unusual since he's not nobly born. Apparently actually getting a lick in at the Archdemon can be substituted for blue blood. So they've gone to lots of masked balls and bacchanals and orgies. She says that Riordan is getting a bit restless, which probably means he's bored out of his skull by now."
"Orgies?" Oghren grunted. "Maybe I'm in the wrong outfit."
Six Wardens had not been an unreasonable force to guard the treasure the First Warden had sent, but now that the treasure would remain in Ferelden, it appeared that some of the Wardens might, too.
Wolfram and Ragnar would take the Fereldans' report back to the First Warden, after having a look at Soldier's Peak. Pyrrhus and Godfrey would travel with the Weisshaupt Wardens as far as the Minanter River. Loghain was interested, as an armchair traveler, in hearing their plans. They would take ship in Highever, and sail, not to Kirkwall as he might have imagined, but further west to Cumberland.
Godfrey explained. "We can take the Imperial Highway north from there to Carathel, at the Great Minanter Bridge. Wolfram and Ragner can head due north on the Highway; Pyrrhus can ride west along the River Road to Nevarra; and I will go downriver by barge to Tantervale. It is actually must faster that way than trying to cross the Vimmark Mountains that surround Kirkwall. The Planasene River is not navigable all the way between that city and Tantervale."
Valentine and Telamon approached Loghain separately, but each had the same request: to join the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Telamon wanted to know all about the nation and the Wardens that had defeated a Blight in record time. Valentine was clearly seeking adventure in a new and exotic land. Loghain was a bit baffled by an outsider's notion that Ferelden was exotic, but foreigners were a peculiar lot, and there seemed no harm in the fellow. He was big, healthy, and a decent swordsman, which was always useful. He looked at Maude a bit too much, but many men did. He seemed well-disposed toward the dogs, too.
Nor were Valentine and Telamon the only ones interested in the Grey Wardens. A pair of the guardsmen who had traveled with them on their Amaranthine adventure came to Loghain one afternoon, asking to be recruited. Loghain knew one of them quite well: Sergeant Darrow, who had been detailed from Maric's Shield. He was a bluff, big, ginger-bearded man from Gwaren, and a most reliable soldier. Had Loghain still commanded the army, he would have resented the loss of Darrow. Now he welcomed the gain to the Wardens, and hoped the man would survive. The other man, lean and dark-haired Sergeant Kain, he recalled from his brave service in the civil war. Neither man was married, neither owned land of his own, and both felt rather at loose ends in the new order.
"It's like this, my lord—er, Warden—er, Commander," said Darrow, red-faced and bashful. "Kain and I were always proud to serve under you. Real proud. Don't seem right not to anymore. Not natural. So Kain and I reckoned we'd just as soon join the Wardens, 'cos then we can serve under you again, see?"
"Begging your pardon, Commander," said Kain, "I hear the Wardens have a big fortress up in the Coast Mountains, and you'll be wanting a hand putting it in order. You'll be recruiting more Wardens, we reckon, and you'll want 'em trained. For that you'll want sergeants. Like us. Maybe." The fox-like, rugged face was touchingly hopeful.
"You'd be very welcome," Loghain said at once. "Both of you. But I have to warn you that it's a hard life. It's darkspawn most of the time, and the dark of the Deep Roads. Some recruits don't even survive joining up. There are a lot of things that I'm not even allowed to tell you, and they're not good."
"Well," shrugged Kain, "Darrow and me reckon that's all part of life's rich pageant, as it were."
Loghain smiled wryly, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Be ready to march in two days."
The visiting Wardens were presented to the King and Queen. Loghain watched the visitors with some concern, since he was keenly aware that none of them really approved of a Warden leaving the order, even to be a king. The younger ones seemed more sympathetic once they had seen Anora, and were no doubt creating romantic fantasies that they would pass on to their friends at home.
"Ragnar says that they'd like to see the 'real' Denerim," Keenan told Loghain afterward.
Loghain snorted. "They want to visit the brothels."
Oghren overheard. "'Course they do, and it's a fine idea! I'll take 'em with me. You'd better not go, sonny," he smirked at Keenan, "lest the little woman get her knickers in a twist." Then he had the unmitigated gall to smirk at Loghain. "And we all know what Maude would do if she heard about you visiting the Pearl..."
