86. Going Rogue
They waited until nightfall, despite Finian's agitation about the wanted posters and Alistair's lack of knowledge about them. Leliana soothed him by working on his fingering with his lyre. By the end of the day, he and Meila were singing Dalish songs together for the Alienage kids. Even she and Zevran joined in, by the third or fourth time through each song.
And so, that night, they packed up their fresh non-bloodstained outfits—courtesy of the grateful shop owner for clearing the healers off his doorstep—redonned their leather armor, and snuck out of the Alienage in the same manner they'd come in: up and over the wall.
Leliana was almost sad to wave goodbye… she'd met a lot of good people today. She'd never really thought about what it must mean to be separated from the general population like this. She'd always thought that the elves must be safer and happier among their own kind… but that was obviously not true. She couldn't keep believing that, after what she'd seen today.
The four rogues hopped off the rooftops and took to the alleys. This meant they ran into a mugging and had to put a stop to it, but it was still safer than the higher-profile running-on-rooftops craziness of the night before… no matter how much less fun.
They were skirting around the market quarter when Leliana heard something that made her pause. Was that… a Chanter? At this hour?
The others noticed her stop. "Leliana?" Finian prodded. "Something wrong?"
"Oh, I really hope not." She worked her way out to see the Chantry, because the Chanters shouldn't be out working at this hour. It was too dangerous, unless something had happened. Oh, she hoped nothing had happened… not here too.
"Maker, my enemies are abundant," the Chanter was saying, very slowly. Her voice was hoarse, but strong. "Many are those who rise up against me."
Leliana poked her head out of the alley and gasped, and she heard the others have similar reactions behind her. Wynne?
"But my faith sustains me," Wynne was saying. She was dressed in her Mother's robes, and a Templar looked to be nodding off behind her. "I shall not fear the legion, should they set themselves against me."
"Oh, that is clever," Zevran whispered appreciatively. Leliana rolled her eyes, but smiled. Silently, she agreed.
"Should we see how long they can keep this up, or should someone go grab them?" Finian asked with a smile.
"I'll go," Leliana laughed. "I'm least conspicuous."
The square was pretty much empty at this time of night, but Leliana still carefully timed her casual stroll out of the alley and into the Chantry, walking right past the pair, who, to their credit, didn't miss a word of the Chant. Leliana grabbed up a bucket and the well and pumped a couple times, then carried her bucket back out, pretending that this was nothing but a late-night emergency well-run. She returned to the alley with a bucket of water she wasn't sure what to do with.
A moment later, the Chant of Light stopped filling the square, and Wynne and her Templar escort shuffled into the alley. Alistair ripped off his helmet with a sigh of relief, his hair matted with sweat. "Maker, am I glad Duncan conscripted me." Leliana offered her water with a smile, and he started gulping it down.
Wynne, meanwhile, ran a hand over her throat, her hand briefly glowing blue with healing magic. "I must say, that does take a great deal more lung-power than I would have guessed. I shall have to tip Chanters better in the future, I think."
"Must they really shout it in a public square like that?" Meila asked. "Do the followers not know the words already?"
"I don't think they do it for the devout followers, Meila," Finian said with a grin.
"Then they intend to annoy and enrage those who do not wish to have Chantry teachings shoved down their throats?" Meila sounded so indignant that even Leliana stifled a giggle.
"It is natural, when you believe something strongly," Leliana said, "to want to share it, no? Is that not why you are so proud of your Dalish tattoos that you refuse to hide them?"
"It is hardly the same," the elf said. "My vallaslin are what I am… how we dedicate ourselves to the Creators."
"And the Chant is how we dedicate ourselves to the Maker. You do not need to accept it; we merely want others to know our joy."
Meila seemed to turn that over in her head. "I suppose that seems fair."
"Whatever the case," Alistair cut in, "as far as I'm concerned, I'm all joyed out. Do we want to know where you lot have been all day, that we had to stand there and do that for hours?"
"Rest assured," Zevran said, "we were up to no good."
Wynne looked genuinely worried, so Leliana put in. "We were only checking on Finian's family. That's all."
"I see," Wynne said with a relieved sigh. Leliana was tempted to ask what they'd thought they'd been doing. "They were well, I take it?"
