The Keening Blade

Chapter 49: Very Junior Wardens

As soon as his finished his chaotic breakfast, Loghain was thrilled to escape the Varric mansion and the noise within it. Everyone, including the dogs, seemed to have gone mad, trying to think of ways to entertain the children. Even—his indomitable spirit quailed briefly—shopping with Maude was better than a day with traumatized little mages, acting out because they felt themselves safe for the first time in—well, ever. Luckily the mansion Varric had lent them was big.

He certainly did not begrudge spending coin on the children. He would take in the sights while Maude made the purchases, and paid enough, the merchants would deliver the goods to the mansion.

How pleasant that he was Warden-Commander and could detail others to child-care duty. Wynne and Zevran were left behind to watch the little ones, but they were not alone. Thanyra, still uncomfortable with the size and stoniness of Kirkwall, had volunteered to remain; and Osbeck, Darrow, Kain, Oghren, and Hereward would take turns at guard duty, in between slipping off to the Blooming Rose for a bit of civilized entertainment.

So Loghain, guided by Varric and Hawke, would have the company of Maude, Bethany, Ambrose, and Valentine as they toured the city. Ranger and Topaz joined the glad throng, too, happy at the prospect of a long walk and the opportunity to terrorize the alley curs that Kirkwall miscalled by the noble name of "dog." They got on quite well with Hawke's mabari Hunter, of course. The adventures in the Warden prison had been a bonding experience for them.

"Where's Isabela?" Maude asked Hawke. "Too early for her?"

Hawke had an annoyingly pleasant laugh. Loghain's lips thinned.

"There is that," answered the handsome young man. "And she had errands of her own today. She's following up a lead on a lost relic she's interested in."

"Ooo! A relic? What kind?"

"That, Princess," said Varric, "is what we'd all like to know. It's important, and Isabela's pissed off at losing it, but other than that, it's a mystery."

First on the agenda was the Chantry, looming up, very tall and grand in the morning sun. Impressive double staircases led up to the entrance. Loghain felt he should at least put his head in the door, so he could describe it later.

Inside was the familiar head-splitting reek of incense, but the interior was far more splendid than Denerim Cathedral's, with an immense gilded statue of Andraste, her upturned head wreathed in flames of hammered gold. Well…yes… It was very, very big, and very impressive, he supposed. The statue would not have fit into Denerim Cathedral without cutting Andraste off at the knees, which would, he supposed, be impious. Candles were everywhere, lighting everything in a brilliant golden glow, which reflected off yet more gilded statues. The Chantry was unsurprisingly full of priests. Ethereal voices intoned the chant, far above their heads.

"That's the choir loft," Maude pointed. "Come on, let's have a look."

"I don't think—" Valentine murmured, and then stopped, intimidated by Maude's raised brows. "At least the dogs…I mean…oh, all right."

Short staircases ran up and down on either side of the chancel. Back and to the side were stairs that led up to the upper floors and the choir loft. Maude trotted along, dogs sniffing beside her, peering here and there into the priests' private quarters and the sacristies where some of the holy regalia were stored. Loghain took Maude's hand: an affectionate gesture than prevented any pilfering.

They passed behind the choir: over thirty men, women, and children, led by an older priest who was making signs to direct the singers. The choir ignored the intruders, intent on the Chant of Light. Loghain admired the discipline inherent in this kind of singing. It was really quite beautiful, and far less haphazard than some of the music he had heard in Denerim Cathedral.

Varric peered over the rail and motioned Maude closer, grinning.

"Down there," the dwarf said. "Talking with the Grand Cleric. That's Sebastian Vael, Prince of Starkhaven, and a nice little choirboy he is."

Loghain took a look, and smirked. White armor? Really? It would certainly take some effort to keep clean. So this was the rightful prince of the city from which Wynne had escaped. Why was he here, playing holy man, when his countrymen were suffering?

The Grand Cleric turned away, and the prince looked up, recognizing Hawke. He smiled, and descended the steps of the chancel, obviously intending to join them.

"Hawke's in Choirboy's good books right now," Varric confided to Maude. "He slaughtered the Flint Company—the mercenaries who murdered his family—and then killed Lady Harriman, who paid for it."

"A vengeful Choirboy," Maude observed thoughtfully.

Varric snorted, unamused. "Only if it's his own quarrel. You should hear him preach to the rest of us about forgiveness."

In a moment, the very handsome young man in perfectly ridiculous white armor was being introduced to them by Hawke: clearly, the two were good friends.

"Allow me to present to you Sebastian Vael, Prince of Starkhaven. Sebastian, this is Maude Cousland Mac Tir, Regent of Gwaren, and—" his voice deepened to an absolutely thrilling thrum "—Loghain Mac Tir, Commander of the Grey in Ferelden!"

The newcomer's extraordinarily bright blue eyes opened wide in awe. "The Loghain? The Hero of Ferelden and Slayer of the Archdemon? My lord, what an honor!"

Maude smiled quietly, eyes on the floor, clearly working on restraining her laughter. Loghain groaned inwardly.

Another fan. Joy. I hope he's not as silly about it as Valentine.

Sebastian attached himself to their party at once, and began showing every bloody boring bit of the Chantry to them.

"Have you met Her Grace?" Sebastian asked with puppy-like eagerness. "Oh...she is in a meeting this morning, but you must meet her, she is the holiest, the purest..." Words failed him at the wonder of Elthina.

"I have met Her Grace," Maude told him, gently encouraging him, "Perhaps we will have the opportunity later. We really must get on to the rest of our errands now."

"I'll come with you!"

