The Keening Blade

Chapter 38: Highever After

Preparations were afoot for a splendid feast that evening. The following day would witness little Caradoc's presentation in the Chantry. Loghain, as godfather, would have his part to play there. No great challenge of course: as long as he remembered the infant's name and did not drop him into the holy fire, he would acquit himself with honor. After the first rejoicings over the birth, Loghain, like many others, went back to bed to make up the lost hours of sleep.

Maude stayed to dote on the baby, but in the end returned to their room and crawled in next to him. When he awoke, she was gone, presumably to dote yet more. The servants brought him a midday meal, and he found he was ravenous.

Once he was washed and shaved, Loghain found himself prowling the halls of the castle, trying to fix the place in his mind. One never knew when one would be called upon to attack or defend a fortress, and a thorough knowledge of the fighting ground could mean life or death.

On his rambles, he came across Morrigan, who seemed to be doing much the same thing. The witch, dressed in a handsome gown as green as deathroot extract, was peering into rooms, frowning; then moving on. She looked his way, and gave him a nod of greeting.

"Satisfying your curiosity about Maude's origins?" he asked.

"There is that," she agreed, as they unconsciously fell into step with one another. "But Castle Highever looms large in my imagination for another reason. 'Tis here that the legend of Flemeth originated—at least the earliest, most colorful chapters. She was the lady of the castle, as the wife of Bann Conobar Elstan. This is where she avenged the death of the bard Osen. Perhaps she plotted her vengeance in the very room where the Teyrna had her lying-in last night. I daresay it was. Flemeth never waxed nostalgic about the place in my hearing, of course."

Loghain paused, thinking. "Is it possible that she found Maude interesting because she came from here?"

"No..." Morrigan bit her lip. "No. I do not think so. I think she found Maude interesting because she is Maude. Courtesy pleases her. And a quick wit—like that brother of Bethany's in Kirkwall. Flemeth is unimpressed by mere courage, and 'tis unwise to defy her unless your sword is very sharp indeed."

"She was certainly unimpressed with me," Loghain grunted.

"True, alas," Morrigan smirked. "You met, some years ago, she told me. She thought King Maric very pretty, and you very rude."

"That was, of course," Loghain remarked loftily, "before I became an accomplished courtier. Do you think she would like me better now?"

She laughed, delighted: a rich, musical laugh. "Perhaps it would be best not test it!"

The next stairs led up to the battlements.

"Ah!" said Morrigan with ironic satisfaction. "By all means, let us take in the view."

But once they were there, Morrigan's sarcasm was silenced, for the 'view' was very fine indeed, and in all directions. Loghain did not think of himself as a sentimentalist, but he loved his country and thought it beautiful. The town of Highever lay spread out below them, quaint and colorful. Beyond it, the silver of the Waking Sea reflected the clear sunshine of autumn. Seabirds cried shrilly overhead, soaring in a cool, salty breeze. To the west were the city walls, nestled against green hills. It was a fair sight.

There were technical issues too, to absorb and consider. Highever was a good deep water port, and there was plenty of shipping in the harbor. Loghain noted the twin forts, one on each of the headlands sheltering the harbor. They most certainly needed improvements to their defenses.

A low wall along the docks protected the city from invasion by sea. Three gates pierced it, all wide open at the moment. The wall itself was much too low, and the gates looked flimsy. Still, the defenses had caused the Orlesians to invade further east at Amaranthine, which had not had such barriers in the Blessed Age. And the treachery of Tarleton Howe had helped, of course.

"Maude is...fond...of the water," Morrigan remarked. "I have only traveled upon it the one time, on Lake Calenhad. I was too distracted by other matters to enjoy it properly. Perhaps it would be diverting, after all."

"You could," Loghain said, "trying shape-shifting into a fish."

"How droll. I believe I shall next examine the library."

"A sea dragon?" Loghain suggested, carefully not smiling, as they walked downstairs together. "A kraken?"

"Flemeth, it seems, was not altogether wrong about you..."

More and more guests were filtering in for tonight's feast. It would be held in the Great Hall, not in the usual dining hall. There were simply too many guests, and trestle tables were being set up to accommodate the well-wishers.

The library was not a bad place to seek refuge. Morrigan quickly found a large tome, and was soon seated and reading with intense concentration.

Loghain walked up and down the shelves, tracing the titles as he went. There were quite a few books here he had never seen before: quite a bit of northern myth and history. The name "Aldous Quincarl" caught his eye. Aldous had been Maude's tutor, and apparently she had been fond of him.

The tutor's book was entitled Clans of the Coastlands, and appeared to be full of historical and genealogical lore. Since the Howes figured largely in it, it had been spared the fire. Loghain pulled it from the shelf, and began paging through it.

"My lord! Er—Warden-Commander!"

Loghain found himself addressed by Bann Loren, and his hopes of a quiet hour with a book were temporarily overthrown.