"Not so much." Finian smiled tightly. "I'll fill you in later."
"Good idea," Alistair said, setting the bucket aside. "For now, let's get out of here, because, by the way guys, the guards are after us."
"I know," Fin sighed. "They put up wanted posters."
"Oh, was that what they were waving around?" The group started down the alley, following Finian deeper into the city. "So… which of us has a higher bounty, do you think?"
"Alistair," Wynne said in exasperation.
Fin chuckled. "Has to be me. I killed a noble, remember?"
"Yeah, but I'm a threat to Loghain's regency, remember?"
"Ooh, good point."
"Wait, what do you mean by that?" Leliana asked. Maybe it was the bard in her, but it sounded like there was an interesting secret afoot!
Even in the darkness, she could see Alistair flush. "I'm… uh… so good looking that the court will just have to make me king?"
Zevran laughed. "Subtlety is not one of your strong suits, my friend."
They came out into a street that appeared to be part of a laborer's district, then promptly crossed it into another alley. Finian seemed to be leading them somewhere.
Leliana and Zevran both stared at Alistair pointedly as they walked, until the human finally gave a twitch and said, "All right! Fine, I'll tell you. But you have to swear not to tease me about it, Zevran, or so help me you're going to lose those bits of yours that Fin seems so fond of."
Zevran nodded sagely. "I will swear it on my eternal love for leather."
"Right… well, here's the thing… it's probably largely my fault that Loghain is so big on having us all die as quickly as possible. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if I'm the reason he hired you, Zevran."
"Because you are some sort of threat to his regency?" Leliana confirmed, drawing a nod.
"The only threat, in fact. I'm kind of…" His voice got really quiet. "…King Maric's bastard son."
Leliana gasped, though something old in her was delighted to be privy to such a scandal. The Antivan, meanwhile, laughed.
Alistair glared at him. "Remember, not a word."
"Cross my heart and hope to die, your majestic Wardenness."
Alistair groaned, and Leliana couldn't stifle her own laughter.
"If it is any consolation," Meila said from the back of the group, "I see no point in obsessing over the identity of one's parents. In Dalish society, one's value to the community is judged by what one can do."
"Thank you, Meila," Alistair said.
"In fact," she went on, "I believe that, were Alistair Dalish, his abilities would not merit him being granted any position of power, much less major leadership of any large number of people."
"And now I take back my thanks."
"That means we've got two royals in the Wardens," Leliana said. "You and Marnan. You should get together and talk about royal things!"
"I'm not royal! I'm a bastard! I want nothing to do with kings and regencies… I just want to heal Eamon so he can fix everything."
"And it has not occurred to you," Zevran pressed, "that his solution may well involve your bloodline?"
"It has, yeah. I'm just really, really hoping it doesn't."
Leliana was about to comment on that, but Finian suddenly shushed them from up ahead. They were working their way through a dark alley, buildings towering all around them. Finian looked around anxiously. "I thought I heard voices."
Meila's eyes were sharper than anyone else's. She pulled her bow with one hand while pointing up to a wooden walkway above them with another. "There!"
An arrow flew through the darkness toward them, lodging in Zevran's shoulder. As the Wardens and their companions drew their weapons, a dozen men burst out of the shadows and swarmed them.
Leliana ducked under an overhang as she nocked her bow, trying to find the archer who had hit Zevran. The boys were engaging the melee attackers, and Wynne was quick with getting the arrow out of the Crow, but Meila seemed to have spotted the attacker and let fly already. Leliana followed the elf's gaze and spotted a trio of archers up on the walkway.
Leliana raised her own bow and shot the archer, and Meila shot her arrow while Leliana nocked her next one. They glanced at one another and smiled—and set about alternating shots, giving their target no time to recover as he was pierced by arrow after well-aimed arrow. At last, the first archer went down; Meila nodded her head to the right, and they switched targets to the next archer down the line.
However, Leliana lost her rhythm as something bit into her back—one of the thugs had broken away from the boys. Healing magic washed over her a moment later, but it broke her attention away from the archers. Leliana ducked a swing of the man's broadsword and scurried out from under the overhang.