Maude winked at Loghain, and looked at Sebastian as if nothing could be more delightful. It was a fine day, and they strode quickly past the handsome façades of Hightown, and in front of the long and impressive entryway to the Viscount's Keep.

"You have met Viscount Dumar, I daresay," said Sebastian.

"I have," Loghain replied grimly. Sebastian was not entirely a fool, and comprehended some of Loghain's disapproval from those two words.

"There is indeed great disorder in the city," Sebastian agreed. "Much crime and cruelty. The Viscount seems overwhelmed. If it were not for Hawke and his friends, things would be far worse."

Maude smiled at him. "That's only too obvious!"

Loghain grunted. A properly-run city should not require independent vigilantes to keep order. Hawke no doubt did more good than harm, but it should all be regularized and official... The Viscount was a fool not to recognize the young man with some sort of proper title and clearly defined functions. They descended more stairs and found themselves in the Hightown market.

"Oh!" cried Maude, "A clothing shop! I must see what I can find for those poor children!"

Sebastian paused, big blue eyes traveling to Maude in tender approval. "Your lady is charitable!"

"Very," Loghain said dryly. "She loves giving presents. We shall be here for some time."

"No problem," Hawke said cheerfully. "I need to talk to a business partner of mine." He and Varric moved off, while everyone else admired the luxury items in the arcades and booths. Sebastian, however, remained, blue eyes fixed on Loghain.

Wynne's story was much on Loghain's mind, and he felt there was no reason to coddle this young fool.

"So you're the Prince of Starkhaven," he said grimly. "I hear your city is also suffering hard times lately."

Sebastian's guileless blue eyes filled with regret.

"I pray every day for the city of my birth. My cousin, Goran Vael, reigns there, but does not rule. He is a feeble lad, troubled with wind. No match for the noblemen of his court. Wolves, I call them."

"No doubt a shepherd find wolves annoying, too; but it is still his duty to protect the sheep. Aren't you the rightful heir?"

Sebastian was annoyingly modest about it all. "Only by default, and after grievous slaughter. I'm the youngest of three. My parents put me in the Chantry to prevent my competing with my brothers. It's a tradition of the Vaels."

"However," Loghain pointed out, "with your brothers gone, the rights and responsibilities of Starkhaven fall to you, do they not?"

The young prince shook his head. "It's not so simple as that. I used to be bitterly jealous of my eldest brother. I wanted to be prince. Now he lies in ashes, and all he had could be mine. I keep asking myself, 'Do I want this because it's right, or simply to have what I never thought I could?'"

A doubter. Loghain was painfully, exasperatingly reminded of Maric, with his everlasting doubts and self-deprecation and navel-gazing.

"You could be a just and fair ruler, which is more than the people have now, by your own words."

Sebastian was not convinced. "It cannot be right to march on Starkhaven with such doubt in my heart. In trying to retake Stakhaven, I've already caused the death of so many: the killers themselves and Lady Harriman, who hired them. Could I ever do enough good as prince to justify that?" He brooded, the fine-boned face so earnest that Loghain wanted to thump him. "What difference does it really make, who rules in Starkhaven? Someone will take the reins. The crops will be planted and gathered. No one will notice that a Vael lives and isn't there. And I can devote my life to the Maker's will on Thedas. In the end, it is all in the Maker's hands."

Loghain grimaced and looked at the sky. "Let me see if I understand you: if you were out at night, and saw thugs robbing and raping a woman, you would not interfere, and simply leave it in the Maker's hands."

The handsome face flushed. "Of course not!"

"Yet you permit your homeland to be robbed and raped, and concern yourself only with your own thoughts and feelings. It seems to me much the same thing, only on a larger scale." Loghain paused, and said, "I knew a prince once who also did not want to rule. He doubted himself and doubted if his cause was worth all the attendant suffering. Yet Maric did his duty to his people and saved them from tyranny."

"Why would I want to rule Starkhaven and deal with jackals like Lady Harimann for the rest of my life?"

"So once again it's all about you? What's right for your people?"

Sebastian had some scruples after all: he looked genuinely distressed.

"I cannot return to Starkhaven without a clear sign that it is the will of the Maker."

Loghain lifted a brow and stared at him. Sebastian flushed red.

"What sort of...sign?" Loghain asked coldly. "Do you expect a personal invitation from the Maker?"

"I never said—"

Maude returned, with a sunny smile. "That's done! I can't do much about boots for their poor little feet on short notice, but at least they'll have clothes on their backs." She turned to Sebastian. "They were starving and in rags, after all their horrible sufferings when they fled from Starkhaven."

Sebastian blushed again. Loghain smirked, and raised the other brow.

Maude arranged for her orders to be delivered to the mansion. Then she spotted a booth that sold prepared chocolate and nonsensical sweetmeats: sugarplums and comfits and Antivan Delight. It was all insanely expensive, and done up in gauzy bags and silly painted boxes sealed with wax. Maude made heavy purchases there.

"It keeps so well. I'll take a box for Fergus and Cauthrien and another for Alistair and Anora. Among others."

They moved lower, and crossed a long bridge that led them to Lowtown and the market there. This was not so glamorous. Maude and Bethany dug through old books and then through old clothes, while Varric and Hawke kept up a running commentary about events in the city.

"My sources tell me," Varric said, "that the Viscount's boy has gone off the rails again."

"Saemus," Hawke sighed. "Is the Qunari? Or some other new fad?"

"Oh, it's the Qunari again. Word is that he's gone to live in the Qunari compound as…what do you call it? There's a long Qunari word for it, but it means convert, and you can imagine how that's gone down."