It was the usual thing. Groveling flattery, expressions of delight that Loghain would be the godfather of the future Teyrn of Highever. Following these were slavish promise of future service, relief that Loghain was still a power in the land, and the not-very-veiled sentiment that Loren had always backed Loghain, really.

What did the man want? His lands did not march with the Wardens. Of course, they did march with Highever, and Loren was sworn to the Couslands. As the brother-in-law of Loren's liege lord, Loghain could be presumed to have influence. Loren did not express any requests to exert said influence, so Loghain decided it was all tiresome sycophancy, and escaped as quickly as possible.

Where could he take his book? The chapel was never a good idea. He had discovered years before that if one read in an empty chapel—even in one's own empty chapel, hoping for a bit of peace— the priest would understand your presence as a desperate cry for spiritual comfort, and move in for the kill.

Reluctantly, he headed up to his assigned bedchamber, hoping the servants would not plague him.

On his way, he had another idea. The little alcove in the upper corridors was really quite a nice place to sit and read. Other guests were not being permitted into the family quarters since the birth. Loghain found a bench, opened Clans of the Coastlands, and looked for the name Cousland. Yes, quite a bit about the Howes and the Elstans, of course. The Couslands featured prominently starting with the Towers Age. Amusingly, the rebellion against King Arland that had cost the then-Teyrn of Highever his life was glossed over. The genealogical charts in the back of the book did give the date of the man's death, but there was nothing in the text to suggest he had sympathized with rebels. There was not even the discreet crossed swords icon that indicated death in battle.

A servant was bowing to him, full of solicitous questions. "Would the Warden-Commander care for a cup of wine? Would he care for a cushion? A plate of refreshments?"

"No, he would not," Loghain replied gruffly. "He would like to read without conversation."

Interesting conclusions could be drawn from the book. The Couslands were remarkably careful to avoid bloody family disputes. Once the heir to the teyrnir was declared, the rest of the family tended to fall into line and not attempt to challenge the decision.

Also, their relationship with the Howes was a curious study in love and hate. And rivalry. Certainly a great deal of rivalry. The families had intermarried quite frequently. Of course, all the great noble families did that. It seemed that the Howes had been notified of the impending birth, but it was doubtful that they would arrive in time for the ceremony in the Chantry. More likely they would come with their gifts in a few days. They were not invited to stay in the Castle, of course. It might be generations before a Howe could expect that.

The next chapter was all about the Couslands and their politics. Loghain smirked the title. It was a famous old saying.

"In the North, there is no King but a Cousland."

So one of their ancestors, Teyrn Coran, had declared, when refusing to pay ship-tax to Calenhad's grandson. He had got away with it, too.

The book was vague about the Orlesian invasion and occupation as well. Yes, Bryce had fought at White River, but the Orlesians had never dispossessed the Couslands. Loghain, from what he already knew, and from reading between the lines, deduced that the Couslands had played both sides fairly successfully. The head of the family had paid homage to the Orlesian pretenders, while the heirs had carried on a flirtation with the rebels. For the most part, they had carefully maintained their power within their own teyrnir, while letting the rest of Ferelden go to the Void.

He turned the page, glad that Maude had not seen things in the same way as her grandfather. She could well have refused to travel with Duncan, and might have led Highever against Howe. Perhaps it was the shock of her family's death that had made her uncommonly docile. If she had raised her banner in the North, what would Loghain have done? Begun another, nastier phase of the civil war? Or would he have thrown Howe to the wolves? Or a bit of both?

She might well have claimed the loyalty of Alfstanna. Of Bann Frandarel, too, in his draughty, half-empty fortress. A lot of Highever nobles would have preferred her to Howe, had she made herself their leader. Loghain might well have been forced to come to terms with her.

But then who would have led them against the Blight? Loghain refused to believe that Alistair could have done it alone. Or if he had, and Maude was on Loghain's side, things could have turned out very badly.

Or at the least, very strangely.

The subject of his thoughts made her appearance, stalking up to the family apartments. She was dressed in plain black leathers, a nondescript helmet under her arm. Ranger came over to have his ears scratched, and was disappointed that Loghain had no treats for him.

"I thought you were still with Cauthrien."

"She's having a nap. I tried juggling to entertain the baby, but he's too little to appreciate it yet. Nursey said I wasn't to plague him, so I went for a walk through the town. Wanted to see the old place without everyone seeing me."

"And your curiosity is satisfied?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes."

She kept on walking. Ranger paused, gave Loghain a hangdog look of apology, and slunk after her. Something was troubling Maude, and she did not want to talk about it. Loghain decided he did not want to talk about it either. Howe had made changes to Highever during his tenure, and Maude could hardly be expected to like them.

Over time, the light dimmed. Fergus passed by and stopped to speak. "Time to change for dinner, I'm afraid. Interesting book?"

