The Keening Blade
Chapter 42: Landsmeets, Bloody Landsmeets
The baby was so very small to be taking his first sea voyage. Loghain had avoided seafaring for over fifty years, and here was his little son Gareth, not even a month old, swinging happily in his glorious cradle on the deck of the Wild Wyvern. Near the cradle, placidly knitting, was his middle-aged human nursemaid Mairead, and near her was the young elf who Maude had engaged as a lady's maid. Clerys had large eyes, long braids wounded around her head, and an uncertain but hopeful expression. Her greatest virtues were her unfailing ability to get stains out of silk and her burning desire to see some part of the world other than the Gwaren Alienage.
Gareth had more than serving maids to guard him, to be sure. The dogs surrounded the cradle. Onyx, who was so very curious about the baby, would get up occasionally and peer in, wagging a stubby black tail.
Darrow and Kain, too, seemed to feel a special responsibility, and would come over to look at the swaddled little mite, grinning soppily.
Gareth had an adoring uncle in Fergus, who seemed to find every gurgle and mew proof of remarkable intelligence. And Anders totally abused his duties as Healer, taking every possible opportunity to hold his infant patient and talk inanities at him.
Morrigan could hardly be described as soppy or inane, but she took notice of little Gareth in her own cool and practical way, and did not object to lending a hand with him on occasion. Her input consisted mainly in rebuking those she considered a bad influence.
"The child is not a toy or a pet, Anders!" Morrigan scolded. "He is a person! If you persist in chattering on in this ridiculous way, you will turn him simple-minded! Speak to him as a rational creature lest you stunt his development!"
"But he's not a rational creature yet!" Anders beamed, ticking Gareth's soft little chin. "He's a cuddly itsy-bitsy little dumpling! Yes, he is!"
Loghain looked at Morrigan, and they rolled their eyes in unison.
And then there was Maude, of course, up on the quarter-deck, sword whirling from one hand to the other in hypnotic silver arcs as she exercised herself back into fighting trim. She had recovered from the stresses and terrors of childbirth with alarming speed. Of course, that was the Grey Warden constitution, amplified by the researches of the brilliant Avernus. She had devised a most curious and becoming leather cuirass, which could be unfastened at the front of either shoulder, enabling her to nurse the baby whilst still in armor.
"Dragonbone simply isn't practical for a nursing mother," she declared.
Probably not, Loghain agreed privately, though only Maude need be concerned with it.
She had also devised a sling for carrying the baby, well-padded to soften contact with his mother's armor, for Maude said that she wanted to meet their new protégés on the Isle of Mourne.
"I think it's an awfully interesting experiment," she said. "Let's see if freed Circle mages can survive on their own—but let's give them the wherewithal for a reasonable chance."
So there were a few chickens and sheep and goats. There was better cooking and sewing equipment. There were heavy cloaks and a proper box of carpentry tools.
Maude had amused herself with collecting books on practical subjects for their little mage colony.
"Mages are highly literate," she pointed out. "They are accustomed to learning things by reading. So I've collected every 'how-to" book I could find. If they have animals, they need to know how to feed them and care for them. They need to know how to gather eggs and how to milk goats and sheep, and how to make cheese, and how to gather wool and card it and spin it and weave it! Life is complicated!"
"I have never seen you spin wool," Loghain pointed out.
"That because I've been fighting for my life instead," she said with scornful hauteur. "Of course I know how to spin and weave! My mother taught me all those things so I'd know if servants were doing them right. And embroidery and cooking, too. " Seeing his skeptical look, she pulled out a hank of wool and a drop spindle from their supplies for Mourne, and within a few minutes, a neat thread was forming.
"See? If I can juggle, play the lute, and pick pockets, I can spin. I've always been good with my hands."
And then she insisted on taking a turn at the wheel of the ship. Loghain sat down with the charts, and worked on learning to make sense of them. Charts were like maps, but not identical to them. Mistakes about coastlines were unforgiving things. He had always been good at orienting himself by sun and stars, and that skill translated well to navigation at sea. He was familiar with the concept of the lodestone, too, As long as he knew up from down on land, he felt he would be basically all right. Navigation, however, was a more painstaking matter. It was actually quite interesting.
They reached the Isle of Mourne on the twenty-eighth day of Drakonis. A faint mist of green was emerging along the coastlines they passed, and Mourne was as green as any.
The population—all seven of them—no, eight with the baby—had seen the ship and its banner, and had trooped down to the shore to greet them.
"Be discreet," Anders muttered to his friends. Fergus had insisted on coming with them, curious about "those poor people."
They were careful enough not to walk about with anything that would look to the casual eye like a magical staff, though many of them used stout walking sticks to help them up and down the hilly terrain.
Maude wanted to see the baby and show her own off, so there was much silly cooing; but it seemed to ease the underlying tension.
"Let's have a look at this castle of yours," she said eagerly, enjoying even this small adventure.
A careful inspection, and they were able to put together notes about what was needed to repair the tower to the extent that people could actually live there without the roof caving in on them. Most of the crystals from the old lighthouse were still in place, though some were chipped and cracked.
While Fergus and Loghain did their measuring and planning and estimating, Maude took the others with her to the old Chantry, with her how-to books and her spinning wheel and churn and garden seeds. Loghain was not sure how that visit went, but Maude seemed pleased.
"They loved getting new books. Mages love books, and quite right too. Of course, Darrow told them how to raise sheep, which was useful supplemental information. I told them we'd get the tower repaired for them, so they could live there. If they had visitors, people might give them trouble about living in the Chantry, though I think it was very practical of them."
