18. A Good Army Gives its Prisoners Shirts

"So why do you suppose we're to be confined to the king's camp?" The other three weren't asking the question, and Felicity was never the one to let a question remain unasked.

"I wouldn't say confined… exactly," Alistair hedged.

"Do you think it has something to do with that… erm… tantrum the elf threw last night?" Ser Jory asked, then turned to Felicity. "Is he always like that?"

"His temper was rather infamous back in the Circle," she said somewhat wryly.

In front of them, Marnan remained quiet as she led them in their tour around the king's camp. She seemed to be too busy studying the fortifications and making mental notes of supplies to attend to the conversation. Felicity wasn't clear on why or how, but it was obvious the dwarf had experience with pitched combat. It was more than could be said for the rest of them.

Really, Alistair should probably have been leading the four of them, being the Grey Warden and all, but he seemed content to escort from second rank, as it were. "I know what it looks like, but it's really nothing to do with… what was his name? Kazar?" Alistair shrugged and scratched his chin. "Though the way he glares at me, I wouldn't mind it if someone decided to put him in time out for a while. Hopefully before he decides he wants to see what a roasted ex-Templar looks like."

Felicity held her tongue at that. Sometimes, she forgot that the amiable Warden had Templar training… it hadn't come up much in the three days since their arrival. Kazar, though… she suspected that after what had happened at the Tower, he had a much more difficult time dismissing it. Given that, she couldn't say she blamed him for his hostility toward anyone connected to the order.

By the Maker, was she feeling sympathy for Kazar Surana?

"So what would you call it, Warden?"

"For the hundredth time, Ser Jory, call me Alistair. It is my name, after all, and a damn good if I do say so myself." The blond sighed. "All I really know is that a letter from Duncan arrived this morning by courier. Apparently, he's left Denerim and is on his way here. As such, he would like all recruits kept to the king's camp. Knowing him, it's probably just so, when he finally does come in, he can collect you all quickly without having to scour the army camps from walls to washrooms."

"If that's the case," Jory said, "someone should tell that Dalish elf."

"If you want to go find her and tell her, Ser Jory, be my guest."

"You… you mean go out in the Wilds? Are we even allowed to do that?"

"…actually, no. I don't think so." Alistair frowned. "I wonder how she keeps getting out."

That was another matter that had been pressing on Felicity's mind lately. While healing Meila's leg the day before, Felicity had felt something… strange… in the Dalish elf. Something dark and twisted, spreading through her like drops of black oil in a bowl of clear water. She hadn't been able to identify it, and the Dalish elf had disappeared as soon as she had been healed. As of yet, Meila had not returned.

Oh, she hoped the Dalish elf did not stay out in the Korcari Wilds with that seething around inside her.

"You have not been sentenced?" Marnan's outraged voice snapped Felicity from her thoughts. She looked up in time to see the dwarf turning to a guard minding a set of hanging cages. "Just what kind of army are you running here?"

The guard shrugged. "Not my fault. I suppose the higher-ups have more important things to do than worry about some deserter."

The other three moved up to stand next to the dwarf. Felicity noted that one of the hanging cages was occupied with a gaunt, nearly naked man. That certainly couldn't be healthy, as wet and cold as this area was this time of year.

Marnan frowned, crossing her arms. "He's a deserter, then?"

"I wasn't deserting." the prisoner spoke up, pressing against the bars of his cage. He looked around at the other three pleadingly. "Does it matter? Please, all I want is some food and water."

Marnan cast a disapproving look at the prisoner. "Where I come from, deserters are cast out into the Deep Roads."

Alistair and Ser Jory looked confused by the reference. Felicity, however, only sighed and started digging around in her belt pouch for the half-eaten tack bread she'd stored there this morning. "And you don't think that's a little… extreme, Marnan?"

"Of course not!" the dwarf seemed shocked that Felicity would even question it. "When you are fighting darkspawn every day of your life, you need your army to stand together, bravely facing their own deaths with conviction and courage. Deserters undermine that, and undermining morale can be absolutely disastrous when you are facing impossible odds."

"Is that what fighting darkspawn is like?" Ser Jory asked. "Impossible odds?"