Loghain showed him the cover. Fergus laughed. "Full of shameless flattery. Aldous was anxious not to bite the hand that fed him. Some of the good bits are true, though."

"I couldn't quite understand how the title changed hands at the end of the Exalted Age..."

"Oh—old Jodoc Cousland. The three concurrent wives do make it confusing." Fergus laughed. "Aldous discreetly left that bit unclear. Jodoc was exercising his old tribal perquisites. Polygamy wasn't explicitly made illegal in Ferelden until the beginning of the Steel Age. By that time, the Chantry had a lot more influence in Ferelden."

"Perquisites indeed!" Loghain snorted. Multiple wives were a complication modern Ferelden certainly did not need. He shut the book and followed Fergus up to the family quarters. "Maude took a walk around Highever by herself, it seems. She was put out by something, but wouldn't stop to talk about it."

Fergus shook his head. "There have been a lot of changes, especially in the lower town. It's hard for her, I know, but there's no erasing the past."

"A lot of damage?"

"No. Not really. Here in the castle, yes. Howe men did a lot of damage when they sacked it, and it was repaired rather shoddily. However, he had the town so well invested by then that it surrendered, and there was hardly any propertly damage there at all. He changed things to suit himself, though—he'd probably been making plans for Maker knows how many years—and he didn't hesitate to do as he pleased. Here now. We'll talk later. I've got to see if Cauthrien's going to be up to attending the feast tonight."

"Cauthrien's wearing blue, of course," Maude remarked, "So I'm not."

She looked very pretty in the rose velvet gown she had worn at their wedding. Loghain had thought she disliked the gown. Perhaps, however, the fact that it had been her mother's made it appropriate in this place and at this time.

They went down with Cauthrien and Fergus. Cauthrien's arm was in her husband's, but her walk was steady and her head high. The nursemaid followed behind with tiny Caradoc in her arms. Not a wetnurse: Cauthrien had decided to nurse the child herself. Trust her to do anything very, very thoroughly.

Not that he meant to criticize Anora, even in his thoughts, but still…

Cauthrien insisted on taking the baby as they entered the Great Hall. A roar answered the sight: of approval, applause, and good wishes. Loghain glanced over at the infant, who was scowling comically, irritated at the noise. An elaborate cradle, complete with blue and white velvet pillows and coverlet, was waiting by the head table.

It went off quite well, all things considered. Cauthrien was just the least bit paler than usual, but her reserved, quiet demeanor was very much like her normal self. If anything, she smiled more than Loghain could think quite normal for her. She seemed pleased—really, deeply, profoundly pleased—to be a mother. Perhaps she had never hoped for such a thing. She was clearly pleased to be with Fergus, too.

Endless toasts were offered. Earnest, mildly drunken speeches of support were made. A truly silly song was warbled at insupportable length about little Caradoc's noble lineage and shining future.

Then Fergus stood once more, with a tipsy gleam in his eye. It was time to announce the news that would set the Crown on its ear.

"My friends! We have yet more good news to share with you! My sister and her husband, the Warden-Commander of the Grey and the Dragonslayer of Ferelden, are expecting a child themselves—the new Teyrn of Gwaren!"

There was applause of course, but also a storm of gossip and eager, speculative looks. For the Teyrn and Teyrna of Highever to produce a child was natural, expected, and perfectly proper. There was nothing unsettling in it. However, the future Teyrn of Gwaren was news. Perhaps not totally unexpected news, Loghain noted with a touch of surprise. Still, it meant a new piece on the Fereldan chessboard.

Of course, why would they be surprised? Loghain realized, thinking again. THey knew nothing of Grey Warden secrets. Loghain had fathered a child before, and now had done so again. The bride was young, healthy, and Cousland: presumably doing that infernal Cousland duty. But there would be surprise in Denerim: oh, yes, indeed. And as the news traveled, there would be surprise in Val Royeaux, and in Weisshaupt...

Their baser appetites sated, people got up from their benches to mingle. The musicians began tuning their instruments, adding to the din. Cauthrien and the baby took their leave, amidst more applause. Maude turned in her chair to talk to her brother.

"I was surprised," she remarked casually, "that when I turned west at Redfish Dock, I discovered the Alienage was gone. Completely gone."

Fergus glanced briefly at Loghain, and said quietly. "Howe sold all the elves, Maude. As far as I can ascertain, anyway. He sold every elf in Highever that he could lay his hands on. Made a fortune, too. I have to admit that he put quite a bit of the money back into Highever. The harbor was dredged pretty thoroughly and the Great Docks improved, if nothing else. Then he cleared the Alienage quarter right out, and started putting up those tall stone townhouses. Since the Alienage is all technically teyrnir property, they bring us in a lot of rent now. Well-to-do foreign merchants have moved in, and some shipowners, too. Banns Swyddog and Morcant bought lots from me, and then built mansions at the far end."

