The Keening Blade

Chapter 39: The Flagon With the Dragon

It seemed to Loghain that he was in the Deep Roads for a long, long time.

Fortunately, he had Sigrun with him, and her stone sense gave measure to the days without sun. They carried more with them than usual. A small lap desk, nicely fitted out with parchment, quills, measuring tools, and ink, was in Darrow's pack. In the desk were copies of their maps of the Deep Roads. The party was engaged in correcting, refining, improving those maps in the area closest to Soldier's Peak: Amaranthine and eastern Highever. It was a start on a project dear to Loghain's heart: hunting down and destroying the darkspawn hiding under the soil of Ferelden.

The more he thought about it, the more it galled Loghain that this threat had been allowed to exist. A parallel word menaced them, lurking malignantly beneath their own. Not the benign world of the dwarves, a symbiotic arrangement between two sovereign peoples; but something loathsome and vile, an infection that had festered unchallenged for hundreds of years. It galled him even more to remember that he had known of it—experienced it for himself—but had never done anything himself in his days as Teyrn or Chancellor or Regent. Like everyone else, he had accepted the existence of darkspawn as inevitable but irrelevant.

Knowing what he knew now, the world had changed for him; but it did not seem to have changed for anyone else. Everyone was still trapped in the same mindset: the darkspawn were an intrinsic part of their world: a diseased limb that no one had the courage to amputate. The letters he received from the other Warden posts indicated that it was all business as usual: maintain their numbers, patrol for training, and if darkspawn troubled the surface, hunt them down.

Why not do more? Why not make a concerted attempt to destroy the creatures: to take the fight to them, to eradicate their breeding grounds and their lairs? Somewhere, someone must make a beginning. Loghain had decided it was high time for a comprehensive mapping of the underworld within Ferelden borders—and maybe even a little beyond.

In Orzammar, they had copied the dwarves' maps. In the Warden's ancient library, a number of books told the story as it stood two hundred years before. His adventures in Amaranthine, however, had taught Loghain that the darkspawn had wrought major changes to the dwarves' elegant routes. A connecting tunnel here, a destroyed bridge there, and beyond an ambush. The general shape of the territory was the same, but essential details had altered over time.

He led his party to Drake's Fall, first of all. The place was empty of darkspawn, and the Taint could be cleansed by fire. Sketch's elven eyes were wide and wary in his first lengthy experience of life underground, but it was comparatively benign: a few deepstalkers, a few spiders, some withered darkspawn corpses.

Nor was there a great deal of treasure. Maude had been very thorough on their previous visits. Nonetheless, Sigrun cheerfully undertook the recruits' training in the ways of supplementing the quarterly stipend. Osbeck and Brangel seemed to enjoy it, so that was all to the good. Morrigan, on the other hand, was at her most sarcastic. Loghain would have teased her about missing Anders, had he been the sort to tease about such a thing, or she the sort who would take such teasing without mayhem. Topaz, of course, trotted along happily wherever her friend Loghain chose to go. Her last unattached puppy, Onyx, was weaned now, and staying with his sire at Soldier's Peak.

With a great deal of backtracking and patient maze-walking, they found the tunnel that had replaced a collapsed portion of the Deep Roads: the way underground to Kal' Hirol from Drake's Fall.

There they met dwarves.

"Atrast vala, Grey Wardens!"

It was a friendly meeting, to be sure. Orzammar was on extremely good terms with the Wardens. The commander of the expedition, Jerthik Meino, listened to their stories of the initial rediscovery, and shared some tales of his own. The battling phantoms were fading as the Taint receded and more and more of the thaigs became habitable. It was slow and painstaking work, removing the malodorous crust of darkspawn ages, but progress was being made. Loghain was pleased at the existence of a dwarven stronghold here. It was yet another weapon in the fight against the darkspawn.

"It was too bad about the the treasury," Commander Jerthik grumbled. "We had hoped—but it had evidently been cleared out when the thaig evacuated. Still, it is a worthy thing to recover the great engineering discoveries that lay buried here. A great thing for the dwarves."

Loghain nodded gravely, his face blank. Sigrun's expression was one of childlike innocence. The ancient treasures of Kal' Hirol were locked away in the vaults of Soldier's Peak, and there they would stay. Morrigan's smirk was perhaps too telling. Loghain changed the subject and asked for the news from Orzammar.

"Well," said the dwarf. "King Bhelen isn't afraid of new things! Do you know that some of my people are casteless...?" he grimaced, noticing Sigrun's facial tattoos. "—and a few are surfacers. The King insisted on it. They might never be accepted in Orzammar, but the king feels that Kal'Hirol can do things its own way." His uneasy glance met Loghain's impassive gaze.

Or Bhelen's way. Loghain understood the man well enough.

"So, in a way," the dwarf continued, "Nobody here is casteless. Short-handed as we are, everyone has a place, and work to do..."