"We need to be getting on, Maude. Leave them to it. The goats certainly seem to be taking well to the island."
Of course goats had no trouble with the terrain, and complacently munched any thorny and unpromising vegetation in sight. They could be left almost to fend for themselves. The sheep would need the more sheltered meadows of the island's interior.
"I can't leave yet," Maude protested. "I still have to show Reet how to turn the heel of a sock. They've sort of figured out knitting, but completely backwards, so I have to fix that. Civilization needs socks."
They stayed overnight, in the end, sheltered by the fairly sound ground floor of the tiny castle. Anders and Morrigan, however, stayed with the mages at the Chantry.
"No doubt discussing super-secret mage lore," Maude whispered to Loghain, smiling at the thought. "I imagine Anders will tell them about wands; and they'll beg Morrigan to tell them about shape-shifting. Somehow I don't think that's something that can be taught overnight."
The arrival of the Wild Wyvern in Denerim Harbor was quite the event. Crowds gathered to see the notables coming down the gangplank from the sleek, strangely rigged vessel. The fluttering Grey Warden ensign had led some to expect visitors from foreign parts, but instead the onlookers were rewarded by the sight of Teyrn Cousland and his sister the Regent of Gwaren, both in magnificent dress. Best of all, there was the Dragonslayer and Hero and Ferelden, in the black—though some said purple— armor, made from the very hide of the defeated Archdemon. Behind them came a plain and placid nursemaid carrying a very small infant with very large, bright eyes. Following her was an elven lady's maid with an uncertain but hopeful expression and an armful of linen nappies. Three big mabaris trotted along, ready to protect their pack.
There were soldiers of Highever, and soldiers of Gwaren, and quite a few Grey Wardens, and a dozen Warden recruits from Gwaren and the nearby bannorns. The cheering went on for some time, while transportation was arranged.
"I'm going to Highever House," Fergus said, embracing Maude. "No doubt I've heaps of correspondence to attend to, but I'll see you tomorrow. Take care of my nephew."
"I probably will," Maude agreed.
They were loaded like baggage into the coaches, and they set off in their various directions. Maude insisted on taking the baby and held him up so the crowds could see him through the windows. The dogs milled about their feet, grinning through the windows, too.
"I take it you like Gareth," Loghain observed dryly.
"Yes, thank you very much," Maude replied, full of good cheer. "I like little Gareth heaps and heaps. Especially when he makes such adorably funny faces. Are you tired of Denerim so soon, Little Teyrn? I'm afraid we're in for quite the stay." She set the baby on her silken lap and lightly touched the tiny lower lip, changing her voice to its squeakiest register.
"Help me, Mummy! They're making me stay in icky Denerim!"
Mairead frowned. Clerys looked a little more anxious, if that were possible. Loghain growled and reached for his son, settling him gingerly in his own arms. "Don't do that! Leave him his dignity, at least!"
"He's eighteen days old, Loghain," Maude protested. "He doesn't know about dignity yet! He's still my sweet little popover, and so he shall be even after he learns to scowl like you!"
The Wardens' Compound was in perfect order, and well prepared against the arrival of its commander and his retinue. The housekeeper and maids giggled and cooed and sighed over the baby, but at length withdrew. Loghain and Maude were given the peace and comparative privacy of their own quarters, and Maude could order the baby and his nursemaids settled next door. No one was in the room, since Mistress Woolsey was ensconced at the Peak, with her records and her accounts and her nagging. There was plenty of room for the Wardens, and a surprisingly large pile of letters on the desk in the study, along with some parcels and crates.
Most of those parcels and crates were directed to His Grace Gareth MacTir, Teyrn of Gwaren. Word of his birth had got out, even to places that had not been sent Maude's formal announcements. They had received gifts from Gareth's own vassals while they were at the Keep there; but the Teyrn of Gwaren was worth cultivating, and there would be presents from all sorts of people.
"What's that?" Maude wondered, trailing in after him. "Ooo! It's got the seal of Redcliffe. I sent little Rowan a silver cup and spoon. They were very nice. I wonder if Eamon sent them right back to me for Gareth. But no…" She laughed. "An ivory and silver teething ring and religious amulet in one. Gareth can learn his Chant early. How gruesome." She poked through another gift. "This is nice. A complete set of Sister Caprice's Primers for the Young! I learned to read with my own set. Completely demolished them, I'm afraid... These are bound in red calfskin with silver corners. Very sturdy and very grand. Who sent these? Oh…Arl Wulffe and Arlessa Angharad. Very thoughtful. Angharad is all right. I'm sure she and Wulffe are very happy with their own little Derek. I wonder if we'll see her here in Denerim…"
Loghain sorted through the letters, letting Maude enjoy her baby-plunder until Clerys came in to inform her that Gareth thought it was tea-time.
"Don't open that until I come back!" Maude instructed Loghain, waving her hand distractedly at a squat parcel. "It's from Alistair!"
"Why?" grunted Loghain. "Will it explode?"
She came back with Gareth shortly, and curled up in a big chair with her gown undone, letting their little boy have a good feed.
"You may open it now," she allowed graciously. "It's not the official gift, I believe. Anora and Alistair will give us that together. This is something else. Let's see!"
Loghain got up rather grumpily and removed the canvas wrappings.
"Oh!" Maude burst out. "How adorable!"