Hawke supplied the word. "Viddathari."

"Surely the Maker will open his eyes," Sebastian said earnestly. "For the Viscount's own son to reject the true faith…" The young man paused, apparently finding the concept beyond words.

"Oh, it will definitely be one more reason for the Chantry to move toward deposing Dumar," Varric agreed. "He's their man, but he's never been quite enough their man to suit them."

Sebastian was scandalized. "The Grand Cleric does not interfere in secular affairs."

"She may not," Hawke pointed out, "but the Templars certainly do."

Bethany looked up from her pile of books, and agreed with her brother. "Knight-Commander Meredith killed the last Viscount, and appointed Marlowe Dumar in his place. I think that definitely counts as 'interference.'"

Sebastian's face took on a hunted look, and he admitted, "Even many of the Templars feel that the Knight-Commander has exceeded her authority."

"There now," Maude said sweetly. "We're all in agreement. I like that. The Grand Cleric is very nice. I'm sure she'd never plot anybody's murder."

Somewhat mollified, Sebastian moved closer to Maude, thinking to find a kindred spirit there. "The Grand Cleric labors constantly to achieve a balance between the mages and the Templars in this city."

"Hmmm," Maude thought about that. "I suppose the thing to do, then, is to lock up the Templars in the Circle, too. That might balance them a bit."

Sebastian moved away again.

A small, shabby booth sold oddments that included children's toys, mostly carved from wood: wheeled wooden horses and cup-and-balls, jointed dolls and wooden-handled skipping ropes. Maude had to buy things there, too.

"And we have to stop at Lirene's," Maude informed him. "It's Fereldan headquarters in this city."

Loghain remembered her mentioning the shop of a Fereldan woman, and had imagined another shabby booth. Lirene's was not like that.

It was a great deal more than just a shop. It was a pair of large drafty rooms that served as shop, meeting place, dispenser of charity, and clearinghouse of information for the expatriate Fereldans. It was where they could hear of employment or cheap housing; where they could arrange for an apostate to heal their sick, and where they could sell the little items they could spare or craft themselves to raise a few coins. Lirene and her assistants lived here themselves, along with whatever charity cases were most dire at the moment. Looking at the place depressed Loghain profoundly. He immediately put ten sovereigns in the collection box.

Over the past year or so, some refugees had paid their fares to return home; more had indentured themselves to various Ferelden lords. Those remaining in Kirkwall must be the poorest of the poor, or those whose family situation or lack of skills made them uninteresting to the scouts arranging indentures. Many more might have nothing to return to, anyway: homes destroyed and family dead in the Blight. Maude had allowed a few dozen to return with her on her first journey. What hope was there in Kirkwall for these poor, lost souls?

And then he was recognized, and it was all a blur. Loghain heard the pleas and plaints, told Lirene briskly of free places for ten in his ship for those who could be ready by the following day, and shoved his way out, conscience flayed and bleeding.

They walked down to the docks, which gave him time to clear his head. The Wild Wyvern was berthed in the eastern docks, and everything seemed well in order for them to leave when they pleased. Loghain suggested the following day, but it all was somewhat uncertain, depending on his conversation this evening with the Viscount. The captain was told to be vigilant: the crew could enjoy their liberty tonight, but beginning tomorrow morning everything must be in a state of readiness.

"And keep watch on your ship, Princess!" laughed Varric. "Isabela would kill for it!"

"Why hasn't she found a new one?" Maude asked. "Everyone got quite a haul from the Deep Roads."

"Not quite enough for the kind of ship she wants," Varric said, "or at least it wasn't after the first few weeks, which were pretty heady. Also," he lowered his voice, looking at Hawke, who was in conversation with Ambrose and Bethany, "she's not eager to leave Kirkwall for a long voyage at the moment."

Maude smiled. "So it would seem!"

"And besides," Varric added more practically. "There's this relic she's obsessed with. That really does seem to be the first priority."

The scent of the sea grew stronger, and the cries of seabirds rose up, shrill and keening. The street went downhill and the scene enlarged. A cool sea breeze met them face-to-face, ruffling their hair. Masts rose above some low-lying warehouses. Loghain studied the area, now with the eye of a soldier rather than that of a tourist.

"Show me the Qunari compound," he said.

It was set off from the main street in the Dockside district, behind a cliff of sandstone and stucco buildings. A heavy gate provided seclusion and security. Loghain frowned.

"Do the Qunari have access to the buildings fronting the street?"

Varric could answer that.

"No. They've got some warehouse and factory space behind them, and there's a small courtyard. These buildings here are city property, and when the Qunari moved in, the back doors were sealed. Behind the compound are more warehouses that belong to the Merchant's Guild, and they're not likely to want to share with the Qunari. As far as I know, that gate is the only way in or out."

Loghain looked at again, unconvinced, and grimaced in disgust. There was not a city guard to be seen. Someone should be assigned to this post day and night. The Qunari, on the other hand, knew their business. A big warrior manned the gate. These Kirkwallers were absolutely determined to make it as easy for the Qunari as possible.

"You think it's not safe," Hawke said to him quietly. "I agree. The Arishok is ready for any excuse to lash out. Why he hasn't left, I don't know. The Qunari seem to have plenty of money. They could buy a ship, for that matter."

Maude suggested, "Maybe he's in disgrace for losing his own ship. Maybe he was supposed to go down with it. Seems hard on his men to keep them here if the disgrace is only his. And then," she smirked, "he's lost a lot of men, too, hasn't he? I mean, considering the large number of Tal-Vashoth plaguing the coast, he must have lost what? A third of his men? Nearly half?"