Yes, they had found and fought darkspawn, but the creatures were comparatively few in number: severely weakened by the end of the Blight, and also perhaps, by the odd civil war that the Architect had instigated among their kind. They had found no more intelligent darkspawn—on this journey, at least. That did not mean that there were no more.

The dwarven commander saw the sense in Loghain's ideas for a series of barriers door along what the dwarves called the Amgarrack Road. It was the long passage that stretched all the way from Orzammar to Kal Hirol. If that one stretch of Deep Roads could be made safe, it would do much for the dwarves.

Of course it was complicated: dozens of other roads and tunnels, official and makeshift, branched from it. Progress had been made in retaking a number of the old abandoned thaigs. Aeducan Thaig, thanks in part to the Wardens, was secure. Ortan Thaig could be ventured into with reasonable safety by a strong force. The adventurers in Kal Hirol were in much more precarious circumstances, but they were close to the Ferelden Wardens. Loghain could see the advantage in helping them tighten their control of the settlement, and also start reaching west to Orzammar, while Orzammar reached east to them.

In the meantime, Loghain would copy the friendly dwarves' maps, discovering the passages that had allowed the Architect to travel from the silverite mines of Amaranthine all the way to Drake's Fall.

Wanting to verify the maps' accuracy for himself. Loghain led his party through a twisting tunnel, going further east. As marked, there was a broad underground river, still spanned by the remains of an ancient bridge, the shallow arches noble in decay. So much of the structure was gone that they had to cross it in single file, but it served its purpose. A little beyond was a corridor that branched off their path. Standing at the tunnel's narrow mouth, Loghain picked up a strong sensation of darkspawn. Their time was limited, so Loghain marked it on the map, and they moved on.

After a long sleep, they continued east. Eventually they found another side tunnel, which took them into large, finished chambers.

"I know this place!" Sigrun declared. "This is the back end of the Architect's hideout! Remember those dragons we ate, Loghain? They were tasty."

Brangel grimaced. Osbeck looked very impressed.

They rounded a corner, opened a door—

"Andraste's smelly socks!" shouted a complete stranger. He took a look at the grim party of Wardens, threw down the pick he was carrying, and then turned to run. "Bandits!" he yelped "Bandits in the mine!"

It was sorted out fairly quickly. The mine was being worked again, and the men here were employed by the Arlessa of Amaranthine. Neither the foremen nor his men were thrilled to learn that their mine connected to the Deep Roads. Loghain, of course, was greeted with respect, and some trepidation.

"Nobody questions the right of the Grey Wardens to go anywhere they like underground, of course," the foreman assured him hastily. "Are you going to Vigil's Keep, my lord?"

"Call me Warden-Commander," Loghain corrected wearily, for what felt like the thousandth time. "No. We will camp here and head back the way we came. We are searching the Deep Roads under Amaranthine for darkspawn lairs."

The man's eyes were very, very wide.

"Er...good luck with that, my lord Commander, and Maker turn his gaze on you!"

Morrigan sneered at the fool, and spoke quietly to Loghain.

"I cannot endure another night underground," she informed him. "Live like a deepstalker if you will, but I must have the wind in my face and the leaves under my feet tonight. Can we not camp at the mouth of the mine?"

"We can."

It was only the one night, and Loghain sympathized, anyway. He remembered this whole area in the Wending Wood as being rather attractive, when it was not overrun by darkspawn. The miners, they discovered, were served by a sutler who was willing to trade with Loghain for some fresh food and a keg of decent ale. They made camp in the shelter of the mine entrance, and built up a good fire.

Loghain stepped out into the open air, admiring the dark green of the pines, and the beauty of the landscape. With so many trees bare of leaf, he could make out in the distance two of the many ancient votive statues erected nearby. Meanwhile, between them, Kain and Sketch concocted a fairly edible rabbit stew. Sufficient food, plus the good ale, cheered the Wardens' spirits, Loghain was pleased to see. Maybe his own, too—a little—he reflected, drinking deeply. Morrigan drained her cup, and then strolled through the doorway, brushing past him.

"I shall return...later..." she murmured.

She transformed into a she-wolf and vanished into the night, to the delight of Topaz, who immediately set off in pursuit, glad of the chance to play.

"That's pretty disturbing," Kain remarked. "Always sets my teeth on edge, like."

"Could be worse," grunted Darrow. "Wolves are all right. Glad she can't do a snake. Can't abide snakes."

Osbeck sat at the fire beside Loghain, thinking over what he had seen.

"She is a mighty witch. It is good to have one of such power allied with us."

Loghain shrugged. "She is a Warden. Like you. Like me."

Osbeck frowned. "For now. Witches cannot be taken for granted."

Sigrun wandered out a little way, looking up at the sky filled with stars.

"It's so pretty," she sighed with satisfaction. "Don't you ever with you could catch a star and keep it in a box?"