It was, rather. It was a very small, low rocking horse, meant for a young toddler, whose feet would remain safely on the floor while galloping on his fearsome steed. It was superbly carved and brilliantly painted and had real leather reins and a padded saddle.
"I didn't know horses could be green," Loghain snarked.
"Don't be like that. Only bits of it are green, and it's enchanting. He went to some trouble to have that made."
"He gave a few orders."
"All right, but he did give them. And you know that Gareth will really and truly love this someday."
Loghain grunted again. Gareth probably would. It was yet another virtue to chalk up to his son-in-law's rather meager tally: Chantry Boy had good ideas about gifts for children. That reminded him— it had been some time since he had seen Rhoswyn. He quite looked forward to holding his granddaughter again.
It seemed like Their Majesties were eager to see them, too. They were invited to a private dinner, and the servant told them that "the young Teyrn" was invited as well.
"It won't cost Their Majesties much to feed him," Loghain sneered.
Princess Rhoswyn Theirin was a very pretty little girl. She certainly was worth dressing up, which was a good thing, since Anora had absolutely drenched her in embroidered silk and lace. She was cuddled on the Royal Nurse's lap, looking about her with some interest.
Loghain paused to admire her as they entered the Family Dining Room. She was able to sit up now, her little straight back achingly endearing. She had more hair too, than when last he saw her. It was a fluff of white gold, fine and soft as hackled flax. Her enormous blue eyes opened wide at the sight of him. At least he was no longer wearing armor, and thus was not quite the terror of small children he had been earlier in the day. The big blue eyes slipped over to Maude, who was wearing her most engaging smile and a brilliantly scarlet gown.
"Father." Anora looked very well in rich royal blue, and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. "Maude. You seem quite recovered. And so this is Gareth."
Maude held the little mite out for inspection, enormously pleased at the child she had made. "We all here and all wonderfully well, Anora."
"Let me see!" Alistair said, coming forward. To Loghain's irritation, he seemed to be in the process of growing a beard. It made him look faintly like a scruffy Teagan Guerrin, only without the great beak of a nose. The King stared at the baby, shaking his head. "It's so easy to forget how tiny they are when they're new. Whoa!" He backed away, a little wide-eyed. "He frowns just like you, Loghain!"
"Do you think so?" asked Anora, looking a little more closely. "He seems much like any other child to me. He may not keep the dark hair, after all. Is the nurse handy?"
The Royal Nurse was seated in a shadowed corner near the cradles, eyes modestly cast down. Loghain thought her a very pretty woman, and hoped that she knew how to hold her tongue. Loghain took the little princess from her, and enjoyed the sensation of baby-warmth. Rhoswyn was very like Anora at that age.
"Clerys is just behind us, with presents for all," Maude laughed. "I've got the nursemaids prepared for my absence. It all takes planning, since I'm suckling Gareth for the next month."
"Really?" asked Anora, without much interest. "To each his own, I suppose. How very odd, to have a new brother at this point in my life."
Maude gave Alistair a wink and whispered her thanks for the rocking-horse on a thread of breath. Alistair brightened, and put out his arms.
"Let me hold him a minute."
He seemed quite adept at holding babies, and immediately started making ridiculous faces. Gareth stared at him, rather appalled.
"Come on over here, Gareth," Alistair burbled, "and meet your niece! Isn't that fun? Yes, it is! Rhoswyn, this is Uncle Gareth. Look at his funny little face!"
Anora gazed after her husband, rather resigned. "Alistair is extremely fond of children. Everybody's children. He even had his half-sister's brood to visit on First Day. Five children! At least Lady Goldanna was properly grateful for the gifts."
"I've talked to my brother about the eldest...the one named Robin," Maude said lightly. "If it's all right with you, Alistair, he's willing to take him on as a squire after the Landsmeet. Here, Loghain, let me hold Rhoswyn a minute..."
He passed her on, and was amused that Maude somehow managed to make the little girl giggle almost instantly. Alistair was still making faces, so Maude repeated, "Alistair? Robin? Squire?"
"What?" Alistair asked, distracted from babyland. "Right. Fine. That's nice of Fergus. I think it'll do Robin good to leave the nest and see the world. He's a good boy. The tutor's smoothed off some of the rough edges."
"Yes," Anora agreed acidly. "He no longer picks his nose in our presence. It is such a blessing."
Clerys was peeking around the corner, arms full, rabbity little face terrified. Loghain gestured brusquely at her to come forward.
The gathering devolved into a lavish gift exchange. Gareth received a magnificent little chest of carved silkwood, mounted with gold fittings. In it were silver napkin pins and a small silver comb.
"And when he grows up," Alistair said cheerfully, "he can keep his razor in it!"
"Unless he follows the King's fashion," Maude laughed.
Alistair smirked and rubbed his scraggly stubble, vanity blooming like a great odoriferous rose. "Yes, well..."
Loghain briefly thought he would puke. He took Gareth back from Alistair, both men careful to avoid touching each other.
The baby's bright eyes squinted up at him, and the pink mouth granted him a crooked little smile. Loghain's heart clenched, and he held his son a little closer.
"And look what we have for you!" cried Maude "It's been such a busy time since last we met..."
"Yes," Anora murmured, glancing meaningfully at Loghain. "We have a great deal to talk about."
They certainly did, but first they enjoyed the gifts. Maude had found a gorgeous little necklace for Rhoswyn in Kirkwall: real coral beads from the distant Boeric Ocean. They were strung on unbreakable spider silk and fastened with a silverite clasp, so there was no danger of the baby ripping them off and swallowing them.