"Yes, I noticed," Maude said, in the same noncommittal tone. "All very handsome. Very posh. Mind you, it was so entirely posh that I thought I was in a foreign land, except for everybody calling the place 'Cousland Square.'" She told Loghain, "There's a little park in the very middle. The vhenadahl tree is still there, with fancy benches around it and a little fountain. A gaggle of merchants' wives gave my shabby leathers decidedly disapproving stares. There's quite a nice tavern in Cutthroat Alley nearby, too. Except they don't call it 'Cutthroat Alley' anymore, but 'The Strand.' The innkeeper almost didn't let me in, until I told him he really wanted to."

Fergus rolled his eyes. "I'd much rather you were patronizing an establishment in 'The Strand' than in 'Cutthroat Alley. ' It was an awful place and I can't say I'm sorry the neighborhood has changed." He told Loghain, "She talked me into taking her there, years ago, in disguise; and we were nearly robbed and murdered."

"We were not," Maude contradicted. "We could have taken those thugs. No problem. And by the way, where did the brothels go? You can't have a proper thriving seaport without brothels. It's not allowed."

"I am not," Fergus said wearily, "going to talk about brothels with my sister."

"Well, you should," Maude insisted. "Brothels are very important in the economic life of any bustling city. In fact—"

"I think I hear Cauthrien calling me," Fergus declared, fleeing the table.

The Chantry of Our Lady of the Flaming Sword was not as large or as beautiful as that of Our Lady Redeemer in Amaranthine. It was not surprising. Our Lady Redeemer was a site of pilgrimage second only to the Cathedral in Denerim, as it was the place from which Andraste, captured by Tevinter slavers, embarked on her first, dark journey. A great deal of coin had been donated over the ages. Highever Chantry had no such compelling history.

Besides. the rather silly name of the Highever chantry forced Loghain to keep his countenance very, very carefully. The locals really would not forgive a slight or slur on their place of worship, even if the benches were full of splinters and the ceilings were alarmingly low and the windows were the size of loaves. Nearly as thick, too: the wavy green glass sullenly determined that the flames in the holy brazier would provide the only light in the place, even at burning noonday. All in all, Highever Chantry reminded him of a very large dog-kennel.

Maude—and the dogs, naturally—seemed to enjoy being here, however.

"I like her," she said, pointing at the statue. "I always have. She looks like she doesn't take crap from anybody."

That was certainly true. The Prophet's statue wore an expression more suited to a dockside bruiser than to the Bride of the Maker.

"She's got a really big sword, too," Maude declared happily.

Dressed in a dark blue doublet (since black was considered unlucky on such an occasion), Loghain was resigned to the pomp and circumstance. Maude wore blue herself, the intense cerulean blue than was slightly darker than Cauthrien's gown. Loghain was at least permitted a sword, due to yet another ridiculous old wives' tale. In his growing annoyance, he realized that carrying a serious weapon like the Keening Blade was not the best idea today. It was practically begging to be drawn.

Young Caradoc was in a fairly pugnacious mood himself. Loghain settled the fussy baby in his arms, standing before the stuffy, crowded dog-kennel. The bloody Revered Mother droned on and on, while the small face turned ominously pink: the eyes screwed shut, the tiny mouth grimacing. Loghain hoped the swaddling was good and thick.

Inevitably, the wailing began. Enraged that Loghain seemed incapable of understanding simple commands, the baby's wails crescendoed into shrieks, nearly drowning out his godfather, as Loghain called out the child's name. Not wanting to look a complete fool, Loghain maintained his most impassive demeanor, wishing it were over.

What might have seemed ill-omened in a dainty little princess was evidently judged a sign of the lad's manly and assertive nature. As far as Loghain could determine, visibility limited by the general murk and a thick haze of reeking incense, everyone was smiling indulgently. Then there was the procession to hold up the child on the Chantry steps in front of the crowd gathered there. Teyrn Fergus was extremely popular, if the turnout was any criterion.

Then, it was over. Everyone shouted and cheered, rendering the the little monster even more furious. Loghain passed him to the grinning Fergus, and the infant was blessedly whisked away by his mother and the attendant nursemaids. Loghain's work here was done.

"Ready to go home yet?" Maude whispered, and then laughed at Loghain's expression. "Me, too. Let's leave first thing tomorrow."

There was certainly no way to leave today, when simply squeezing out of the Chantry courtyard was going to take the rest of the morning. Unless, of course, he drew his sword and mowed down the cheerful mob. Probably not the best plan, since these people were allies and vassals of allies. Too bad. Where were the guards? Bloody useless, the lot of them.