"Could be," Hawke agreed. "From what I could see in the compound—which wasn't much, since they're so secretive—I'd estimate that the Arishok hasn't much more than a hundred men at his disposal."

"I estimate a hundred ten to a hundred twelve," Varric said. He saw everyone staring, and said, "What? They have to pay for provisions, don't they? The Merchant's Guild keeps tabs. Based on what it takes to feed one Qunari, it's not that hard to figure."

Loghain's opinion of the gossiping dwarf soared. "Well reasoned," he said.

They needed to return to their borrowed mansion for the midday meal, and ordinarily Loghain would have invited everyone to join them. With a mob of little mages in the house, it was probably not the best idea to invite Sebastian Vael.

Maude, however, could not take leave of her aristocratic manners to that extent. Loghain winced as she did in fact invite the prince, just as if she were in command of an army of cooks and footmen. Loghain tried to remember who was in charge of this meal.

Oghren. Maker's Breath!

"We live very simply, of course," Maude was saying. "without servants, but you are most welcome to take potluck with us."

Apparently Loghain's plain speaking had not completely antagonized his new admirer, for Sebastian immediately accepted the invitation, and they walked back toward Hightown, not dawdling quite so much on the return trip. They were Wardens, after all, and hungry.

Oghren had not cooked. Loghain considered reciting the Canticle of Benedictions on the spot. They would not, therefore, have ale soup, ale stew, or nugs in ale. The dwarf had been apparently too much occupied with other...errands, and so had bought provisions from a bake shop. The intriguing fragrance drew Loghain in through the front door, nostrils flared. The dogs themselves seemed very excited.

"The woman said she made 'The Best Pies in Kirkwall.'" Oghren grinned. "Huh! We'll see about that!"

The table in the room they had set up as a dining and recreation hall was spread with good things. Oghren had spent his coin generously. There were rats on sticks, of course, with deep bowls of spicy sauce; but there were nuts and olives, crusty bread rolls, a bowl of ripe pears, a blue-veined cheese, a whole roasted nug, and at least two dozen enchanting pastry castles, steam still rising from the crenelations.

"Looks good!" Varric approved. "Those, my friends, are Kirkwall Keeps: minced pork-and-apple pies!"

"Oooh!" cried Maude, "I smell nutmeg! I love nutmeg!"

As they had guests, they opened some wine. It was quite a feast. And the children thought so too, when they exploded into the room, squealing, young faces eager.

Then they saw the stranger, and all the light went out of their eyes as they shrank back.

"Mistress Wynne, Master Zevran, and children," Maude rounded them up with reassuring charm, gesturing at each one as she named them. "Lilia, Valandrion, Jennet, Alisanne, Davey: you know Master Hawke and Master Varric. This is Prince Sebastian, so bow. Right. I want you to sit at this end. I bought you a special treat today, and I hope you'll eat nicely and deserve it!"

Bribes worked, Loghain knew, as well on children as they did on adults: that is, less than half of the time. However, if the bribe was attractive and promptly paid, people were more likely to live up to their part of the bargain. The child took their places with a minimum of noise.

"I'll sit with the nuglets, too," Oghren said. "Wynne and I are old friends. Somebody's got to help the kids lay siege to Castle Piever. Haw!"

Maude made a face, annoyed at the gibe. "Castle Piever. How very amusing."

Loghain considered it. "Good one, Oghren."

The dwarf, very considerately, had found some books from the library for the children sit on, since the benches were low. Every child gripped his or her little spoon like sword-wielding warriors about to do battle; struggling mightily to wait until the slothful adults had taken their places.

"Those are the refugee children, then?" Sebastian asked Maude quietly. "They look like they could use a good meal. It is an act pleasing to Andraste to feed and clothe poor orphans."

"Pleasing to me, too," Maude beamed at him. "Sit, sit everyone! I hope everyone's had as delightful a morning as I did."

Dain nodded judiciously. "First-class, I'd say." The men rumbled agreement. Hereward turned a delicate shade of pink and seemed intolerably pleased with himself.

They fell to with a will. Sebastian, Varric, and Hawke did not have the appetites of Wardens, but they clearly enjoyed the meal. Maude kept everyone well supplied with wine and ale, or with cider, if their taste ran to that. For the children, she had ordered a keg of ginger beer: not strong enough to dizzy their little heads, but safer than the city water, and a pleasant novelty for them.

They had nearly finished off the last redoubts of crumbly pastry, when there was a knock at thefront door.

No, not a knock: an infernal pounding, as if someone were laying siege to the mansion in good earnest. Darrow rose, muffled a belch, and moved with languid determination in the direction of the door.

"I'll go, too," Maude said. "Perhaps it's one of my deliveries."

Maude did not reappear immediately. Ranger stirred from beneath the table, where he was gleaning dropped tidbits, and surged out of the room, ears up. Darrow came back, fully alert.

"You'd better come, ser," he said grimly, jerking his head toward the front door. "It's trouble."

It certainly was. The conversation was loud enough to ring through the the reception hall.

"...We're here for the apostates!" a deep voice snarled. "You'd better hand them over at once, if you know what's good for you!"

Maker's Breath! Loghain pressed on, alarmed. The Templars! They must have the mages' phylacteries!

Behind him, he heard footsteps, as the Wardens closed ranks.

Maude's voice was calm and unimpressed. "Nice company you keep, Ser Cullen. As for that buzzing fly who mentioned 'apostates,' I don't speak to cowardly bullies afraid to show their faces. So, Cullen, if you wish to discuss this matter in a civilized manner, we're at your service. The extra muscle, however, is not invited."