Loghain dismissed that with the contempt it deserved. "I'm not likely to see a woman at the Pearl who is one-tenth as attractive as Maude. Besides, if Maude heard I was going to Pearl, she'd insist on coming along so she could get in some sort of ridiculous brawl and pick the pockets of the clientele. We'll both take a pass. Have our guests get it all out their system. We are leaving for Soldier's Peak the day after tomorrow. If they're not in any shape to go, they can bloody well stay in Denerim and go live at the Pearl, for all I care."
He was glad enough to have the foreigners distracted so he and Maude could finish working on their expedition. All the Wardens but Oghren were tasked with making the rounds of the craftsmen who would be part of the wagon train to Soldier's Peak.
"And once construction is under way," said Maude," we might consider sending some of the Wardens out to do a bit of recruiting. Not a lot," she hastened to add, "since we won't have proper quarters for them for a few months, but some. Perhaps a dozen or so. Think of all the out-of-work mercenaries in this country. You'd think some of them would be happy to find permanent employment."
"You would probably be the best choice," Loghain said, rather sourly. "You'd persuade no end of poor bastards to follow wherever you led."
She kissed him on the nose. "That is such a sweet thing to say! You and I should go to Gwaren at some point, so we can cut a recuiting swathe through the country, and combine the trips in one."
"We can't both go," he objected. "Not until we have a better succession plan in place. Who would we leave in command? Oghren? Anders? Morrigan? No. I'll write a letter to Allonby, and you'll go to Gwaren." He got up and rummaged through his maps, and then spread one of them out on the table, tracing a route with his fingertip. "West Hill. We might have luck there. Then the Circle. See if you can pry a young mage out of them for Morrigan and Anders to torture. Through the Bannorn, then to South Reach. Then through the Brecilian Passage to Gwaren."
Maude nodded. "And then I might come back by ship so none of the recruits can think again and run away!"
"Don't travel by ship," he growled. "It's a ridiculously dangerous."
Her mischievous smile did not reassure him.
Keenan returned late that afternoon to make his report, and then asked Maude, "Have you seen Nida? She must be doing some last-minute shopping, but I don't like her to go out all alone. You're here, and so are Morrigan and Sigrun. It worries me."
"Haven't seen her," Maude said. "Loghain and I have been closeted here most of the day."
Keenan worried more, as dinner was served in the Wardens' Hall, and no Nida appeared.
"I'll help you look for her," kind-hearted Sigrun promised. "Let's get a bite to eat and we'll go out. She's probably still at the Market and lost track of the time."
"I'll come along," Anders said, and shot a look back at Morrigan who was openly disdainful. "Yes, we will. It's not safe after dark for a woman alone."
Maude blew out a breath and made a face at Loghain. This was ridiculously inconvenient. They had no business running after that silly woman. Obviously, they would have to.
"I would be happy to come along," Valentine assured Maude earnestly. "But I must search with a partner, as I do not know the city well. Perhaps I could be with you?"
Just as the search was actually being arranged, a messenger arrived, making it all unnecessary.
He was a pert little boy with a folded piece of parchment. The seneschal took the parchment from him, saw that it was addressed to a Warden, and brought it to the Hall at once. Keenan snatched at it, read it, and sat unmoving, as if turned to stone.
Morrigan raised her brows at Maude, who blew out a breath. Anders slid down in his seat. There was a general air of apprehension, as Keenan tried to pull himself together and speak. After trying and failing, he choked out, "Excuse me," and hurried from the hall.
"I'll go talk to him, " Maude said instantly, and dashed after him.
"If she got her throat slit, he'd be yelling and waving a blade, so it's not that. Dumped him, hasn't she?" Oghren speculated. "Women."
Sigrun elbowed him, with mild indignation. "I'm a woman, and I haven't dumped anybody. Don't generalize. Besides, I seem to recall that you've done your share of dumping yourself!"
Some of the visitors found it all very awkward and uncomfortable. Wolfram was more blasé .
"Ja, some women cannot accustom themselves to life among the Wardens. It is not for the faint of heart."
"Possibly she was apprehensive about living in an isolated fortress," said Telamon, more gently. He was trying to make friends with the dogs, and Ranger and Topaz were shamelessly exploiting him for tidbits.
"She would find fewer shops there, certainly," Morrigan sneered. "She has been spending a great deal of Keenan's coin."
"Maybe she's just too normal," Anders speculated.