"I'm sure Maude would like one," Loghain allowed, "but she'd probably want it set in gold and wear it as jewelry."

The men laughed, nodding. Sigrun eventually yielded to the night and curled up under a blanket. Morrigan and Topaz did not return to camp until much later. They trotted in, panting, and threw themselves down on either side of Loghain, asleep in moments.

Loghain awoke briefly, saw what was keeping him so warm, and went back to sleep with a snort. It was no one else's business if Morrigan preferred sleeping in wolf form. He knew when he was well off. Just as long as no one blabbed to Anders or Maude about him sleeping with Morrigan, everything should be all right…

They lingered over breakfast the following day, making new plans.

"Can we go Denerim by way of the Deep Roads?" Sketch asked.

Kain liked that idea. "Keep us out of the cold and wet, it would."

"No," Loghain said briefly, disappointing them. "It can't be done. The Deep Roads don't come anywhere near Denerim—at least as far as we know now."

It had disappointed Loghain, too, months ago, when he discovered that there was no way to enter Denerim by way of the Deep Roads. Then he immediately rebuked himself. Had there been such a way, the darkspawn would have used it during the Blight, and probably would have attacked much sooner—long before the allies were gathered and Ferelden was prepared to defend itself. They could have burst up from the courtyard of the palace itself, unheralded. The horror of such imaginings made Loghain take a number of deep breaths. Why torture himself like this? The only city in all Ferelden that could accessed directly by the Deep Roads was Gwaren, which for unknown reasons the darkspawn had not assailed. Of course, the route to Gwaren had been cleared out very thoroughly, thirty years before, by Loghain himself, with Rowan, Maric, and the Legion of the Dead.

Well, that raised an interesting question, one which he discussed with his Wardens.

"How well do the darkspawn know the Deep Roads?" he wondered. "They live in them, yes, but do they know them? With the exceptions of freaks like the Architect, the darkspawn do not read or write. They do not make maps. Perhaps if they have not wandered into a branch of the Deep Roads, it is unknown to them."

"That could be," Morrigan considered. "'Tis the Old Gods who call to the darkspawn. If a tunnel or corridor is not in the path to the Old God, there would be little reason for the darkspawn to explore it."

"They've been down there for a thousand years," Sigrun pointed out. "It gives them plenty of time to bumble in everywhere. If there were a new tunnel somewhere, that would be different. Or a Road that was already cleared out really thoroughly."

"Yes," Loghain considered, thinking. That could certainly explain Gwaren. He must explore that route and see if his theory was correct. The exit was at the end of a tunnel, by the sea. The darkspawn had not been called there during the Blight, and their population would not spread there by normal means. If the Wardens could clear out enough of the Deep Roads under Ferelden, and have the dwarves build more barrier doors, they might be able to push them out from under the country altogether. He smirked, picturing the darkspawn ejected across the border, like a good housekeeper flicks dust out the door. All the surviving darkspawn deported to Orlais... It was a bold dream, but why have any other kind?

Sigrun leaned over for a glimpse of the map. "Where next?"

"We'll need to go home soon," Darrow pointed out to Loghain, "Or your lady will have our hides."

"We'll head north and west," Loghain decided. "We'll see if the barrier doors are all right under Vigil's Keep. We'll trace the pathway that leads back to Drake's Fall this time. If that's clear, we'll know we've wiped out most of the darkspawn under Amaranthine."

Of course, to make certain of that, they needed to discover and destroy any Broodmothers in the general area. That was definitely on his list, but perhaps it was a mission for another time.

More time passed; more maps were corrected; straggling bands of darkspawn were engaged and destroyed. They traced their way to Vigil's Keep and found the barrier doors intact. On this side of them, it was impossible to come up through the castle dungeons, which was just as well, probably, for Arlessa Delilah's peace of mind. Loghain reminded himself to write to her on his return home. There was still the matter of Amaranthine's defenses to discuss.

He missed Maude. He felt the lack of her increasingly. He regretted that these men were not experiencing the fun and adventure of traveling with her and hearing her opinions on everything. Not that he imagined her having the least difficulty administering the desmesne, but he hoped she would have nothing to particularly distress her while he was gone. He hoped heartily that Their Majesties would send no more of their insupportable letters—at least not until they had given some thought to their manners.

How were the recruiters faring? Loghain was faintly anxious about how Anders would be treated at the Circle. As a Grey Warden he should be beyond its control, but he suspected those in power there would still have the power to be quite unpleasant to him. He made a mental note to create another recruiting itinerary, this time down through Redcliffe and on to the Dalish lands.

Morrigan was growing sulky again. Long periods beneath the surface really did not agree with her. It was something to consider when making any future plans. And it could be that she was missing Anders. Her lover did a great deal to even her temper—or at least give her a focused target for it. As always when she was out of spirits, she resorted to animal forms more frequently. Being a bird in the Deep Roads was not ideal, and so Loghain often found a wolf padding just behind him. Topaz was not at all jealous, and seemed to like the companionship. It was useful, too: a Grey Warden in wolf form could not only sense the darkspawn, she could smell them. That proved extremely useful, when they encountered a large band of darkspawn in a narrow tunnel deep under the Feravel Plains.