And word of last night's announcement had spread. Everyone was coming up to congratulate him, or congratulate Maude, or both of them. They were staring at Maude's belly, trying in vain to make out a bump behind the asymmetrical folds of bright blue velvet. Some ladies actually touched her there, causing Maude to step back, bemused. She laughed it off, but Loghain could tell that she disliked them taking the liberty.

Bann Alfstanna was right there beside him, her keen gaze knowing and significant.

"Do the King and Queen know that Gwaren has its lord?"

Loghain tried being politely evasive. "Gwaren will not have its lord until he is actually born. If all goes well, that will be some time in Drakonis."

"This birth is so important to the stability of Ferelden," Alfstanna remarked. "Her Grace the Regent has been so very busy—so energetic about traveling here and there. She seems as high-spirited as ever, but one hopes she will not exhaust herself. "

"Yes, one does," Loghain said flatly. "If we can ever get out of the courtyard, I plan to take her home and see that she gets some rest."

Another feast, more music, more infernal gossip, more meaningful glances and smirks and nods and winks until Loghain really did consider calling out the lot of them. Maude was dealing with it better than he, smiling and sunny, chatting about baby linen. She listened with perfect equanimity to the horror stories of death in childbirth, suffering in pregnancy, and children born without fingers or arms or legs or heads. Or with two heads. Loghain shook his own, wondering if this was some vicious rite of passage women inflicted on one another. How could it possibly help to be told these ghastly things?

The guests trickled out of Highever, but Maude and Loghain stayed long enough to give Fergus a complete, considered scheme for improving Highever's defenses, including those of the harbor. In addition to the gifts for the baby, they would leave a puppy behind. Ears had taken to Cauthrien, and seemed to want to spend all of her time crouched at the baby's cradle. Maude seemed pleased at the prospect of such another guardian at Highever, and the dogs themselves accepted it as the natural and proper order of things.

The arrangements for the loan was hammered out. Mistress Woolsey might raise her brows, but the Wardens would lend the money. Highever was a neighbor, and the Wardens needed it to be well-defended. That should be enough for the woman. If it was not—well, she would be sent home to Tantervale in short order.

Once Anders finished giving his final instructions for the health of mother and child—and after the requisite number of bows and embraces and promises to visit—they rode away from the castle and the town at a good pace. Maude paused only once, high on the bluffs overlooking the sea, and looked back over Highever behind them. Then she turned her horse's head and rode on.

"I can't wait to be home!" she declared.

However strange it might seem for an ancient Grey Warden fortress to be there home, so it was, indeed. And it was bloody impressive. Loghain felt the familiar thrill of possessive satisfaction when at last they emerged from the tunnels and saw the fortress piercing the sky above them.

Everyone was happy to see them. Some in fact, were fairly noisy about it.

"Boss!" Oghren rumbled, surging toward Maude like a drowning man at a raft. "You've got to help me! I can't take much more..."

"Neither can I!" shouted Felsi, storming up behind him. "His snoring keeps Maddie awake all night! Do something, or I swear I'll cut off his nose! At least!"

Loghain rolled his eyes and left Maude to mediate the dispute. He sought their treasurer and laid out his plan. To his relief, after a few searching questions, Mistress Woolsey acquiesced to their loan arrangements, accepting that the Teyrn of Highever was likely a very reliable debtor, and that Loghain's reasons were sufficient.

They settled into a pleasant routine at Soldier's Peak, planning their next order of business, which was a recruiting drive. Two days after their return from Highever, the Wardens gathered in the War Room to organize it.

"Keenan will lead the party," Loghain declared. "Partly because I trust him, and partly because the major thrust of the drive is to find a number of very talented archers. Keenan is best able to judge their quality."

Telamon nodded. "More archers would be good. The more darkspawn we can deal with at long range, the larger numbers as a whole we can destroy."

Keenan's eyes were alight with the possibility. "I could hold some archery contests," he suggested. "We could offer some prizes, maybe, to attract more attention, and I could say openly I'm looking for Wardens. A lot of common folk are poor and displaced. Being a Warden with a roof over your head and food to eat would be a prize in itself. And we'll continue to accept men—"

Maude and Sigrun cleared their throats very emphatically. Keenan glanced at them.

"—and women— with families, won't we?"

Loghain gave a grudging nod. "For now, yes. We'll see how it works out. Some families might be given homes in Breaker's Cove."

"I think contests and prizes are a very good idea," Maude said. "It's a way of making the Wardens look very prestigious. We have chests and chests of lovely loot, after all. Maybe silver cups or medallions would do. In fact, let's give more than one prize. First, second, and third. What fun! I'll work on that. Keenan, think about how many contests you'll hold and where."

"Anders," Loghain said grimly, "while I understand your reluctance, it's something that you can do best. The Circle owes us a recruit. Or two if you can manage it."

Maude squeezed her eyes shut, remembering. "Duncan told me that the Circle has a policy of only one Circle mage for the Grey Wardens at a time."