"Such a beautiful color," Anora approved. "A charmingly exotic gift."
"Well," Maude smirked, "It just so happens that I have another coral necklace, but for you, and so rather larger..."
So the gifts went down very well, and Alistair loved the clockwork monstrosity that Maude had commissioned the dwarves to make for him.
Gareth fussed a little, ready for a nap, and was given to Clerys to take back to the Compound. The Royal Nurse smiled on him kindly, tucking in a stray blanket corner. She, too, was dismissed; and gathered up her charge, carrying Rhoswyn away to the glories of her nursery.
And then, dinner was served.
One had to eat very carefully at Anora's table. She liked to surprise one in the middle of a swallow, to gauge one's reactions. Loghain knew her tricks, and was careful never to take large bites.
Maude, of course, handled it all with her usual aplomb. Nothing was said about the obnoxious letters that had greeted the announcement of her pregnancy. There are some words that even the Warden-Commander of Ferelden cannot say to the King and Queen, unless he is prepared to draw his sword to back them up.
But there was a great deal they could talk about. Maude gave a brief synopsis of her adventures in Kirkwall, with just the right seasoning of concern about the encroaching Qunari.
"There's certain to be a blow-up eventually," she said, voice rich with conviction. "It's clearly an aggressive move, as they have refused all offers of a ship to take them back to Qunari lands. The Viscount hasn't a clue what to do, and he was mad to let them into the city to begin with. A camp outside the walls would have been dangerous enough. Now, of course, they're well positioned to sack the city when the Arishok decides that's just what is needed to save the Kirkwallers from themselves. I met him. He's so disgusted by our filthy, disorganized ways that he's ready to explode."
Anora considered this. "At this point, I can't see any Ferelden lord doing as Viscount Dumar did. If the Qunari come, we will at least know not to let an armed force within our gates." She added, a little too blandly, "I have heard that both Fergus and Delilah have been strengthening their coastal fortifications. Something about the Wardens lending them money..."
"Maude!" Alistair said, eager for gossip. "Did you meet Bann Nathaniel Howe's fiancée when you were in Kirkwall?"
Anora made a face, her probing disrupted. Loghain kept his smile turned inward. Maude seized gleefully at the change of subject.
"Babette de Launcet? No, but I met her parents at one of the Viscount's dinners. The girls were off visiting relatives. I know of them by reputation, though," she added, with a naughty smile. "Is she here yet?"
"We met," Anora said coolly. "The Howes presented her to me. I do hope she will not find living in Ferelden too terrible a trial. Bann Nathaniel fetched her from Kirkwall himself. Perhaps she is missing her family. That would somewhat excuse her."
Loghain, thinking of every Orlesian noblewoman he had ever met, could picture the scene all too well. Maude asked, "Her mother isn't with her? Nobody traveled with her to Ferelden to see her married? That wasn't very kind of them."
"No one," Anora said. "Only her personal servants and a great deal of luggage."
"She's not bad looking," Alistair said, happily munching almonds, "though her accent could etch glass."
Loghain involuntarily snorted a laugh, and then remembered Arlessa Isolde. The boy had no reason to like a female Orlesian voice.
Alistair was rattling on about her. "Really, she sort of looks like a Howe already, with her dark hair. But Bann Nathaniel's made a good bargain, taking her on," he added. "The whole dowry goes to him once they're married— all but her personal clothes and jewels. A thousand sovereigns!"
"Really?" Maude said, playing with the exquisitely tender lamb on her plate. "That's wonderful for Nathaniel, but not so good for her, certainly. It sounds," she lowered her voice a little, "like a family paying to get rid of a black sheep by sending her out of the country. It's really odd that neither of her parents came "
Anora cleared her throat. "That's as may be." She rang an irritating little bell by her plate for the next course.
Bloody stupid affectation, thought Loghain. Can't she shout for a servant like everybody else?
They had other things to talk over, of course: Loghain could tell them that the Deep Roads under Amaranthine were largely cleared out, and the dwarves were rebuilding Kal'Hirol. Much of the Deep Roads under Gwaren looked safe as well, but those were only a fraction of the whole. The Grey Wardens continued to recruit.
"I sent Anders to the Circle Tower to get us some more mages. Apparently Greagoir is no longer in command. They've installed an Orlesian fellow..." Loghain's lips curled in distaste.
"—Ser Berengar de Malsange," Maude supplied, with quite a perfect Orlesian accent.
"Yes, him," Loghain sneered. "He gave the Wardens a hard time, and in the end Anders was only able to get a single mage, and that one who had been imprisoned in the dungeons for over a year. Apparently all the mages are locked in cells when they are not on some scheduled activity. The fellow had the gall to tell Anders not to show his face there again, since nobody would need Wardens for a few hundred years!"
Maude started talking, very smoothly and convincingly, before Alistair could bring up reasons why he thought mages should be locked up. "This would explain his impudence in refusing the Queen of Ferelden a Healer! He's made the Circle quite a prison, since he's angry that so many mages did their duty by fighting the Blight! The Templars seem to really dislike allowing the mages to look good. It's sad that there was no way to reward the mages for their loyal service, but for some Orlesian to lock up them up like criminals...well, I think that's entirely too cruel."
Loghain muttered, "It's not the first time the Orlesians have infiltrated by taking over the Circle."
Maude glanced at him sympathetically, and added, "—And it's outrageous that he would refuse a courtesy to the Crown!"