"Not impossible, Ser Jory," Alistair assured him. "Bloody unlikely, but they still die when stabbed well enough."

"Still," Felicity said, finding her half loaf of bread. "Starving him is an unnecessary cruelty." She handed the loaf of bread through the bars.

"Oh thank you! Thank you!" the prisoner said, devouring it hungrily. Felicity followed the bread with her waterskin. He drained it.

"It wouldn't hurt to give him a shirt as well," she told the guard.

The guard snorted in annoyance. "And where am I supposed to get a shirt, huh? No one gives me nothing."

Alistair smirked at Felicity. "Not a fan of half-naked men, are you?"

She blushed. "He'll catch a cold like this. Dampness and cold makes one highly susceptible to all manner of diseases. It's even worse if he doesn't have a proper chance to tend to his own hygiene, which only allows diseases to—"

"All right, all right." Alistair laughed and started unbuckling his cuirass. "'Naked man bad,' we get it." Once the cuirass was off, he tugged off his undershirt and rolled it into a wad, pushing it through the bars.

"You are all… very kind," the prisoner stuttered, fumbling with the cloth.

Alistair shrugged and grinned. "I just didn't want to listen to her talk about it for ten minutes." He turned to wink at Felicity, and she felt her face go hot as she noticed just how broad and strong-looking his bare chest was. Coupled with that devilish wink, it left her vexingly tongue-tied.

Marnan spoke to the prisoner then. "We'll see whether we can't find someone to sentence you. That will at least have this finished, one way or another."

"Thank you. You all have my gratitude… for what that's worth."

"None would be needed, if your imprisonment were being addressed properly," Marnan sighed. "Even so, you're welcome. Right, Felicity?"

"What?" Felicity tore her eyes away from Alistair, who was gathering up his splintmail, but making no move whatsoever to put it back on like he should. She blinked, gathering her wits. "Yes, of course."

Felicity followed as Marnan led them away, down a pair of stone steps to a broader section of the ruin.

"That was the right thing to do, I think," Ser Jory said as they walked. "Giving him a little dignity, I mean."

"And food," Alistiar chuckled. "The food probably helps too."

"He must have a family somewhere," Jory said. "A wife, or siblings, or something. I'm sure they would have appreciated what you all just did."

"Never really thought about that," said Alistair.

"I know I would have. I have a wife, you know. And a child on the way. I'd have hated to have wasted away like that, each day knowing they'd never hear from me again."

"I agree," Marnan said from up front. "Far better to die with honor, facing the darkspawn, than to die curled up in some cage." Her voice softened. "It is why my people exile some criminals to the Deep Roads."

Alistair raised a hand. "I'm a fan of not dying at all."

While they were crossing the camp, Felicity spotted a familiar set of maroon robes. Her heart did a leap, and she hurried forward. "Wynne!"

The senior enchanter looked up from the book she had been reading. As Felicity came to a stop beside her bench, Wynne's wizened face crinkled into a welcoming smile and she gently closed her book. "Felicity. I had wondered when you might find me. I hear word from the Tower that congratulations are in order… for both of you."

"Thank you, Wynne," Felicity couldn't seem to tamp down her elated grin at seeing her former mentor again. She could hear the others coming up behind her, and she couldn't bear to embarrass herself. "I've been practicing creation magic… it's just as you said; it's gotten much easier."

"That is good to hear." The older mage glanced behind Felicity. "And who are your friends, my dear?"

"Other Warden recruits." Felicity turned herself to point to each in turn. "This is Marnan, and Ser Jory. And Alistair is the Grey Warden who's been tasked with supervising us."

Alistair chuckled. "You make it sound like it's against my will."

"Is it not?" Marnan asked with a grin.

"Well, yes. But she doesn't need to know that."

"Well met," Wynne chuckled. "I am Wynne, a senior enchanter of the Circle of Mages." Wynne turned back to Felicity. "It is good to see you getting along so well with your new companions, Felicity." The others wouldn't have caught it, but there was relief in Wynne's voice. Wynne knew well that Felicity had never been particularly… adept at making friends with her peers. "Tell me, how is Kazar faring? I'd heard something about a disturbance in the general camp last night."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes. That was him. He met a Dalish elf that looked at him sideways, and so he decided to shatter all of the practice dummies in the West Hills camp."