"Your Grace…" a younger, milder voice faltered, "I am here in the performance of my duty. We have tracked a party of apostates to this location…"

"There are no apostates here," Maude said coldly. "This house is currently a Grey Warden residence. Of course there are mages. A Grey Warden mage, however, is not an apostate, but a lawful defender of all life on Thedas."

Loghain grimaced. He would have to back her up, one way or the other. He stepped out into the sunlight, with a party of Wardens at his back. Maude was quite at her ease, with Ranger beside her. Topaz darted out, growling at the armed men, and then joined her mate.

"Ser Cullen," Loghain said, moving up alongside Maude, his eyes flicking over the Templars. Cullen, four more knights, three archers, stood ranged on the steps and down on the courtyard. Other than their leader, the Templars all wore the big bucket helmets that concealed their identities, and they were in full fighting panoply, including the long purple skirts. He and his people could certainly take them—and easily at that—but then they would have to leave Kirkwall quite a bit faster than they had planned.

"My lord…er….Warden-Commander," Cullen responded, eyeing Loghain with nervous distrust. Loghain was unimpressed. He certainly hadn't asked that fool Uldred to get himself possessed by a demon and start killing mages and Templars alike back at the Fereldan Circle during the Blight. The point of his scheme with the Libertarians was to give the mages a bit more freedom—preferably to serve in the army.

Loghain returned the young Templar's scrutiny with his most gelid and intimidating stare. "My Senior Warden has already told you there are no apostates here. By ancient treaty, you have no right whatever to interfere with the Grey Wardens. Ser Cullen, I will not gainsay my wife, who is willing to discuss the matter with you, but the rest of you will leave."

"Not without the mages!" shouted a Bucket Head. "We know they're in there!"

Loghain's head swiveled toward the faceless knight. He was a big man with a big sword. Loghain had killed bigger. "Leave."

Cullen cleared his throat. "I'll handle this, Alrik—"

"Oh!" Maude cried. "Is that Ser Alrik talking? I've heard of him! He's the one who whips little girls and buggers little boys. Is he hiding his face out of shame? So he should. I saw the marks. He likes to leave scars, it seems."

The faceless Templar blustered, and there was a slight shift away from him: a certain restless unease among the men confronting them. Cullen flushed a curious shade of purplish-red. It clashed with his strawberry blonde hair. He opened his mouth, and then shut it.

Loghain sighed invisibly, in his deepest heart. The fat was sizzling in the fire now. On the other hand, he hated perverts who abused children; and he resented any loudmouthed oaf who thought he could tell Loghain what to do.

"The Senior Warden has spoken. You cannot interfere with Grey Wardens."

Cullen, at least, was no coward. "The apostates cannot be Grey Wardens. One is an old woman, and the other five are children."

Loghain let his gaze sweep the men before him. "An old woman…" he repeated slowly, "…and five children…and the lot of you dressed up for a tournament or a pig-sticking. I can't quite tell which. Maker's Breath, that's sad."

Maude cocked her head. "And what makes you think they're not Grey Wardens? Our Right of Conscription is absolute. We can conscript anybody. Absolutely anybody, regardless of rank, race, gender, or age. We could conscript the Viscount. We could conscript your Knight-Commander. We could, in fact, conscript every one of you right now as we speak, and you would have no right to appeal or protest or…resist."

She came forward a little. Loghain hoped she would not actually conscript a Templar or burst out into one of her insane rants. This was really, really not the time or place for it.

"And let's talk about that 'old woman,' while we're at it. That 'old woman' was with us when we ended the Blight. I didn't see any of you there. Nor any of your order, for that matter! She was with me when I saved the Fereldan Circle. Now that I recall it—and I recall it with crystal clarity—I had no Templar assistance there, either. No. With me was...my dog..." she declared, with a sweeping gesture.

Ranger barked, and then panted with sublime self-satisfaction.

Maude continued, her voice vibrating with eloquence. "...an apostate, and Wynne, Senior Enchanter of the Circle. The only Templar left in the Tower at the end was you, Cullen, trapped in an arcane sphere. Every other Templar was shaking in his boots beyond the barrier door, and Greagoir had sent for the Right of Annulment, which would have meant cutting down the little apprentices the brave Templars left behind. As it happened, I dealt with the blood mages, saved the First Enchanter, and despite some people's expressed fears, not one of those mages who survived became an abomination! So don't pretend you've seen more demons than I have. " She smiled eerily. "I have, in fact, seen things that would turn your blood to spit!"

Loghain put up one hand for quiet. With the other he grasped Maude's strong shoulder, willing her to be calm and keep her weapons sheathed. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sebastian Vael moving closer to the door, listening in disbelief. Hawke and Varric were there, too; ready to fight, but sensibly out of plain sight until then.

"And I," said Loghain,"have had considerable experience myself. We feel perfectly capable of dealing with any magical threats. After all," he sneered at the men in their massive armor. "I killed the bloody Archdemon, which is just about as magical a being as it is possible to meet. Maude is right: I don't recall any of you being present. So, Ser Cullen, are you willing to talk sensibly, or not?"

A tense silence. Cullen took a long breath, and said, "I will discuss the matter with the Warden-Commander. Ser Alrik, take the men and withdraw to the Chantry."

Ser Alrik shouted, "Just you wait until the Knight-Commander hears about this!"

Maude looked at Cullen and said quietly, "I'm going to kill him if he doesn't shut up right now. I don't care what that crackpot Meredith says, either."

"Ser Alrik, withdraw!"

The rest of the Templars moved off, grumbling. Loghain turned and gave a quiet command to Darrow.