Anora agreed, at least with that last. "It was very badly done of them, certainly. If only we knew what has become of Wynne! Did you hear anything when you were in the Free Marches, Maude?"
"I know no more than you: that the meeting in Cumberland was broken up and all the mages taken into custody. I presume that Wynne was arrested along with all the others. She might have been kept at the Circle in Cumberland, or sent home to Ferelden, for all I know. I tried to make inquiries when I was in Kirkwall, since they have a Circle there, but they wouldn't tell me a thing. Short of breaking in and searching the place, there was no way to know if Wynne was imprisoned there or not. A wicked waste of a brilliant Healer. I hope that nobody's been rounding up the Healers already posted to Ferelden noble houses."
"So many disappeared during the Blight," Anora shook her head. "Some apparently fled in fear of the darkspawn, and others joined the army. I do understand that it's been hard for the Chantry to sort it all out, but it's not helpful to deprive people of the benefits of Healing. I've had some conversations with the Grand Cleric about it. She told me to be patient while they are reorganizing, and that we'll be back to the status quo pre- Blight in due course."
No one at the table believed that, of course, and there was a brief silence, broken only when Alistair said, "Lady Habren is due next month. She's upset about not having a mage Healer. Teagan says she's all right, but she's staying in Rainesfere. I don't think she likes it, but Teagan doesn't think she's fit to travel overland in a wagon."
"Probably not," Anora said briskly. "Father, Warden Anders is with you, I trust?"
"Of course. Would you like him to have a look at Rhoswyn?"
"That would be very nice. Such a pleasant man."
The talk drifted on to other topics, including the progress of the university and the remarkable group of scholars who had gathered there. Anora and Maude talked about it in sweet, high-minded fashion.
Loghain let the intellectual discussion wash over him, reminding himself to say nothing at all about the money given them by the First Warden, nor about the letter from the Warden claiming to be Alistair's mother. He did not wish to bring up the apparent resurrection of Flemeth, nor would he discuss the interesting intelligence he had been gathering from the other Wardens. Above all, no mention was made of their theft of the formula for Qunari black powder.
Instead, when the women were done with their infernal chatter about the National Library, he brought up the trip to Highever, and added more detail about the birth of Fergus and Cauthrien's son, which interested Anora. It had been a banner year for children among the nobility.
Alistair grinned. "Arlessa Angharad and her little boy Derek have arrived in Denerim with Arl Wulffe. He's over the moon, as you can imagine. I think Derek's going to be a ginger."
"I got her letter, and sent them a present. I'm very happy for them," said Maude. She poked at a pink and quivering pudding set before her. "Oh, is that a blancmange? What fun! I haven't had any in ages. Ours in Highever were always white. Anyway, red hair runs in the Wulffe family, so it's all good."
Loghain asked, "Has anyone seen little Rowan Guerrin yet?"
Alistair sighed, and his handsome face was suddenly miserable.
"No, Father," Anora told him. "I was godmother, but by proxy. Arl Eamon left the child in Redcliffe, cared for by trusted nurses. He's afraid to risk her on the roads, and I suppose I see his point. It's a long, hard journey from Redcliffe to Denerim."
Another brief silence, as everyone at the table recalled just how hard and long that particular journey could be.
Alistair gathered his spirits enough to say to Maude, "I didn't expect to see you, but then you showed up in your fancy new ship. It must be fun," he added, a little wistfully.
"It is fun," Maude said, eyes holding Alistair's, while her voice vibrated in that damnably convincing way. "You should have a ship. A Royal ship. You could go up and down the coasts and inspect defenses and visit people. And sometimes sail just for the fun of it."
Loghain grimaced and shrugged. If Chantry Boy wished to end up like Maric, Loghain would certainly not spend two years looking for him. The King had done his duty, and Ferelden had an heir. Alistair caught Loghain's dour expression, and his eyes gleamed with unholy joy.
"On the ship...were you…" he said hopefully. "…seasick?"
"No, I was not seasick!' Loghain shot back rather testily. "It is… interesting, and has its uses, but it is not a diversion I would seek out for its own sake."
Maude winked at Alistair. "Fergus is having a new ship built. He'll be glad to tell you about it. He wants to be able to check on things in the islands. We've been sailing amongst them and saw some pretty amazing sights. Fergus thinks there should be a comprehensive expedition to assess their population, condition, and defenses come this summer."
"And I completely agree with him," Loghain supported her. "Those islands off Amaranthine could be key to our coastal defenses, as well as an excellent place to settle loyal people. We found some refugees living on Mourne, for that matter. Very decent people. They're quite able and willing to man the old lighthouse there, if the Crown will rebuild the tower."
Anora's face tightened at the thought of spending money. "Mourne? That has an old ruined castle on it, I believe..."
"They call it a castle," Maude said confidently, "but it's just a bare tower. It wouldn't take much to put it in order. Fergus gave the refugees some sheep and some supplies. After all, if there are decent people settled there, then it's less likely that the place will be used by pirates for a base."
"How was Cauthrien?" Anora asked Loghain, changing the subject.
"Very well and happy. Anders saw another child safely into the world, and Cauthrien bore it all, one can only say, like a soldier. Caradoc is a fine boy—"
Maude laughed. "—with a healthy pair of lungs!"
"I guess it was strange," Alistair ventured, his face concerned, "to see Highever again after so long."
Maude gave him a quick, melancholy look: the sort that roused the sympathies of soft-headed fools like Chantry Boy. She said, "So much has changed. I hardly recognized the town, with the Alienage gone. Fergus and Cauthrien have worked so hard. It's amazing what they've accomplished in such a short time. They were talking about how much they would like a Royal Visit this summer. It would mean a lot to them— and to all the people in the North."