They almost lost Kain there; and would have if Sigrun had been slower. But she, the brave girl, was in, axes whirling, hewing down the hurlock at the knees. Morrigan was not much of a Healer, but she was good for one solid, all-purpose healing spell, that at least stopped Kain's bleeding and alleviated his headache. They followed the tunnel to a big cavern and found an unmapped branch tunnel that descended on a steep grade and reeked of darkspawn. A lot of darkspawn. Loghain marked it on the map, too.

"We should not linger here," Morrigan whispered urgently. Sigrun and the lads were racing around the chamber, whooping at their finds. Darkspawn had lived here for some time, and had quite the collection of trophies here: human leg bones and skulls, but also the shiny things that they seem to fancy: coin and jewelry and other trinkets. And then, from a broken chest, Kain drew out an astonishing gold drinking vessel in the form of a sleeping dragon curled in on itself. After the first, jaw-dropping astonishment, they dug deeper, and in the chest they found other golden items: rings, brooches, bracelets, and a neck torque with bulls on the finials.

"I am no antiquarian," said Morrigan, "but this is all very old indeed. The chasings are elegant, but of a time before the kingdom of Ferelden existed."

"Not Tevinter, either," Sketch chimed in. "More like the old Alamarri style, but a lot better than any of their things I've ever seen."

"The cup's pretty, innit?" remarked Darrow. "Be a shame to melt it down. Reckon her ladyship would like it a lot."

Well, truer words were never spoken. Loghain briefly made some generous arrangements with his party, and the amazing vessel fell to his lot.

Sigrun was dwarf enough to respond particularly strongly to the allure of gold. She stared at the object in wonder. "We should use it for the Joining cup," she said solemnly. "Always."

"Indeed we should!" Morrigan agreed briskly. "The Joining potion tarnishes silver. This would be far more practical."

They loaded up their treasures, and moved away. Loghain threw a backwards glance at the descending tunnel. It had a nasty feel to it. They walked until they were weary, for he felt it was a good idea to stay far from that place until they could come back with a very large force indeed.

By the time they made camp, Morrigan was in a bad mood again, not even cheered by her new gold baubles. She dropped her pack abruptly and shifted into her wolf form, padding about and growling softly. Topaz whined and licked her face. The wolf growled again, and found a corner to curl up in, her back to her companions. Sigrun kindly put her rations on a tin plate and set them down beside her, while the rest ate. Morrigan did not deign to touch them until the party was asleep and snoring. Loghain remained on watch, smirking faintly when the wolf quietly got up and ate. He dug out some dried smoke sausage and added it to the plate. After a moment of haughty bristling, the wolf gave in and ate that, too.

"We'll be home tomorrow, with any luck," Loghain said soothingly.

The wolf gazed at him so despondently that Loghain patted his knee. She crept over and put her head in his lap. After awhile she dozed, lulled by the pleasure of having her ears scratched.

They eventually emerged from the ruins of Drake's Fall into a white world of premature winter. A thin layer of snow had softened the harsh terrain outside the ruined fortress; frost glinted from tree branches and withered weeds.

Loghain blinked at the unaccustomed light. The position of the sun jolted him back into the natural, orderly rhythms of surface time, telling him that it was late morning. It was theoretically only a half-day's journey from Drake's Fall to Soldier's Peak, but today they would be trudging through snow.

It was not unbearably cold, but obviously much colder than it had been the Deep Roads, where there was no weather and the temperature was always mild. Cloaks were unpacked and donned hastily.

"We'll be at the Peak before dark," Loghain said. "Get moving."

"Or I could just fly home," Morrigan muttered, yellow eyes taking in the open sky with wistful longing.

"Or not," Loghain said, with a significant look at her pack. He was not carrying it for her, and he was not allowing her to cozen anyone else to do it either. Sigrun was so sweet-tempered she would probably do it, but it was not fair.

Morrigan turned up her nose at him, daring him to say anything about the night before; but fell into step quickly enough, slinging her pack over her shoulder, drawing up her hood to cover her dark hair from the wind. There was no way she was going to miss the chance to deck herself out in those gold bracelets.

Topaz seemed pleased to be above ground, too, and shook herself, trotting to and fro, enjoying the scents carried on the chilly wind.

"We missed Satinalia, being underground and all," Loghain heard Darrow say to Kain. "Reckon we'll do something for First Day?"

"Dunno," Kain answered. "Do Wardens have holidays and all? 'Cos it would be nice. My mum used to make stuffed capon for First Day. And suet pudding."

"That's all right, but I could go for wild boar, With roast onions."