"I don't care about their bloody policy," Loghain snapped. "And we did not recruit Anders from the Circle. I want a mage from them. Find the best, most qualified mages you can and conscript them outright. Neither the Circle nor the Templars can contest that. It's best to do it now, while people still remember the Blight and we have a little residual good will. In a year or two, they'll be asking what the Wardens did for them lately!"

"You are so cynical, Loghain," Maude beamed. "I love that about you."

He snorted, and went on with the plan. "I don't want to send any of the rest of you mages, because I want the Circle to know as little as possible about you. While the recruiting party is gone, we will probe the Deep Roads closest to us and revise our maps as needed."

"So who's going with Anders and Keenan?" Valentine asked eagerly.

"Me," Oghren grunted. "Maybe I'll get some peace and quiet that way."

Maude clucked her tongue in disapproval. "I've assigned Felsi her own cottage, Oghren. We'll be moving her out in a day or two."

"That won't keep her from ragging on me," the dwarf grunted. "I need to get away."

Loghain took the offer seriously. "If you like, and if you think you can stay mostly sober, all right. I'd like the party to travel to Orzammar. King Bhelen does not seem eager to lose to the flower of the nobility to the Grey Wardens, so recruit in Dust Town instead. Sigrun, do you want to go?"

She thought a moment, and shook her head. "No. I've seen enough of the place. But I think that Fimo here should go. He's never seen Orzammar at all."

"Very well. And I want you, Telamon, to go. We need more elves. If you come across any Dalish on the journey, see what you can do. I'm not asking you to go south to the Dalish territory, mind you. Perhaps that's best kept for a separate visit. However, I'll leave it to your judgment. Now to our Deep Roads expedition..."

This was the tricky part. Maude was not pleased to discover that she would be left behind, in command of Soldier's Peak, while the balance of the Wardens explored the Roads beneath Amaranthine, and saw if the dwarves had made any progress with Kal Hirol.

"Bethany already has some experience with the Deep Roads. She will remain with Maude, along with Valentine. We cannot risk our entire force, and someone must continue to administer our desmesne. Morrigan will teach Sketch about using magic in the Deep Roads, as her knowledge is greater than anyone else's."

Morrigan scowled at him. "Do not think to flatter me, Loghain!"

"I do not," Loghain assured her coolly. "It is the truth."

"And when," Maude asked, narrowing her eyes, "do you intend to return?"

"I hope to spend no more than three weeks there, exploring and mapping. As to the recruiting party, I want you all back here by the end of Firstfall. Another reason not to go far south at this time of year. Do what you can, and bring us back mages and archers above all. Anyone else is useful, of course."

After the meeting, they were met by a servant, with news that letters had come for Her Grace and Warden Bethany.

"By ship...from the Free Marches!" the servant rattled on. "From all the way across the Waking Sea, they are..."

"What fun!" Maude said indulgently, already opening the sealed parchment. "Oh! From Varric! It's a splendid thing to correspond with the greatest gossip in all Kirkwall."

Bethany's letters were from her mother and brother—one much thicker than the other. She took them and disappeared into the Mage's Tower. Maude flung herself back into her chair in the War Room to read hers. She started to laugh almost as soon as she broke the seal.

So they had much to talk about over dinner. Loghain was discussing archery with Keenan, and caught Maude's Kirkwall gossip with half an ear.

"Varric told you about Aveline's marriage?" Bethany asked her eagerly. "Mother was there and described everything in detail, especially the clothes, of course. Aveline wore a gown!"

That made Maude burst out laughing again. "That just sounds wrong. Yes, Varric was at the wedding, but he didn't describe the clothing."

"A gown!" Bethany repeated. "A yellow gown. And a string of pearls in her hair. Mother says she looked quite lovely...and very dignified. And Donnic wore a dark brown doublet. Of course it was back to armor the next day, and now Mother is after Adam to marry suitably."

"What will Isabela say to that?" Maude wondered. "Oh, I know. She won't care a bit. Does your mother have any young ladies in mind?"

"She does! It's sort of peculiar really. The Comte de Launcet has two daughters..." She made a face, not quite laughing. "...Fifi and Babette. Yes. They're just that ridiculous! What makes it so peculiar is that the Comte de Lancet was once betrothed to Mother, before she ran off with Father. Adam doesn't say anything about the girls, so I'm sure he's just ignoring everything Mother says, which is the sort of thing he does. There was a son, but he's a mage, so Babette and Fifi will get everything. And the Comte is disgustingly rich."

"What hideous names!"

"Well, the Comtesse goes by the name 'Dulci,' so you know she has no taste. It's really Dulcinea. And the girls' names are really Barbarella and Sophinisba, which are no improvement. They're pretty enough. I've seen them, but they're really..."

Loghain had heard enough. "...Orlesian," he broke in. Keenan mirrored his look of disgust. The young archer had not recovered from his wife's betrayal.