Loghain put a stop to the gossip—at least at the table. "He won't thank us for talking about him. We'll hear the story when we hear it. Godfrey, you mentioned something about Deep Roads discoveries near Kirkwall..."
Maude came back after a little while. She paused, and then as everyone fell silent, took her place.
"Yes, Nida's gone. Keenan needs a bit of time to himself, but he told me to give you the story, and then never to ask him about it or even mention it. I didn't read Nida's letter, but he told me what was in it. Mostly."
She took a sip of wine, and said, "I might as well put it plainly since Keenan isn't here to be hurt by the words. Nida's going home to Orlais. She's been planning her getaway for the past several days. She sneaked out of the Compound early this morning and took ship. She had to tell him that her heart was broken about the death of her lover who died saving her in Amaranthine! What a way for Keenan to learn about that! And that's not all: she gave an entire list of why we drove back to Orlais. She never liked Ferelden anyway. She doesn't like any of us. She can't stand having dogs in a room where she eats. She thinks Wardens are creepy. Which we are, rather, but she needn't have pointed that out, if she is really as well-bred and refined as she considers herself. Except for Keenan, who in her opinion is boringly nice. She thinks he's too soft, which only shows that she's never seen him fight. Apparently she went into detail about each of us, but Keenan didn't want to share those bits. Anyway, she doesn't want to go to Soldier's Peak, which would be even more horrible than horrible Denerim. Oh, and she took all of Keenan's money, because he doesn't really need it as much as she does, since the Wardens will take care of him. In fact, it was the fifty-sovereign bonus that convinced her she could manage it, so she took it. And the expensive clothes that were given her in gratitude for Keenan's brave deeds...as a Warden. And all the jewels Keenan bought or found for her. I'd like to kill that bitch, and I will, if I see her again. It's one thing if she wants to go her own way, but she didn't have to be cruel about it."
"He is well rid of her," Morrigan said, her voice hard. "She was weak and useless. We are all well rid of her."
Not a voice was raised in opposition. Wolfram nodded. "It is as I said. This life is not for the faint of heart."
"For anyone," Anders muttered.
"Shoulda taken him to the Pearl," Oghren muttered. "Wonder when it closes?"
They rode out on the sixteenth day of Cloudreach under a benevolent sun. Anders and Oghren were clad in their new Archdemon armor, Master Wade's latest creations. Oghren's was imposing, and Anders' rather more fanciful. It resembled Morrigan's in some ways, and sported raven feathers and fur that suspiciously resembled cat. Anders had mastered his avian form—unless distracted—but thought two forms would be all he could manage. Shape-shifting was not so natural to him as it was to Morrigan, who had learned the skill at a young age. Wade was still working on Sigrun and Keenan's armor, and those would be sent later.
Keenan brooded, and the look in his eye was such that everyone was too sensible—even Oghren—to attempt to talk to him about Nida. Morrigan wisely forbore to tell him he was better off without her. Sigrun rode beside him and talked industriously of pleasanter things.
Outside the ranks odors of the city, the air smelled of spring.
"Away from Denerim at last," Maude murmured, stretching luxuriously in the saddle. "Wait until you see our new tent!"
"Is it ridiculous?" Loghain grunted. "Tell me it's not ridiculous." A horrible thought occurred to him. "It doesn't have griffons on it, does it"
"It's not ridiculous," Maude answered instantly. "And no griffons at all."
"Thank the Maker!" he muttered.
"It's green, with a purple dragon," she continued, "but it's not the least bit gaudy. The dragon is very tastefully done, I think."
"A purple dragon!" Loghain could already picture it: light filtering from the outside casting an eternal silhouette of a bloody dragon. If he woke up and forgot where he was, he'd probably put his own sword through it. He hoped it wouldn't be raining at the time. "Did it absolutely have to be purple?"
"Dragons are purple," she pointed out. "We can't pretend they're not, just because that's an expensive dye. You're the Dragonslayer, so your tent has a dragon on it."
"Is it a dead dragon, or a live dragon?" asked Anders. "It should be dead, you know. A dead purple dragon with a big sword through it and lots of embroidered scarlet blood in flourishes!"
"You have such wonderful ideas, Anders," Maude said, considering this seriously. "We could definitely have a tapestry done just like that. Thank you so much!"
"Thank you so much!" Loghain parroted, with a bitter sneer at Anders.