Sketch muttered, "I could go for anything that isn't nug. Or deepstalker. Or lichen. Especially lichen. Morrigan, have you ever used magic to cook?"

"Magic? Cook using magic?" Morrigan stopped, and stared at him aghast. "Is that the sort of magic one learns in a Circle? Why would one do anything so mundane with spells?"

Darrow thought that over. "'Cos it'd be easier that way?"

Loghain grinned. Morrigan sniffed and walked a little faster.

"Next," she said, full of indignation, "you will want magic to clean your floors and launder your filth-encrusted smallclothes!"

"That would be a fine thing," Osbeck remarked seriously. "Many would thank you."

"I know I would," Brangel agreed. "Laundry soap gives me the itch down there."

"Uh, guys.." Sigrun put in. "I'd stop winding Morrigan up if I were you. She has the power to turn your manly bits to icicles."

A contemplative silence, broken only by the crunch of boots on snow.

"I was not winding her up," earnestly rumbled Osbeck. "We of the Avar respect a witch's great power."

Morrigan's walk became insufferably smug. Loghain smirked at her behind her back.

Maude was no longer wearing tight corsets with her gowns. Nothing could quite conceal the changes to her figure. She looked wonderfully pretty and quite radiant as she rushed to welcome Loghain and his party back hom. Even better, she was pleasantly warm, which counted for quite a bit after a long and disagreeably frosty march.

She called for hot spiced wine, and hurried them all into the Great Hall, where comfortable fires were crackling yellow and blue. Ranger barked and wagged his tail, and Topaz barked too, happy to see her mate and her puppy Onyx. In the time they had been gone, the puppy had grown quite a bit. Valentine and Bethany arrived, smiling and relaxed. Loghain suspected they had enjoyed having the castle nearly to themselves. Maude had no trouble making herself heard over the greetings and chatter.

"Oh, you're all back! And all the bits of you, too. I'm so glad! Varric wrote," she told Loghain, in between kisses. "And the Warden-Commander of Nevarra wrote. And so did Allonby. All my renovations in Gwaren are complete. You'll like them. And the First Warden wrote, but his letter was stupid."

"Are you well?" he asked her, holding her by the shoulders to look her over.

"I'm fine, but it's all very odd," she confided to Loghain, pointing to the distinct baby bump. "There's another person in there. I'm not the only one in my body. I wonder if this is like possession?"

"Is the baby urging you to go on a murderous rampage?" Loghain asked.

"Well…no," she admitted. "More on eating rampages. And embroidery rampages, which, you'll have to admit, are much more unusual in Ferelden than murderous rampages, which are pretty common, after all."

"Only in the circles you frequent."

Morrigan was looking about, a faint frown creasing her brow. "Is the recruiting party back yet?"

"Not yet. Sorry, Morrigan. You're looking well. Did you find any nice treasure?"

"As it happens," the witch drawled, "we did. Loghain must show you."

Faces fell. Darrow spoke for them all, when he said, "Couldn't you show her the...er...thingy in front of all of us"?

Morrigan nearly cackled. Maude's eyes filled with repressed hilarity.

"Oh, do!" she urged Loghain. "Do show me the thingy in front of everybody!"

Loghain rolled his eyes and fetched his backpack. Maude's amusement was instantly transmuted to rapture when the dragon vessel was produced. Bethany and Valentine were most satisfyingly dumbstruck. The dragon cup looked even better in the firelight and candlelight of the Great Hall than it had in the gloom of the Deep Roads.

Maude snatched it up eagerly. "This is so fabulous. It's like the ancient treasure of the Alamarris!"

"Actually," Loghain told her, "it's part of what we think must have been an ancient Alamarri treasure cache."

"Really? I want to see all the other bits."

Gold glinted in their hands, around their necks, on their fingers and jangled sweetly at wrists. Loghain eyed Maude suspiciously, but she did not seem inclined to covet any one else's plunder. Instead she admired the pieces with real enthusiasm, while the housekeeper brought the hot wine and toasted cheese.

"I found the chest...and the cup," Kain blurted out sheepishly.

"Well, you are a very good treasure-finder!" Maude enthused, fingertips caressing the cup most tenderly. "This is scrumptious!"

"We thought we could use it for Joinings," said Sigrun. "Morrigan says that the Joining potion tarnishes silver."

"What a good idea!" Maude agreed instantly. "And it's true about the Joining potion. Makes silver black as a darkspawn's heart. Whereas anybody would drink anything out of a cup like this! That's very helpful. The recruits won't be frightened at the Joining anymore because they'll all be staring at the glory of the flagon with the dragon." She caught Loghain's expression and laughed. "Yes, I know, it's a chalice, not a flagon. It's a chalice that belongs in a palace, but I'm not giving it away. It is as of now an ancient heirloom of the Wardens and we've had it for simply ages."