Meila, apparently noticed the interruption, and turned and shot Leliana's attacker in the foot, stopping him from following as he stumbled. A moment later, Finian was there, smiling apologetically as he swiped his daggers across the man's throat to finish him.
The archers on the walkway saw the opening, and a flurry of arrows came down toward all three of them. Leliana started to dodge away, but one arrow hit her in the back of the knee, going right through the muscle above it. Her leg buckled, useless and in pain, and she collapsed onto her side in the middle of the alley.
More arrows thumped around her, and she could only duck her head and hope no more hit, as helpless as she was. A moment later, a presence moved over her, blocking her from the arrows. She looked up, expecting Alistair, but instead saw that it was Meila.
The elf had taken a couple arrows herself—most notably a shaft in her hip and a deep cut across the right side of her bared midriff. Still, the Dalish elf stood tall and proud as she stood over Leliana, steadily nocking arrow after arrow as she shot down the archers. Her hands didn't even shake.
Leliana, downed and in excruciating pain by just the one arrow, was amazed that this small, elegant elven body could possibly hold such strength.
The last of the archers fell, and Meila turned her attention to the melee fight. Alistair looked like the spoke of a deadly wheel, surrounded by no less than five men who seemed to take turns swiping at his armor. Wynne was right behind them, an aura of healing around her and a drawn expression on her face… she reached into her pouch and fumbled with a blue potion. Zevran and Fin, meanwhile, danced around the outside of Alistair's circle, picking off thugs from the back. As Leliana watched, Zevran took another down and shouted, "Ha ha! That's four for me!" which Fin matched in turn with a twist and a smirk. "Five!"
Leliana scrambled to lift her own bow to help, but her hands were shaking too much with pain to risk shooting at anything near her friends. With a sigh, she set her bow down and helped in the only way she knew how: she sang, her voice warbling through her pain.
"Fly, Warden, fly
On Griffon wings.
Your armor shines like fire
Your sword and bowstring sing."
Zevran, who was already weakened from the arrow wound in his shoulder, took a blow in the back from a greatsword and toppled to the ground. Finian savaged his attacker a moment later.
"The darkness must fail
You will prevail
Let none stand before you
Who do not feel your sting."
Wynne was exhaustedly trying to fire off what spells she could, but her strength was obviously flagging. Alistair, distracted, took a hammer blow to the head defending her. His helmet crumpled in, and he stumbled. Once he'd dispatched that opponent, Wynne helped him remove the ruined thing and healed him, and he gave her a bashful smile of thanks.
"Fight, Warden, fight
The final battle here
Bring forth the light
That evil must fear"
Meila's bow sang again and again, her arrows releasing in rhythm with Leliana's song.
"They will flee once more
As Ages before
The Grey Warden's victory
Draws ever near"
Meila's bow twanged one last time, and the last of the attackers fell. It took a moment of them standing in silence for their victory to sink in.
"Oh, thank the Maker," Fin said, collapsing practically on top of Zevran.
The Crow chuckled. "My Warden, I am perhaps unfamiliar with playing the part of the damsel in distress, but I suspect there must be something in the code of a knight in shining armor that involves not sitting upon the mortally wounded?"
"You're not mortally wounded, you baby," Fin said with a smile, even as Wynne rushed to the Crow's side to heal the ugly gashes that seeped through his armor.
"Yes, but claiming it is mortal goes far to score sympathy points, no?"
Meila, meanwhile, knelt down beside Leliana, inspecting her knee.
"You should see to your own wounds," Leliana pointed out, eying the spots still oozing blood on her midriff and thigh.
"They can wait." The Dalish stood and raised her voice. "Hahren, I do not believe my poultices will suffice for the satusulahn's wound."
Wynne nodded and rose with difficulty. Alistair had to walk her over to the two archers… and Alistair wasn't looking his best either. He still looked a little dazed.
"Satusulahn?" Leliana echoed curiously.
Meila gave her a considering look. "It means 'singer'."
"I see." Leliana smiled. "It's pretty. I like it."
If she didn't know better, Leliana might think that Meila blushed, just a bit.
Once Wynne was kneeling beside Leliana, she pursed her lips. "May I move it, dear?"
Leliana swallowed and nodded, and when Wynne carefully moved the knee into a better position to examine, Leliana had to hold back a scream. By Andraste, it hurt!