Anora's face smoothed. Apparently she found the idea agreeable. "Perhaps it would be...appropriate. After Summersday, of course."
"And we hope you will visit the Peak, as well," Loghain said instantly. "Vigil's Keep, Amaranthine, Breaker's Cove, Soldier's Peak, Highever, West Hill, Waking Sea bannorn: you should see them all. And they should see you...and Rhoswyn."
"Wear your crowns," Maude suggested, enjoying her blancmange. "People like crowns."
"Your Graces! My lords, ladies, and gentlemen! On this first day of Eluviesta, the thirty-third year of the Dragon Age, the three hundred and ninety-first from the founding of the kingdom, by command of Their Majesties, King Alistair and Queen Anora, I declare this Landsmeet in session!"
Anora and Alistair were wearing their crowns today, and looked quite nice in them. Everyone looked rather nice. Most nobles dressed to impress on the very first day of the Landsmeet. After that, greed and disappointment, rich food and strong liquor, too much whispering and too much shouting...all of them took a certain toll. By the end of the Landsmeet fine clothes were sweaty and rank, and tempers short.
Maude was already exasperated by her body's refusal to fit perfectly into the new gown she wanted to wear. Clerys had quickly altered it, ruthlessly ripping open seams and loosening laces. Once the work was done, Loghain thought Maude looked quite beautiful.
"I look strange," she disagreed in a whisper. "I stick out in strange places. I'll have to exercise more."
Loghain smirked. "I like the way you stick out. It's very—"
He broke off, Alistair was well into his speech, talking about the Defense of Their Beloved Ferelden. Loghain felt his ears prick up like a mabari's. Chantry Boy was practically quoting him verbatim.
"... the islands of the Amaranthine Archipelago, and a comprehensive expedition to assess their population, condition, and defenses come this summer. These islands could be the key to our coastal defenses, as well as an excellent site to settle our surplus population. A loyal and industrious citizenry is the best bar to seizure of the islands by pirates and marauders..."
Fergus, surprised and pleased, caught Loghain's eye and gave him a grin and a thumbs up. Loghain nodded back, rather sourly.
Obviously Anora had agreed with what he had said over dinner. Why couldn't she just say so? But noooooooo... She must always resort to intrigue and subterfuge, and make everything more complicated than it needed to be. Right now Anora was conscientiously gazing on Alistair in admiring rapture. Loghain found it rather repulsive. Still, it was a good show of royal solidarity.
"...part of a Royal Progress after Summersday that will inspect the northern reaches of our land..."
Maude nudged him, looked as pleased as her brother. No, she was pleased, but distracted by something. She was edging away, looking over at a group of banns who had some papers in their hands.
"...behooves us to be wary of foreign agents and adventurers, who look ever for weaknesses, and seek to create disunity and dissension..."
Loghain looked, too. Bann Perrin and Bann Tolliver were studying the papers, their eyes glittering with odd, rather gleeful expressions; as if they had been caught with filthy pictures, or found out something that frightened and excited them at the same time.
Eamon and Teagan were standing on the other side of the room—on the King's side, actually. Loghain expected to see Byland with them, but Maude was whispering in her cousin's ear, making him smile. Good move. Gwaren had as much or more to offer South Reach as Redcliffe did.
A little further on Loghain saw the Howes: the brother and sister in rich but sober garments. With them was a dark-haired young woman, whose gaudy clothing made her resemble an expensive tart.
Both kinds.
"...and the need to make use of all weapons and powers available to us, just as we did to achieve our victory over the Blight..."
The Grand Cleric was frowning. Next to her was a beefy man with burning black eyes and a well-oiled beard. By the Maker! That was that Orlesian bastard, come to spy on the Landsmeet! The Templar's eyes met his own. Loghain gave him stare for stare, until the Orlesian sneered and looked away.
The speech concluded to cheers and applause. Loghain added his own approval to everyone else's, while he swept the room with his gaze. Wait. He looked again. Eamon was very angry, but he seemed to be angry about something other than the King's Speech. Teagan appeared tense and unhappy, and he was crumpling something in his hand. The shape of the paper was exactly the same as those Loghain had seen Perrin and Tolliver holding. Some sort of broadsheet?
No time to investigate, Fergus Cousland was up next, and then Loghain and Maude would have to speak about northern defenses. That would pull in Delilah and Nathaniel. Where the hell was Bann Frandarel? He had never responded to Loghain's letters about improving the old fortress of West Hill. Alfstanna was here, fortunately, and she would know what was going on in the far west.
Most people liked Fergus quite well, and they applauded his announcement about the heir to Highever very kindly. He talked about the number of refugees retrieved from Kirkwall and about the state of Highever defenses and the volume of trade coming through the port. He seconded the King's suggestions about the Amaranthine Archipelago, regretting that so many had fled abroad rather than to the security of islands that were Fereldan soil.
Maude supported him, of course. She took her place in the speaker's gallery, eliciting another round of applause for the birth of the new Teyrn of Gwaren. Loghain permitted himself a smile. People were looking at him, and really, he was very pleased about it all.
Then his ruthless young wife made use of all her charm and persuasion to tell the Landsmeet of the Qunari threat to Kirkwall and what it might portend for Ferelden. There were no Qunari supporters in the Landsmeet, and so no built-in resistance to her words. The only person who disliked the criticism of Viscount Dumar was Mademoiselle de Lancet, who made faces at first, and then fell under Maude's spell like everyone else.