Both the mages chuckled, their day thoroughly made. Sigrun, a little behind them on a shaggy pony, said, "What? I think it sounds pretty!"
Aside from the grandiose tent and the occasional wagon breaking an axle, it was a very pleasant journey. They camped north of the Wending Wood among flowering trees; they camped west of Vigil's Keep under a starlit sky; they camped in the Knotwood Hills, sheltered by rocky slopes.
"You know what's really nice?" Maude said, settling back into their comfortably big camp bed. The shadow of the dragon loomed and flickered over their heads, backlit by the light of a score of campfires. "I haven't had to kill anybody during this entire journey! No bandits…no darkspawn… nobody. It's very…refreshing." Loghain could hear the smile in her voice. She added, "...and with the dawn, I shall seize the treasure of Kal'Hirol. That's going to be such fun! Tell Mistress Woolsey that I'm scouting, and have someone distract her when we come back with the wagon. I don't want it added to that infernal tally of hers! Maybe I should put the loot in ale kegs…"
She rolled over and reached out to him, clever hands busy. Thinking of treasure had an interesting effect on Maude...
The treasury was duly plundered. Loghain sent Darrow and Kain to help Maude, as part of their training in Warden stealth, and to accustom them to the sights and smells of the Deep Roads. Sigrun and Oghren accompanied them. Everyone agreed that it was a great success, but very odd.
"I didn't see any darkspawn!" Maude said, astonished. " I know that Kal'Hirol is really close to the surface, but I sensed almost nothing! Maybe the darkspawn have gone much further down. I felt them a little more in the direction of the…well, you know...the old breeding grounds…but we weren't there to fight today. At least Darrow and Kain should be able to find their darkspawn blood when the time comes. They liked finding the loot, anyway. And we got that big tub of lyrium. It went to Kain's head a bit! And now we have enough gold to absolutely bathe in, which would be a remarkable sensation."
Loghain snorted, "Particularly if you mean molten gold. You're welcome to it."
"Very funny."
So they moved up the Coast Road and rode through tiny Knotwood, which found them even more alarming than before. Nonetheless, the village was part of the Warden's demesne, and Loghain and Maude dismounted and introduced themselves to a few of the cowering locals. Loghain knew he would have to make an effort here. These people were unused to strangers of any kind.
They camped next near the opening of tunnels to Soldier's Peak. Much as they would like to press on, it was just too late in the day to get the wagons up the slopes. Maude had an alternative idea.
"You and I should ride north to Breaker's Cove," Maude suggested. "It's not far. I want to see what kind of harbor they have."
It was not a bad idea. Loghain and Maude chose fresher horses, and Morrigan and Anders flew alongside. Within an hour, the Waking Sea was before them, dark blue and glittering. A fresh salt-breeze blew off the water. Maude spurred forward eagerly. From the bluffs, they could look down, and there below them was a little fishing village. Loghain studied the cove with interest. An arc of sandy beach gave way to the harbor proper: a confusion of boat houses and little piers, docks, and jetties. The only sailing crafts there were small: very likely the harbor was not deep enough for the kind of ship that Maude would want to take her to Kirkwall. She would have to embark either from Highever or Amaranthine. Knowing her, it was not hard to guess which city she would choose. Still, an established fishing village in their territory meant a reliable food source. That could only be good.
"I love boats!" Maude enthused as they took the winding trail down to the village. "Look at that one with the red sails! It's so pretty. I think I'd like a boat of my own, Loghain..."
Breaker's Cove was nowhere near as isolated as Knotwood, but visitors were uncommon. They rode up to the tavern, and Maude leaned out of her saddle to make out its dim and faded sign, and then began laughing.
"'The War Dog Inn?'" Ranger and Topaz made puzzled, interested noises. Loghain felt his own smile burst forth, irresistible.
Morrigan fluttered down and perched on the sign. Anders resumed human form.
"Well...this must be the mabari tavern," he remarked to Ranger and Topaz. "Do you suppose they'll serve humans, too?" The dogs cocked their heads, thinking it over.
"Oh come on," Loghain growled.
It was not a bad tavern, and the ale smelled all right. The locals stared at them, wide-eyed, but did not seem inclined to flee to the hills. Loghain briefly introduced himself, and after the initial shocked incredulity, drinks were on the house. And stew. And dried-apple dumplings. They were very good.