Maude and Bethany laughed, and went back to their talk.

"Mother's so happy to be living in the family home, of course, and she told me to thank you again for that, Maude," Bethany said. "Adam likes it, too, though he doesn't describe everything the way mother does. It's just a relief not to feel they're intruders and a terrible burden. Mother asked Uncle Gamlen if he would like to move back to the estate with them, but he's so independent! He told her he always hated it there, and that's she welcome to it. She visits him once a week, though."

Maude said, "Varric doesn't give the impression that Adam has settled down to being a gentlemen of leisure. There was more trouble at the mine..."

Loghain had been hoping for more of substance. He interrupted. "And what does your correspondent say about the Qunari?"

"Ew!" Bethany exclaimed. "I can't stand them!"

Maude shrugged. "Varric says that things are still in the same impossible stalemate. There's talk that some elements in the Chantry are rousing public sentiment against them. Merrill told him that some elves have been talking about the Qun, thinking they'd be better off ruled by the Qunari than by humans. Unless the elf is a mage, of course."

Sketch made bold to ask, "And where do the Qunari stand on mages?"

"They put them on leashes and sew their mouths shut," Bethany shot back. " Maude knows it's true. She's seen it."

"I have not seen it," Morrigan spoke up, her voice hard, "but that Qunari who traveled with us during the Blight used to tell me of it. They think we are monsters and should be treated like cattle. No. No mage has anything to hope for amongst the Qunari."

"And that matters," Maude pointed out, "because no matter how bad the Circle is, the alternative of the Qunari is worse for Kirkwall's mages. If the Qunari tried to take the city, the mages would rise up against them."

Anders got up and paced restlessly. "Maybe they should rise up all the way! They should get rid of the Qunari and the Templars, too!"

Valentine was a little shocked. Darrow and Kain exchanged a look, expressive of their opinion of passionate and politically-minded young men.

Loghain dismissed the idea of the mages rising in such a way. "They could not possibly fight both at the same time. And if they tried to take control of Kirkwall themselves, they'd be facing an Exalted March in very short order. If the Knight-Commander is too hard on them, they should get rid of her and see if the problems straighten themselves out!"

More letters came before the departure for the Deep Roads. Indeed, Loghain had been expecting these particular letters, and had decided to wait for them.

A letter from Anora to himself, and a letter from Alistair to Maude. They went to the privacy of their bedchamber to read them.

Maude broke the seal and read Alistair's ramblings aloud.

"'Dear Maude,' he says. 'Blah-blah-blah weather. Blah-blah-blah baby talk." Her face darkened.

"'Heard about your exciting news. Who's the father? Just joking. Ha-ha-ha-ha. Really, just joking. I wasn't all that surprised, of course, because you always seem to know how to get what you want. Anora was a lot more surprised than I was, but she doesn't know you as well as I do.'"

Maude looked up from the letter, her face a study of incredulity. "I'm not sure I believe that Alistair, King of Ferelden, just wrote a paragraph this offensive to the woman who put his worthless arse on the throne."

"He did, actually," Loghain pointed out helpfully, not surprised at such foolishness. He rather liked the idea of a permanent wedge between Maude and that idiot. "But of course it's all in fun, so I suppose if you take offense, it would indicate a deficient sense of humor on your part."

She looked at him, black eyes burning, and then she snapped the letter up and began reading again.

"'Once I thought about it, I realized it was for the best. Now that she's done the whole having-a-baby thing, Anora isn't too excited about doing it again, though she's says we're going to. Before, she said she was going to have three children, but having Rhoswyn was really, really hard on her. So maybe just one more. Anyway, Rhoswyn will have another friend and playmate her own age, and Gwaren will have a ruler of good old Cousland lineage. I've heard what terrific work Fergus has been doing in Highever. He's a fine fellow.'"

"So he's still saying that my child is a bastard, but that's perfectly all right because any bastard of mine is still a Cousland."

"I daresay he prefers that to the child being mine," said Loghain.

Maude looked very much like she had eaten a keg of pickles, but she soldiered on through the letter.

"'I hope you're not feeling too sick. Anora got sick a lot. What are you going to name it? How about Duncan? I really like that name. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.

All the best-

Your king,

Alistair'"

Maude took a deep, deep breath. "Dear Alistair. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. From the woman is going to make you suffer in ways you will not believe, Maude."

"He's a fool," Loghain said, opening his own letter. He read it through quickly, not saying a word of it aloud. It was definitely the wise thing to do.

My dear Father-

Congratulations, of course, on your expected child. At your age it must be more daunting than pleasant, but of course you will do your duty. I daresay Maude will deal with it all, and leave you to your responsibilities as Warden-Commander.