"Bring Wynne here, but make clear that we are not handing her over."

"Those children..." Cullen protested, "you wouldn't really force them to be Grey Wardens, would you?"

Maude was amused. "What, use their powers for the good of all Thedas, rather than be locked away for life with no chance for purpose and meaning? That is a dilemma, isn't it?"

"So much sarcasm is not necessary, Maude," Wynne reproved her. In the daylight, she looked even worse than she had the night before. Her appearance clearly shocked Cullen. Wynne looked sadly at the young Templar. "I have done the world some service, whether it acknowledges me or not. I have helped to save the Circle. I stood before the Archdemon. I have taught the young, healed the sick, and comforted the dying. I have never rejected the idea of the Circle, Cullen; but if the Chantry can do no better for us than rape and torture and death by fire, then it is time to...restructure the relationship between mages and the Chantry."

Loghain said, "There's another thing that can be done. Leliana has joined the Seekers. Maude can write to her and tell her to investigate the allegations against the Starkhaven Templars. That's what the Seekers do, isn't it?"

Cullen grimaced at the mention of the Seekers, but Maude thought that a very good idea. So, apparently, did Sebastian Vael, though he remained silent.

Maude said, "I'll write to her this very day! Wynne, when you're feeling a bit perkier, I think you should write down a detailed account of the events from the time of the Cumberland fiasco to the present, detailing everything you saw. Leliana has the ear of one of the Chantry elite."

"You're really conscripting all of them?" Cullen asked, rather overwhelmed.

"They are conscripted," Loghain corrected him. "They are no longer your concern. Were I you, I'd be more worried about the Qunari presence."

"Ser Cullen," Maude said, in her most persuasive tones, "Wynne is going home to Ferelden. She is a member of the Ferelden Circle. She has a phylactery in Ferelden. She was authorized to travel by the Knight-Commander and the Grand Cleric there. She had permission to attend the College of Mages in Cumberland. It was not her fault that the Chantry did not act in good faith. It's quite obvious that permission was given to the mages to attend, with the secret intent of arresting the most talented and distinguished mages in Thedas and locking them up far from home. That was a cruel and foolish thing to do: exactly the sort of thing that drives mages to despair and violence So she is going home. It is the best thing for her, for you, and for everyone."

"Very well," Cullen said, looking dashed. "Nobody questions your Right of Conscription, Warden-Commander, but children..."

"They will be properly watched over and trained. They're safer with us than with you," Maude told him flatly. "So nice to see you again, Ser Cullen."

The young man gave them a formal bow, and marched away, head bowed in thought.

"Good riddance!" Maude said. "He is such a wet blanket. Rather pretty, though. Well, I'm off to give the children their treats."

Sebastian Vael was still bewildered. "Those little children...they are all mages?"

Maude gave Sebastian a brilliant smile. "Don't worry, Your Highness! It's not contagious."

"They may not all be mages," Loghain added. "It's possible that the eldest girl is not, but of course the mere inability to wield magic will not free her now. She was committed to the Circle, and has no appeal."

Maude's voice modulated to a throbbing pressure that impelled instant submission. "I think you should have a nice long talk with Wynne, and learn about conditions in your city!" She smiled again. "But now for the treats! Sugarplums for everyone!"

She darted away, face alight. Loghain groaned, wondering what those children would be like, once they were stuffed with sweets and given hard wooden objects with which to hit each other and everybody else.

"Yes," Wynne nodded, deep in thought, "You must understand that we did not flee out of willful rebellion. Come back to the dining hall, Prince Sebastian, and I'll tell you the whole story. Perhaps it would be best over a nice cup of tea..."

And Sebastian, Prince of Starkhaven, accustomed to obeying maternal older women, went without a whisper of protest.

There was amusement among the Grey Wardens. Ambrose laughed with the rest, but then jerked his chin at Cullen's distant, retreating figure.

"They'll be back," he predicted.

"Probably," Loghain granted. "But it will take time for them to decide how far they want to go. Hawke, I have something to discuss with you. Varric, you will find this of interest as well."

The pile of petitions in the study had grown while he was gone. Loghain pointed his guests to comfortable chairs and began sorting through the pile. Anything that involved Ferelden or the Wardens in particular he kept. Other pleas, that could be handled just as well by a local hero, he tossed in Hawke's direction. The young man skimmed through them, nodding. Varric raised his brows at a few of them. There was potential for profit here.

"And this—" Loghain snorted at one of the petitions "—would never have come my way if you had a Viscount and a City Guard worth anything."

Hawke temporized. "Aveline's a friend."

"I daresay. She may be a good friend, but I cannot say I'm impressed with the performance of her people. There is not even a sentry keeping watch at the Qunari compound, for Maker's sake! A city this rich should have a guard three times the size, not to mention a respectable standing army."

Hawke gave him a wry but winning smile. "I don't pretend to be privy to all the financial secrets of the city. I do know that a lot of money comes in, and then is siphoned off almost immediately. Aveline complains that her budget is stretched to the limit. What's this?" he said, taking up another piece of parchment. "Oh, I know these people."

They worked through the petitions for some time, and Maude joined them later.

"The little ones are having their naps. Valandrion is having a lesson with Bethany, and Lilia…"

Lilia was right behind Maude, determined to have her say about her rather nice new apparel.

"You bought me girl's clothes!" Lilia sulked. "I'm wearing a skirt. How can I fight in a skirt?"