For that matter, the Chantry was solidly behind Maude— on this issue anyway. The Grand Cleric raised the point that the continued Qunari presence in Kirkwall might well be considered a breach of the Llomeryn Accord, which had put an end to the Exalted March against the Qunari. Maude smiled brilliantly at the the old priest
"I thank Your Grace for your wise words. The good friend of my dear mother, as usual, has penetrated to the heart of the matter. If the Qunari do indeed intend to make war on Thedas once more, what cleverer way to begin than with ambiguity— presenting themselves as hapless, harmless, shipwrecked mariners? They take care not to breach the Accord outright. Instead, they insist that it is all an accident... that they have no hostile intent; and thus slowly accustom their victims to their presence, convincing them that it is normal and innocuous— the new and perfectly acceptable order of things. In this way, an entire cohort of Qunari, under the command of an Arishok, has insinuated its way into the heart of a great city. Tensions continue to rise. Inevitably, there will be an incident...something that the Qunari can claim as a pretext, and then, as they sack the city of Kirkwall, they will declare that they are simply defending themselves!"
The spectators, ensorcelled, murmured agreement amongst themselves. Maude pressed on relentlessly.
"Yes, Kirkwall is on the other side of the Waking Sea, but remember that Kirkwall is closer to Highever than Highever is to Amaranthine! Closer to the fortress of West Hill than West Hill is to Highever! If the Qunari menace is creeping toward us, let us look to the islands of the Waking Sea and to the Amaranthine Archipelago! Let us secure these islands, and guard against the possibility that while we feast here in Denerim, reveling in friendship and unity, a foreign power may be gathering a power in secret, based on those very islands, which it can unleash against us!"
There was quite a hush. Even those smirking young noblemen were listening.
"Forewarned as we are, there is much we can do. My brother the Teyrn has already told you of some of the plans afoot. Just as in the Blight, our united strength is the key to victory. And just as in the Blight. we have a weapon that has proved its worth. Magic." She raised her voice over the wondering murmurs, quoting the Chant of Light.
"'Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.' Taking this text as her strategy, Her Perfection, the Divine Hortensia III, gave command for the mages of Thedas to go to war against the Qunari. Thus is was that the third Exalted March, the one under her leadership, did in Storm 7:84 achieve the deliverance of Thedas. Qunari cannons were no match for our well-trained mages!"
Teagan called out, "Don't the Qunari have mages of their own?"
"They do, Bann Teagan!" Maude acknowledged. "I have seen them: collared, chained, mouths sewn shut, horns sawed off. They are leashed like pets and housed like beasts. How different—how very different from the enlightened treatment our own mages are afforded: protected, educated, trained, and made thoroughly aware how great a burden of responsibility they must shoulder. We saw in the Blight what a mighty weapon for good they were." A dramatic pause. "'Magic exists to serve man.' Indeed it does, and what nobler service can it render than the defense of country and Chantry?"
She descended, to great applause. Loghain was in awe of the scale of her deceit. She had now set the groundwork for levering at least a few mages out of the Templars' clutches. Ser Berengar was frowning a little, shaking his head as if to clear it. The Grand Cleric, on the other hand, was smiling in maternal pride. Loghain snorted. Maude had the old woman hoodwinked, for the moment anyway, though he was not sure the mages would be sent to war if the invader was not the Qunari, but Orlais.
"Look here, Loghain!" Arl Wulffe called out, when the applause died down. "Where do the Grey Wardens stand in all this? I thought they weren't supposed to involve themselves in politics, or make war against anything but the darkspawn!"
Loghain was ready for that one. "The Qunari have refused to sign any treaties with the Grey Wardens. They do not recognize our mission, the independence of the order, or the Right of Conscription. The Qunaris attacked Warden posts during the first Qunari invasion, and they did not assist in fighting against the recent Blight." He raised his hand, to forestall contradiction. "One wandering Qunari fought in the Battle of Denerim on his own initiative, and he now appears to have been an agent sent to scout out Ferelden and see the Blight for himself. I know of no others. The large numbers of Qunari mercenaries previously in Ferelden made a hasty departure as the darkspawn advanced."
"' If you wish for peace, prepare for war,'" quoted Leonas Bryland. "It does seem that we need to be on the alert." There were sage nods of agreement.
A council was appointed to study the matter further and push ahead with the coastal improvements already discussed: Fergus, Loghain, Maude, and Banns Nathaniel and Alfstanna. Fergus mentioned setting up a watchtower and lighthouse on the Isle of Mourne, as an additional protection for the city of Denerim. He told of finding a small group of refugees living there, whom he thought would do the job very well with a minimum of expense. He put forward their leader, Petronilla Flyte, for the office of Lighthousekeeper of Mourne. With royal assent, money was set aside for the repair of Castle Mourne and for regular supplies for the lighthousekeeper and her staff.
Loghain allowed no change of expression as her heard Petra's new name introduced before the great of Ferelden. He would just as soon have done this privately, but Fergus wanted to make an example of these refugees, whom he had taken under his wing. At least if people saw lights in the tower, they would know they were there with the approval of the Crown.
More personal announcements followed: the birth of yet more children...Eamon's and Wulffe's, and a half-dozen banns' sons and daughters. Weddings were inevitably announced as well. The first to stand forth was Nathaniel Howe.