I do not know if you are aware of this, but I think it my duty to tell you. One hears all sorts of things as Queen of Ferelden, and it is my understanding that Grey Wardens had great difficulty begetting or conceiving children, and that it is practically impossible for two Grey Wardens together to do so. I just thought you should be informed. Not that I am accusing Maude of anything, but you really should be on your guard. She has been traveling a great deal lately, and all sorts of things can happen when in a large city where one is unknown. The purpose of my plan for Gwaren was that a child of both of you should inherit. That is the condition of the proposal. A child of Maude alone would not actually be eligible, you see.

Rhoswyn is in perfect health, and the nurse tells me she is developing well and doing everything a child of her age is supposed to do. She will be starting solid food soon, which is an important stage. Alistair continues to dote upon her, which is odd, but not unpleasant. His behavior to me is quite satisfactory as well.

Sincere affection and congratulations,

Your daughter,

Anora

"So?" Maude asked, her voice light on the surface, but charged with suppressed anger. "Everything all right with the baby? And what about this 'surprise' she's feeling? Does she say anything more about it?"

Loghain thought swiftly, and decided it would be a very, very bad mistake for Maude to ever see this letter. He folded it carefully and forced himself to appear unconcerned, "Mostly about Rhoswyn and her progress, which I'm informed is most satisfactory. She mentions our child, of course, and gives her congratulations, but obviously expects me to be as neglectful a father as I was in her youth. I wonder if it will offend her if I am not?"

Maude was watching him like a cat with a mouse. Loghain hoped his deception was good enough. She smiled sweetly, still watching him.

"But Alistair said that Anora was 'surprised' that we were having a child. I realize that she must know something of the difficulties related the Grey Wardens, but he really shouldn't blab Warden secrets to her." She considered the matter. "All the more reason never to tell him anything more."

Loghain did not trust Alistair not to blab, especially as his relationship with Anora was so very 'satisfactory.' "I believe you're right. No more Warden secrets for the King."

"Good." She cocked her head. "You're not going to let me see that letter, are you?"

"No."

"I won't fight with you about it." She kissed the top of his head. "I'm off to help Felsi settle into her new quarters."

Loghain waited until Maude's footsteps had faded away before throwing Anora's letter in the fire. He then readied parchment and ink and wrote a reply, wishing he could dip the quill in acid. The letter would be a mixture of truth, disingenuous equivocation, and outright lies, but it had to be written.

Anora-

I received your latest missive. I read it, and then destroyed it. Maker forbid that its contents were to become known. I have taken care that Maude will never see it. The speculations you offer are wrong, offensive, and unworthy of you. Do not share such ludicrous conjectures with any one else, and I include the King in that. Do you not understand how Maude would respond to a slur on her honor and a threat to her child? If you do not, perhaps you should hear a few more of Alistair's tales of their adventures. Do you think she would be afraid to confront you? When has she ever been afraid to confront anyone?

As to His Majesty's letter, which she has just read aloud to me: it might have been meant in jest, but it has hurt Maude deeply to be attacked at what should be a happy moment in her life. I will say no more about it.

I do not owe you any details, but it is a fact that Maude was pregnant at the time of Rhoswyn's birth. We wished to say nothing at the time, because it seemed inappropriate to call attention away from the blessed and momentous arrival of an heir to the throne. Yes, we had our difficulties, but Anders is a mage and a Healer equal to and perhaps superior to Wynne. At this point, I am certainly much more conversant with Grey Warden lore than your husband, so your helpful hints are no news to me. However, there is no doubt that I am the father. Put any other thoughts from your mind at once. Above all, do not go out of your way to foolishly make a mortal enemy out of a valued friend and supporter. And don't let that husband of yours indulge in any reckless loose talk.

You made the situation in Gwaren a linchpin of your bid for the Arling of Denerim. How can you claim to be surprised that we are expecting a child? Maude—and I—took your proposal as a plea for assistance. She had not thought seriously about an heir, as she had been warned of the difficulties, but once you made that demand of us. we were was determined to do everything possible to further your domestic policies. You did not need the problem of ugly rumors and accusations of double-dealing from the Bannorn that would arise from Gwaren having no ruler.

So the child will be born sometime in Drakonis. I will acknowledge my son without doubt or hesitation. He will be the Teyrn of Gwaren and a loyal support to your throne—and Rhoswyn's, I trust.

Your exasperated father,

Loghain

He hoped that this letter would put paid to Anora's suspicions. It was too much to hope that it would stop her from plotting.

Thanks for your reviewers: Phygmalion, Kira Kyuu, Juliafied, cloud1004, Anime-StarWars-fan-zach, Zute, Guile, Shakespira, mille libri, Jyggilag, Enaid Aderyn, Evil Elven Ice Queen, riverdaleswhiteflash, Tyanilth, and Aryk von Straln.

"No King but a Cousland" is derived from a medieval saying about the family name of the Earls of Northumberland, also lords in the North (though in this case, of England): "No Prince but a Percy."