Maude had no patience with that. "I fight in a skirt all the time. One can fight perfectly well in a skirt, if it's not too tight and one is not a silly prude. What are tassets or faulds, other than a kind of skirt? Besides, breeches are no better. I can't tell you the number of times I beat a man because the back of his trousers ripped at a critical moment."

Lilia squealed with laughter, and put a hand over her mouth.

"Laugh if you like," Maude said loftily. "but it always distracts them: always, always, always. That r-r-r-ripping sound. Even the ones disciplined enough not to grab their behinds look away from me, and that's when I get them. So there. Skirts rule."

Lilia giggled, and then grew solemn. "Is that why Templars wear them?"

"Could be," Hawke nodded judiciously. "After all, even Templars can't be complete idiots all the time."

Maude instantly disagreed. "Of course they can! They stole the skirt idea from Andraste, but they're still idiots."

Loghain let them laugh, glad to see the little girl in better spirits and not nearly so filthy. A pert little face with quite fine eyes. Her eyebrows were dark and strong-drawn, curving up beautifully like a swallow's wing.

"Are we really going to be Grey Wardens?" she asked Maude.

"Absolutely not," said Loghain. Lilia's face fell.

Maude gave Loghain a look. "What the Warden-Commander means to say, Lilia, is that's the story we're telling the Chantry until we are safely out of Kirkwall. When we get to Ferelden we'll have a long talk about what is best for each of you. Mages do need special training, but there are a number of ways to do that, and Wynne is not sure that you are actually a mage—"

"I know I'm not," Lilia said. "The day they took me away the weather was all funny, and my hair was crackling, and when the priest touched my hand there was this little spark, but my half-sisters were crackling too, and nobody called them mages. That didn't matter. The priest was frightened, and my step-mother got very excited and agreed that I must be a mage, because I was a wicked girl and always causing trouble. Even one of the Templars wasn't sure, but the Revered Mother was friends with my step-mother, and she told him what to think, and before I knew it, I was taken to the Circle, and they cut me for my blood. Now my step-mother's children will get everything."

Hawke muttered. "I wonder how often that happens..."

It was a genuinely horrible thought. Loghain knew of families—like Sebastian Vael's for that matter—that had forced inconvenient children into the Chantry; but to manipulate events to brand a child a mage, with all that would mean...that was unspeakably cruel. It could not be permitted to stand. Maude seemed to have taken a fancy to the little girl. Certainly, somewhere in the vastness of Soldier's Peak there was some small corner where a small girl could find shelter. Long ago, he had taken a young girl in, and Cauthrien had certainly turned out well. This girl was not a warrior, but that was not to say that she had no value. And she was very young, and with the influence of Maude...

As Loghain passed Hawke another parchment, there was another commotion at the front door. He and Maude exchanged long-suffering glances.

"Master Hawke!" called Osbeck. "Friends of yours!"

And Isabela and a tall redheaded woman stormed through the door.

"I'm going to die!" Isabela shouted. She put her hands on her excellent hips. "There. That got your attention. Real problem."

"I thought you were looking for your relic?' asked Varric.

The redhead exploded. "Who cares about her relic? I am trying to keep this city from rising up against the Qunaris! I think that's just a little bit more important than a piece of loot!"

Isabela looked pained. "Maybe... the relic will help with the Qunari problem. Hawke, I told you that my old friend Castillon was going to kill me if I didn't deliver the relic. Now I hear that Wall-Eyed Sam has it. The thing is...well...The relic and the Qunari are sort of...connected. The Qunari...may have come here in search of it."

"Keep talking," Loghain ordered. This was going to be very bad. The angry redhead was Aveline Valen, Captain of the city guard, and former Fereldan officer. Loghain vaguely remembered her. She had been quite a junior officer at Ostagar, but Loghain never forgot a face. Hers was stony hard and hostile when turned his way. He did not waste time trading glares, but tried to make sense of Isabela's story. Probably most of it was a tissue of lies. She was quite a bit like Maude, if Maude were shorn of every scrap of patriotism and aristocratic honor. Her story, however fabricated, was still diverting. Maude sent young Lilia off to the dining hall, much to the child's disgust, and they focused their attention on Isabela.

"I found out that the relic is a book. A Qunari book. A Qunari book written by that philosopher of theirs...Caspian, Cousland..."

"Hey!" objected Maude. "No Qunaris in my family! Philosophers either," she added, in an aside.

"Koslun," Zevran said grimly, coming into the room. "The Book of Koslun. You are saying that it is what brought the Qunari here? Perhaps the book was lost? Stolen?"

Loghain narrowed his eyes at Isabela. "Stolen...by you?"

"We don't have time for Isabel's selfish concerns!" Aveline pounded the table with a mailed fist. "The Arishok is sheltering two fugitives. I need your help so this doesn't get out of hand."

"What do you mean, 'fugitives?'"asked Maude. "They're obviously not mages."

"They're elves, wanted for murder. They've taken refuge with the Qunari claiming to be 'converts.' Obviously we can't have every criminal in this city thinking they can evade the law that way. The Arishok must be convinced to release them! We're in real danger of a riot."

"All right, Aveline," Hawke said, admirably calm. "What do you want?"

"Come with me to the compound. I need help convincing the Arishok to cooperate."

"And I need help not dying!" Isabela shouted.

"Maybe having the book returned would appease him, and then he would depart." Loghain suggested. "It's not like any us care about Qunari philosophy."

Maude was pleased at the prospect of adventure. "Hawke can go sort out Isabela, and I can go with Aveline to the Arishok. He sort of likes me."

Loghain wasn't having that. "You are not going to the Arishok alone!"