They dispersed for baths and clean, warm clothes. Maude was very helpful with Loghain's bath, soaping him up with lascivious enthusiasm, and rinsing him down with bliss-inducing care. He lay back, muzzy and relaxed in the steaming water, while she told him the news.

"I just received a letter from my friend Varric in Kirkwall. It was fairly entertaining. Do you want to hear it?"

"Ummm..."

Taking this as consent, she unlocked their private desk, and pulled out the sheets of parchment. A quick, naughty glance, and she began reading:

"So, Princess—how's the Warden business going?"

"He calls you 'Princess?'" Loghain scowled, sitting up with a splash. That seemed excessively familiar to him.

"Varric likes to give people nicknames," Maude smiled, with a little shrug. "He calls Bethany 'Sunshine,' and their little elf mage 'Daisy.' Anyway, things are interesting there. The Arishok summoned Hawke to warn him about a possible danger. A person or persons unknown stole something from the Qunari, thinking it was the formula for gaatlok. Instead, it was the formula for something quite nasty indeed—and here's what Varric says about it."

She cleared her throat.

"I swear to you, Princess, the elf was completely round the bend. Hated humans. Hated Qunari, because they've made quite a few converts in the Alienage. So this maniac decided to test the stuff in the middle of Pinchpenny Square! It's a stinking gas that makes humans and elves absolutely loony. That would be pretty funny, except it makes them violently loony, too. Even the elf saw that there wasn't much point in screwing around with the minds of slumdwellers. Now if she had let the stuff loose in Hightown…that might have made an impression!

"So the crew put her down: Hawke, Fenris, Merrill, Isabela, and me. A lot of innocent bystanders breathed in the stuff and ended up dead. The city guard was trying to keep people out of the area, but as usual, they had no idea how to cope with a crisis involving anything more complicated than a pair of drunks waving broken bottles. Don't tell the Captain I said that! But it's true.

"Everybody says hello. Actually, 'everybody' is lounging at the bar, but they're waving their mugs in the direction of this letter. So that counts.

"When the Arishok summoned Hawke, he said, 'It will be interesting to see if you die.' Not the warmest and fuzziest of pals, our Arishok, but the broody elf seems to think that he's showing Hawke uncommon respect. Not to worry, Princess, I'll bet the Deep Roads treasure that his heart still belongs to you."

Loghain grunted skeptically, and reached for a towel.

"How nice," Maude laughed. "The Arishok is very imposing." She read on:

"I swear, the Arishok's face is carved in a permanent rictus of disgust now. He really, I mean really, cannot stand this place. It's only a matter of time before the clash of civilizations makes his head explode. What with the horns, that could be pretty dangerous.

"On to the latest. We have a new gig; or we will soon. Awhile back we took care of some mercs for this Prince of Starkhaven who's a brother in the Kirkwall Chantry. The name's Sebastian Vael, and he is the genuine article. Sworn to chastity and obedience and all, but his family was murdered by the Flint Company, so he's rethinking his options. The Grand Cleric is sort of his surrogate mother or something, but he's not buying her whole 'vengeance is not the answer' line. Hawke and yours truly took care of the Flint Company, and our prince paid us very well. Oh, they really were the killers, Princess: one of the bastards was wearing a necklace that belonged to the Prince's little sister.

"You didn't meet Sebastian Vael when you were in town, but you'd be entertained. Wears white armor. I kid you not. Tries to convert us to the light of Andraste in one sentence, and in the next it's on to smiting his enemies. He wants us to help him go after the nobles who financed the Flint Company's attack. He's willing to help, but doesn't want to do it all by his lonesome, which I suppose makes sense. He's rich, anyway; so at least we'll get paid.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah: I know. We're rich now. That doesn't mean that we should get a rep for working gratis. That's one of the best ways I know to lose respect in this town. So it looks like we'll check out Prince Sebastian's old family friends. Real soon.

"Your devoted worshiper,

Varric"

She put the letter aside and helped Loghain towel off in front of the fire. He was still thinking over an earlier part of the letter. "What is this poison gas of the qunaris?" he wondered. "Would it work on darkspawn?"

"Ooo! Good point!" Maude enthused. "I'll ask for the formula in my next letter."

Maude had not been idle in his absence. She had kept up with the correspondence and paid official visits to their villages, settling disputes and dealing with petty crime. She had also made preparations for their expected recruits. Rooms in the north wing were arranged with two beds and two chests in each: with armor and weapon stands and candlestands and a writing table and chairs. The quarters were simple, but more comfortable than any barracks Loghain had ever seen. A welcoming feast was planned, and could be thrown together with a half-day's notice.

After a discussion with Maude, Morrigan agreed that she had sufficiently understood Avernus' notes to make doses of the improved potion for all the current Wardens at the Peak. They would be distributed first, and if all went well, the new formula would be used in all future Joinings.

More grimly, a large pyre was built out in the sheltered meadow north of the castle. It would not be visible to anyone unless they actually walked out there, or stood at the top of the north tower looking for it.