Maude smiled very attractively at the innkeeper."The War Dog?' What an interesting name. So…Ferelden…" she cooed.
"Well," the innkeeper confided. "It's said that the old name was the 'Wardens' Inn.' It was changed though, after that lot came to a bad end." He reddened. "I mean...er..."
"Quite all right," Maude soothed him. "We're not that lot, after all. Might I have another dumpling?"
The camp fairly crackled with excitement the next morning. Now accustomed to the routine, the caravan was quickly put in order and in motion, headed for the last push to Soldier's Peak.
Loghain studied the tunnel entrance with some interest. As the encroaching trees and bushes were not yet fully leafed out, it was easier to make out details he had missed before. There had once been some sort of signage here, but the carved stone was defaced and crumbling. Probably a griffon at the top, he supposed, shrugging. It also appeared that there had been a guard post by the entrance, long ago. It had been of wood, of course, and was so decayed that only the brick foundations were in evidence. Another structure would be built here, he decided: a full-sized stone guardhouse to control traffic in and out of the Peak. It was simply too good an idea not to make use of it.
"Dark, innit?" Kain remarked to Darrow, during the long, long walk through the underground maze.
"Reckon the Wardens got some Deep Roads of their own," Darrow said.
Maude laughed. "That's one way of putting it!" She was absolutely elated to be going to Soldier's Peak at last: all but lighting up the tunnel without the aid of a torch. She gave her little map a glance, and motioned everyone to follow her.
Their ascent to Soldier's Peak was fairly strenuous. It was the heavily-laden wagons, of course, that made the difference. Everyone in the wagons got out of them. Everyone on horseback dismounted, and some helped push the wagons along.
"You're going to love it!" Maude assured the Wardens. "We're going to have such fun here!"
They rounded the corner from the upper mouth of the tunnels into the welcome light of day. Gradually the fortress revealed itself. There was some little confusion and delay as everyone had to stop and stare. "It's…big," Anders agreed. "Really big."
Morrigan touched Anders' arm and pointed discreetly. "That tower," she murmured, "is ours."
"A tower? Again?" He frowned briefly, and then grinned. "Just ours?"
She smirked, very pleased with herself. "Ours alone. No Templars, no priests: no one to shake a finger at us. Come."
A hawk and a raven rose up, wings beating, and disappeared through the broken windows of the Mage's Tower. Keenan clicked his tongue in annoyance, and gathered up the reins of their horses with his own.
Voices echoed off the stones behind them, a rising tide of wonder.
"It's as big as the King's Palace in Denerim!"
"Bigger, I reckon. A man can breathe up here."
"I don't know," quavered Sigrun. "We're getting really close to the sky, aren't we?"
Oghren grunted. "I'd say that we're in the sky, girlie!"
Even the Wardens from Weisshaupt nodded in measured approval.
"Wardens build for the ages," Wolfram declared. "Whether in civilized nations or in this distant southern land."
"A very fine fortress," Telamon remarked to Valentine. "It has certainly withstood the test of time."
"On the outside," Valentine agreed. "Maude says there's a lot of work to be done on the interior. I can help her there. My uncle, Lord Oxbridge, has been involved in a lot of building projects in the Marches."
Mistress Woolsey looked about her, shrewd eyes noting every missing shingle and broken window. She took out some parchment, and began making notes and calculations.
Darrow and Kain raced just ahead, shouldering the massive doors open, letting Loghain and Maude pass into the lofty stillness of the entry hall. The dogs trotted beside their friends, sniffing the air judiciously.
Dust motes glittered in the slanting light. The rush of fresh air stirred them into a sparkling storm. Threadbare banners fluttered uncertainly, as if astonished at the disturbance.
"That's right!" Maude shouted at the listening shadows. "The Wardens are back!" She nudged Loghain, and whispered. "I hope the ghosts are gone for good. because once we get to work, they'll never recognize the place!"
Thanks to my reviewers: sizuka2, JackOfBladesX, mutive, cloud1004, Josie Lange, Granoc, Zute, Dante Alighieri1308, Sarah1281, Anime-StarWars-fan-zach, Shakespira, Juliafied, Judy, Aoi24, Phygmalion, Lehni, Kira Kyuu, guantanamobayxx, Anguvddel, Enaid Aderyn, mille libri, Jyggilag, Jenna53, MsBarrows, Tyanilth, Eva Galan, and Herbedragons66.