"N-o-o-o-o-o," Maude said soothingly. "I'm going with Aveline and her guardsmen. However, I don't deny that this sounds like a situation in which backup is called for. We'd better armor up directly."

"Definitely," agreed Hawke, getting up and rubbing circles on Isabela's back. "The Arishok has been on the edge for weeks. I'll see if we can track this book down, and then I'll join you at the Qunari compound by the docks as soon as I can."

"Come on," Isabela said, "the exchange is happening at the Lowtown foundry." She left, swaggering, her point gained. Hawke paused in thought.

"I'll see if Fenris is at home, and we'll find Merrill in Lowtown. Hunter!" he called for his mabari.

Loghain made his dispositions quickly, and then went upstairs with Maude to arm. Captain Aveline might fear the city rioting, but Loghain thought a Qunari sortie was just as likely, and could be infinitely more dangerous. He had no liking for this city and no stake in its security; but he was temporarily living here, and the Qunari Compound was between him and the ship that would take him home. Unfortunate that his appointment with the Viscount had not been earlier in the day: there might have been more that he could have accomplished.

Maude's hair was firmly plaited up and pinned. She was beautiful in her Archdemon armor, and terrible as an army with banners. She saw him looking and tilted her head up for a kiss. "Let's go out there and kill them."

"Them? Who's 'them?'"

"Anyone...everyone...whoever asks for it and needs killing the most."

"I daresay you're going to try to 'persuade' the Arishok to cooperate with your friend Aveline."

She blew out a breath. "I'll certainly try that first, but I suspect he's pretty strong-willed. It worked on Sten eventually, but I've only met this man once before. Oh well, if he won't listen to reason, we'll probably have to kill him." She slung her spring-bow over a shoulder. "I'll take Roderick, too. Today is a day to carry as many weapons as possible."

Loghain agreed with that, but felt some concern for Wynne and the children. If they all left the house, what was to prevent the Chantry from breaking in and seizing them—or worse?

"Oghren," he said. "You and Thanyra will stay here and guard the house and our Junior Wardens. No Templars or Qunari are to cross the threshold."

"Sodding blighters," muttered Oghren, "leaving me behind."

"Oghren," Maude murmured, "This is important! The children don't go out, and no one but us comes in. Tell the children some good old Orzammar stories."

Loghain detected a little vocal nudge there, and cleared his throat. Maude only smiled, and Oghren became quite resigned.

"Right, Boss. You can count on me."

"What is happening?" Wynne said, coming out to the hall, Sebastian in tow. "Lilia says that the Qunari are rioting."

"We hope not," Loghain said swiftly. "We are on our way to their compound to try to mediate. Stay here with the children. We're leaving Oghren and Thanyra with you, and Zevran..."

"Zevran," said the Antivan assassin, bowing gallantly to Maude, "will be where he belongs. I have missed fighting at your side, my Warden!"

Loghain forced down his annoyance at Maude's delighted smile. "Oh, very well. Prince Sebastian, this is not your fight—"

"Of course it is!" cried that princely young scion of the Vaels. He was still holding his teacup. "I will defend this city with my life, and at the side of the Hero of the age!"

"Finish your tea first," Maude advised, "and then we're off."

Thanks to my reviewers: Zute, Ellyanah, Anime-StarWars-fan-zach, MsBarrows, Hero, JackOfBladesX, Judy, Tsu Doh Nimh, Oleander's One, KnightOfHolyLight, Phygmalion, Jyggilag, Mike3207, Jenna53, Enaid Aderyn, EpitomyofShyness, Kira Kyuu, Psyche Sinclair, mille libri, RakeeshJ4, sizuka2, Gene Dark, Shakespira, Josie Lange, riverdaleswhiteflash, anon, and timunderwood9.

Note: mille libri's At Your Side uses some of the same source material regarding the pies of Kirkwall. Do read her splendid story. Her story also first presented the concept of a non-mage being consigned to the Chantry and Tranquility by a corrupt official in collusion with the Chantry.

Maude does not use the Marcher honorific "Serrah," when speaking to people. Instead she says, "Master" or "Mistress," which is Fereldan usage.

I don't believe that Templars have the actual ability to sense magic or magical ability. If they did, identifying apostates would be far easier. I think they act on evidence, information, and deduction. All sorts of natural phenomena could be taken for an instance of magic, and I think static electricity could easily be one of them.

Some twists in the next chapter. To review the parties: Hawke, his dog, Varric, and Fenris are going with Isabela to track down the relic. Oghren, Thanyra, Wynne, and the children are at the Tethras mansion. Going to the Qunari Compound are Loghain, Maude, Sebastian, Bethany, Ambrose, Darrow, Kain, Valentine, Osbeck, Hereward, Topaz, and Ranger.

A recipe for sugarplums:

2 cups whole almonds
1⁄4 cup honey
2 tsp. grated orange zest
1 1⁄2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1⁄2 tsp. ground allspice
1⁄2 tsp. freshly grated nutmeg
1 cup finely chopped dried apricots
1 cup finely chopped pitted dates
1 cup confectioners' sugar

1. Preheat oven to 400°. Arrange almonds on a baking sheet in a single layer and toast in oven for 10 minutes. Set aside to cool, then finely chop.

2. Meanwhile, combine honey, orange zest, cinnamon, allspice, and nutmeg in a medium mixing bowl. Add almonds, apricots, and dates and mix well.

3. Pinch off rounded teaspoon-size pieces of the mixture and roll into balls. (Rinse your hands often, as mixture is very sticky.) Roll balls in sugar, then refrigerate in single layers between sheets of waxed paper in airtight containers for up to 1 month. Their flavor improves after ripening for several days.