Within a sevenday the recruiting party returned.

From the first moment, it was obvious that it had been a very great success. There were twenty-three new recruits: sixteen men and seven women, now gazing in awe at the imposing Great Hall, with its carved pillars and marble chessboard floor. Not all would live, but even at the worst they could expect that at least a third might; and such an addition would very much supplement their numbers. Keenan gravely presented the list of names to his Warden-Commander. Telamon's puppy Madcap yipped cheerfully, glad to be home. Loghain shook his head as the strangely-shaped sling that had carried the puppy halfway across Ferelden.

Maude was in her element, playing hostess to the mob of them. She was bejeweled and bright-eyed, clad in silver- grey and midnight-black, a lady the likes of which none of them had ever seen before. Several recruits reflexively bowed, or touched their forelocks in respect.

"Welcome to Soldier's Peak, warden recruits! Leave your packs here in the training room," she ordered, her velvet skirts sweeping the floor behind her. "I'll have some snacks laid out for you directly. Valentine and Bethany will take you down to the bathing rooms so you can clean up a bit. We'll show you about a bit, find places for you all, and have an early dinner."

Once they were more or less washed and oriented, each of them was presented to Loghain: shuffling, pink-cheeked young archers from the Bannorn; scruffy rangers from the forests near Lake Calenhad; a quartet of Dust Town bruisers; a pair of Dalish elves the rest of whose clan had perished in the Blight; some genuine hard cases, who saw no future in the mercenary life; and one mage.

"And this is Ambrose Amell, Loghain," Anders said grandly. "I had to be fairly aggressive at the Circle to get even one recruit. Old Irving has it in for me, and while Greagoir would as soon have cut me in two as look at me, things are actually worse there now with the new Knight-Commander."

For the moment, Loghain ignored the issue of a new power at the Circle, and instead studied the tall young man, pale and thin as fine parchment, his dark eyes hooded and shadowed, his black hair falling in careless waves.

"Are you well?" Loghain asked bluntly.

"Not very," Amell replied without ceremony. Perhaps he was not quite as young as Loghain had first thought. There were fine lines etched around the eyes, and carved into the sides of the sullen mouth. "But it was nice seeing the sunlight again after a year and a half."

Anders waggled his brows at Loghain. Clearly there was much more to the story.

"So this is Bethany's cousin!" Maude joined them, smiling at their new recruit. Bethany was just behind her, rather pleased and excited. "How extraordinary that they finally meet here at Soldier's Peak!"

"Hello," Bethany said, a little shyly. "I've heard of you, of course."

"Never heard of you at all," Amell shrugged, giving her proffered hand a single, dismissive shake. "Never heard from anybody after I was sent to Ferelden to be locked up and hidden away. I didn't even know that Cousin Leandra ran off with an apostate. Serves the family right. They tried to pretend I never existed, but it didn't do them a bit of good, after all. From what Anders told me, it sounds like we're the only ones left."

Bethany was a little hurt at his lack of enthusiasm. "That's right. It's just you, Mother, Adam, and me now. And Uncle Gamlen, of course. He sort of inherited everything, and then lost it all. Adam's got the house back now."

"Ah," drawled Amell with mock nostalgia. "'I remember, I remember, the house where I was born.'"

"It's a very nice house," Bethany said. "I'm sure that Mother and Adam will like living there."

Amell's thin face twisted in a mild grimace. "That's nice for them."

Bethany's voice sharpened, ever so slightly. "—and I'm sure that you'll like living here. I do. Excuse me. I have to speak to my friends."

She walked away, head high, and began chatting with determined animation to Sigrun and a group of new recruits. Amell felt eyes on him, and stiffened.

"Was it something I said?"

"Well, yes," Maude explained kindly. "That, and the whole 'I am a giant prat' thing you have going. Other than that, you were perfectly charming to the nice young kinswoman who was offering you the hand of friendship."

She granted the men a brilliant smile, and then was waved down by the housekeeper, who was frantically trying to put dinner on the table.

The men were briefly silent. Anders remarked. "Ambrose, you remember how in the Circle you had to watch out for the Templars? Well, here it's the women. Don't cross 'em."

A dry chuckle from Loghain. "Wise words, since he'll be sharing a tower with Morrigan." He fixed Amell with an amused stare. "Senior Warden Mage Morrigan…"

Amell looked mildly nervous. "We met…briefly."

"Ah."

Very soon, they were called to dinner. Special efforts had been made, and it was clear that most of the recruits had never seen such place or such a dinner in their lives. Maude had seated them at their own table, and they fell to like starving mabaris.