"I see." Wynne said calmly, though Felicity swore the elder woman was holding back laughter.

"It did make a very pretty light show," Alistair put in.

"Let's hope he shows so much enthusiasm against the darkspawn," Marnan said.

"Well, that won't be a problem," the blond replied. "Just have Meila glare at him again, and make sure the archdemon is in his general vicinity. That should about stop the Blight right there."

"Actually, Wynne," Felicity said when reminded of Meila. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Go ahead. I'm listening."

"One of the other recruits is a Dalish elf. Yesterday, I healed her for a leg wound, but there was something… else. Wrapped around her like moss on a stone."

"Ah, yes. I believe I have seen the elf you're speaking of. Unfortunately, I haven't had any opportunity to examine her closely, so I can't say what might be ailing her."

"I…can." Both mages turned to Alistair in surprise. He shifted uncomfortably, raising the armor in his arms to cover his torso, as if suddenly realizing he was still shirtless. "Though I don't know if I should."

"Please, Alistair," Felicity said. "The enchanter is a healer… much better than I am. Maybe she can help."

He shook his head, his lips thinning. "Trust me, what Meila's got, no magical healing can help."

Wynne made a sound of understanding. "It's the Taint, then?"

The Warden nodded.

Felicity felt her stomach flip. "But… but how is that possible? She doesn't seem all that affected… she's not showing the standard symptoms, from what I can tell… no weakness, or pain. Just yesterday, she purportedly took down a boar and brought it back to camp singlehanded!"

"Oh, she's showing it," Alistair said grimly. "When she first came to camp a month ago, she was a great deal quicker, and stronger. More stubborn, too, though I know that's hard to believe."

"A month?! She's had the Taint for a month?! How is she even still alive?!"

"That," Wynne said ponderously, "is a very good question."

Alistair just shrugged. "All I know is that Duncan took her from the Dalish when she got sick, because the only cure for the Taint is to become a Grey Warden."

"That seems… odd," Ser Jory said with a frown. "What about being a Grey Warden cures the Taint?"

Felicity rolled her eyes. "Grey Wardens are immune to it. You're to become one, and you don't know that?"

"That's how we can defeat the darkspawn, then," Marnan said wryly. "Just induct everyone in Ferelden into the Grey Wardens, and suddenly no one gets sick from their blood. That would be one massive problem solved right there."

Alistair returned the wry look. "If only it were that simple."

"Well," Felicity said, "why isn't it? If we're facing a potential Blight, and Grey Wardens have an advantage over non-Wardens, why not induct the entire army into the Wardens and give them every advantage possible?"

"It's… look, there's some things I'm not allowed to tell you, all right? But let's just say that the Joining ritual is not exactly the sort of thing you want to inflict on people who aren't absolutely dedicated to wiping out the darkspawn." Alistair rubbed the back of his head, nervously. "It's why Duncan has to be picky with his recruits. I think this is the largest wave of new recruits the Ferelden Wardens have had in a century, and that's just because there is a Blight on the way."

"Wait, go back," Ser Jory said nervously. "A Joining ritual? That sounds like another test. Have we not already had enough of those?"

Felicity turned to him. "Does the prospect of magic worry you, Ser Jory?"

"No, it's not that. I'd just thought… I mean, haven't we already proven our worthiness? How many tests do we have?"

Marnan eyed him coolly, obviously not approving of his attitude. "As many as are necessary. The Grey Wardens know what they're doing when it comes to the darkspawn."

"If you're worried about tests," Felicity said, "all you need to do is study. I happen to be very good at tests myself, so I can tell you it's all about preparation and self-confidence."

"A wise lesson, dear," Wynne said with a smile. "One that, I think, applies to many aspects of life."

Ser Jory nodded, his lips pursed. Meanwhile, Alistair chuckled. "Feels like I'm back in school, all right." Felicity couldn't really imagine why that would be a bad thing.