"Lords and Ladies of the Landsmeet! I invite you all to attend my marriage to the noble Mademoiselle de Launcet, It is to be held at the Cathedral in three days' time, and I ask that you wish me joy there and at the feast that will follow, to be held in the Howe mansion."
Maude applauded enthusiastically, wanting to support her old friends. Fergus was far more restrained, but behaved properly. The bride-to-be preened before them all, her shrill, nervous giggle rising to the roof of the Landsmeet Chamber. Loghain hated that giggle. This female might prove even more insufferable than Habren Bryland. He never would have thought it possible.
They were adjourned until tomorrow. There was pleasant talk here and there, and a number of people rushed off to enjoy a midday meal before the exertions of dressing for tonight's feast. Loghain was quite pleased at how smoothly the first session had gone, and headed back to the Compound. Maude was called over to talk to someone.
"I'll be there presently," she said, waving him on. "Save some bacon rolls for me!"
A mob crowded the table in the Wardens' Hall, already eating everything in sight. Only Anders had bothered to slip into the Landsmeet, and he was quite pleased with Maude's initial attempt to chip away at Ser Berengar's tyranny.
"Horrible man," Loghain agreed, intent on his meal. Time passed, and Maude failed to make an appearance. Loghain presumed that she had gone to feed Gareth. Dutifully, he had the housekeeper rescue a plate of her favorite treats from the ravening maws of the other Wardens.
He thought of doing a bit of work in the study, and had just sat down to it, when Maude stormed in, Gareth at her breast, waving a wad of papers with her free hand. She threw them onto the desk in front of him.
"This is what the lads were looking at," Maude said, unusually serious. "I thought the Landsmeet was going well, right up to the time I saw these. Teagan and Eamon have seen them, too. We have a few hours before the feast. I sent word to Anora that we've got to talk to them."
Loghain unfolded the cheap paper, saw the woodcut of Alistair, read the first few lines, and froze. "Where did you get this?"
"Captain Kylon and I are old friends. He passed them on to me at the end of the Landsmeet. He says the Market District was papered with these things this morning. Someone was busy before dawn. There are some at the Docks and along Gate Street, too. They must not have made it across the river before the sun was up. I told Kylon to have his men take them all down and bring them here."
Loghain swallowed, and then read the crude broadsheet again.
THE FIRST TRUMPET BLAST AGAINST THE MONSTROUS RULE OF THE USURPER!
MUST FERELDEN ENDURE A FRAUD AND BASTARD ON THE THRONE?
Can "King" Alistair prove he was born in Ferelden? He claims to be the son of our beloved King Maric and a Redcliffe serving maid, but Chantry rolls at Redcliffe show no record of his birth! Challenge the pretender, and demand proof of his Ferelden blood!
Fact: King Maric never acknowledged any bastard in the course of his rule!
Fact: There is no written evidence that "King" Alistair is the son of Maric!
Fact: "King" Alistair did indeed live in Redcliffe, but was stableboy to Arl Eamon!
Did the Arl of Redcliffe, now Chancellor of the Realm, make use for his own ends of a Nameless Bastard who bore a slight resemblance to our beloved King Maric?
FERELDEN PATRIOTS! RISE UP AGAINST THIS INSULT TO OUR NATION!
"It's clever," Maude observed, "Quite clever, if the whole purpose is to make trouble. I totally wish I had done something like this back in the days when I was going round and round with you."
Loghain, in his blood-shot mind's eye, saw the entire nation of Ferelden exploding in a red blaze of civil war. Again. "This has to be stopped. Right now."
"I know. I told Kylon to track down the print shop that put these out. Type, paper stock—look here, somebody had to do that woodcut. The printer community is small. Somebody's going to recognize this work. We have to show them to Alistair, right now. Probably a lot of people didn't see them this morning, but by tonight everybody will have. Too bad the perpetrator already checked out the Redcliffe Chantry. We might have to find some other place for Alistair to have been born. Weisshaupt won't do, obviously."
Thank you, my reviewers: karinfan123, Jenna53, graydevilforever, Evil Elven Ice Queen, MsBarrows, Phygmalion, Zute, tgcgoddess, Judy, Josie Lange, TsuDohNimh, Kira Kyuu, Enaid Aderyn, riverdaleswhiteflash, JackOfBladesX, Anime-StarWars-fan-zach, Ellyanah, mille libri, Shakespira, agissa, cloud1004, Tyanilth, and PestoMonkey,
I realized that the term "hackling" might not be at all familiar, esp since DAO canon contains nothing about spinning, weaving, sewing, or any other process involved in the production of clothing. In preparing flax for spinning, flax is pulled through various sized hackling combs to remove the straw and split and polish the fibers. It's one of the world-building things that really has bugged me lately. In a traditional, medieval society, people are busy with textile production all the time. However, nobody in Thedas owns a spinning wheel or even a drop spindle. Nobody has a loom or a sewing box. There are lots of other processes involved, too, with all sorts of necessary equipment. Most women and girls should be spinning whenever they're not doing anything else. Even women from the elite classes would be engaged in this to some extent.
For example, when Hawke and Bethany/Carver are finally free of their indenture and have some silver, the first thing Leandra should be doing is to get some decent fabric and make herself a gown suitable for a visit to the Viscount. She could be making sheets and shirts for her children. Simply saying that she was raised noble is insufficient. She was married to Malcolm Hawke for about twenty years, and would undoubtedly have done heaps of sewing (and probably spinning and weaving as well, as we also never see a textile factory, which of course would hardly fit in with the world of England 1200 AD anyway).