There was traditional Fereldan lamb-and-pea stew, of course, but Maude had put that on the bill of fare as something of a joke. There was wine at the head table, but the others had good ale and cider with their meal. There was roast pork and apples; there was saddle of mutton with turnips and onions; there was chicken pie in a rich and crumbling crust, the herbed fragrance heady and irresistible; there were honey-glazed ducks, hot off the spit; there were all sorts of pickles, and spiced walnuts and roasted chestnuts; there was pumpkin bread and barley bread and crusty wheaten bread; there were mounds of mashed cabbage and potatoes, drizzled with butter; there were deep bowls of greens stewed with bacon; and then there were cheesecakes, and honeycakes, and fruitcakes, and almond milk pudding, frosted with sugar…

In time, the happily bloated recruits were trundled off to their beds, and Loghain briefly presented to the Wardens the plans and associated maps that would, in theory, earn each recruit an essential vial of darkspawn blood.

Next, every Warden was given a dose of the improved potion. No one particularly enjoyed it, but no one died or threw up the excellent dinner, either.

"I hope they all survive," Maude sighed. "I like them. Maybe the improved Joining potion will give them an extra edge."

"I'd be satisfied if we keep half of them," grunted Loghain.

The plan was to take groups of the recruits into the Deep Roads and head toward some of the darkspawn nests Loghain had noted on his maps. Twenty-three recruits were a lot to manage. There would be five groups, led by Loghain, Keenan, Oghren, Valentine,…and Morrigan.

'You wish me to lead one of these motley bands?" she asked, surprised. Loghain felt it was time to challenge her a little.

"You've never had a problem telling people what to do before," he pointed out. "You have great experience, and you know what you're doing."

Morrigan sniffed, and regarded the team assigned to her in bemusement and clear skepticism. The recruits, on the other hand, were in various states of respect, awe, and dread. Loghain had chosen Osbeck to support her as junior Warden, knowing the man admired her. The two Dalish elves were in the party, as they were accustomed to being led by their Keepers, who were invariably mages, Two dwarves and a hard-faced young woman of manifestly dodgy origins made up the rest of the party.

"Have a good time," Loghain suggested, "and try to bring some of them back."

Everyone was supposed to return within ten days. Some would take longer, some would take less. Loghain organized his own team, carefully objective. He had chosen among the weakest of the recruits, feeling that he and Bethany could make up the difference. He would lead them to the best of his ability, but he must not get too attached to any of them.

"When they come back, we should get on with it," Maude declared. "Let them rest and wash up, give them a really good meal, and then have the Joining right away."

Loghain nodded, his mind already on the journey ahead.

As it was, they lost three recruits in the Deep Roads. None from his own party, but Loghain wondered if he had done too much to protect them, at that. It was easy to forget the initial shock of the darkspawn, he realized. Over time, one became hardened to the horror. As to their recruits, sheer naked fear had killed one, and darkspawn two others. That left twenty for the Joining, which was held at a single time, after all the parties had returned. Somehow, it did not surprise Loghain to learn that Morrigan returned first: within six days, in fact.

They waited in the practice room, tremulous young neophytes, watched by Darrow and Kain, who knew all there was to know about recruits. Valentine came down four times, read off a list of five names, and led them like a handsome young guardian of souls, up the gleaming marbles stairs to their destiny in the War Room. Darrow and Kain came up with the last five, sharing the moment at last.

In her condition, Loghain did not want Maude handling darkspawn blood. She was there, reciting the ritual words in her lovely voice, while Loghain presented the astonishing, glittering dragon chalice to each frightened or determined or eager initiate. He also had his sword handy, ready to strike down those who had second, unwise thoughts. The survivors were laid out on straw pallets on the floor of the King's Bedchamber, watched over by Anders and Bethany. Those less fortunate or less resilient were carried down to a chilly antechamber. At the end of the Joining, they would be taken to the pyre in a wagon. The fire would claim them, and tomorrow they would become an addition to Maude's rose garden, now dormant in the grasp of early winter.

No one faltered. Perhaps it was the dreamy persuasiveness of Maude's voice, or the fact that everyone else was doing it. Perhaps it was the distracting glory of the golden cup. Loghain had given some thought to who should go first in each group, based on Telamon and Keenan's notes.

The mage, the very first of their initiates, survived. Despite his rudeness to her, Bethany looked very pleased and relieved, evidently already planning the letter she would send to Kirkwall, telling her mother and brother about their kinsman. Only one perished in that first group: one of the dwarves.

They lost four more. At the end of the Joining, it was agreed that this was an unusually successful recruitment. They had nearly doubled their numbers. There were now thirty-one Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Almost enough, Loghain reflected, to undertake some serious missions.

Thanks to my reviewers: RakeeshJ4, mutive, MsBarrows, sizuka2, Shakespira, Phygmalion, Mike, Josie Lange, Granoc, JackOfBladesX, crimsondawn, Zute, Kira Kyuu, Judy, Anime-StarWars-fan-zach, Sarah1281, karinfan123, Jenna53, Eva Galana, mille libri, Juliafied, Thomas Blaine, tgcgoddess, Enaid Aderyn, cloud1004, and riverdaleswhiteflash.