"Oh dear… it's gone right through the muscles above the knee. Even if I were at my full power, I wouldn't be able to heal this well enough for you to walk tonight." Wynne nonetheless began rifling through her healer's kit. "We will have to make do with removing the arrow and fixing what we can, for now. We will need a safe place to rest, however."
"That may prove problematic, I think," Zevran commented drily. Finian was helping him to his feet, but the assassin still looked wobbly.
"I lost my helmet," Alistair put in thoughtfully. "On the one hand, it will be hard to hide without it. On the other hand, I don't have to wear it anymore. I think I'm rather happy about that."
"You'll be easier to hit on the head, though," Fin said. "Then again, it's not like your head is anything of significance."
"I'll have you know I rather like my head, and Felicity agrees with me, so nyah."
"Yeah, she would, wouldn't she?"
"Children," Wynne sighed. "Might I get someone to hold Leliana while I remove the arrow?"
Leliana yelped as the Dalish elf's hands were suddenly on her shoulder, guiding her to lie down on the spare robes Wynne had laid out. "This will hurt, dear," the healer said, "but only for a moment."
And that it did, as Wynne pulled the wooden shaft right out of Leliana's knee. She could feel it scraping bone. But Meila's hands were strong, keeping her still, and someone gave her a cloth to scream into, muffling her cries.
And then, the arrow was gone, and healing magic washed over her, soothing the pain. Wynne slumped, looking like she wouldn't be much more capable of walking than Leliana was.
The Dalish elf let her sit up, and Leliana wiped the tears out of her eyes. She was about to thank the healer when she heard noise coming from one of the alley exits. The companions all stiffened, Meila's bow making a reappearance, and Finian drawing a dagger despite the Crow leaning heavily against his other side.
Thugs would have been bad, but this was much worse: these were armored guardsmen… a good half dozen of them. The guards were moving cautiously, apparently having heard the noise of the fight. When they spotted the Wardens, they stopped, and the two groups spent a moment staring at one another.
The guards no doubt saw a group of people sitting among a circle of corpses. Leliana could only hope it was too dark, and they were too blood-splattered, for them to recognize the faces from the wanted posters.
The companions, on the other hand, saw more opponents that they were in no way equipped to fight. And so, when one of the guards suddenly cried out in alarm, the companions burst into motion.
"Time to go!" Alistair cried, scooping up Wynne like one would a babe about to be put down for a nap. Fin and Zevran made their stumbling, four-legged way toward the end of the alley. That left Meila to take care of Leliana.
Leliana understood, in theory, that Meila was fairly strong for an elf. She'd seen as much in their battles, most recently just now. However, the woman was not prepared for the elf to scoop her up and roll her gently onto her back, holding her thighs against either thin hip while Leliana wrapped her arms around that delicate neck. With little more than a grunt and with no mind to her continued injuries, Meila loped off after the others, easily overtaking them as they flitted through the alleys.
Never, in all her years, had Leliana thought that she might one day receive a piggy-back ride from a Dalish elf.
And what a ride it was! Leliana's knee was still sore, making her wince when Meila occasionally jarred it. However, there was nothing more exciting than the harried flit from alley to alley as they stayed just ahead of their pursuers, or the clang of armor behind them as the heavily-armored guards struggled to keep pace. Meila practically flew, her gait smoother and more sure than any horse Leliana had ever ridden—and Leliana smiled to herself to think what the Dalish elf might think of that comparison.
It wasn't long before Leliana felt confident to hold the smaller woman tighter, because she knew she need not fear snapping the elf's delicate neck… Meila would simply refuse to let her. It was an amusing thought worth thinking about some other time.
They were down in the dockside district now, passing piers and smelling fish everywhere. The moonlight bounced off the waves dazzlingly.
Meila ran along one pier, but the sounds of alarm had drawn other guards, and a second squad stepped out in front of them. Meila turned their group in the only direction open—toward the docks, her gait pounding on the wooden planks as they wove though a maze of mired ships.
The others were tiring, even if Meila was not. Leliana could hear Alistair's heavy breathing, and Fin seemed to be dragging Zevran more than helping him run. A glance back proved that the guards were in hot pursuit, only about forty feet down the pier.
And then, Zevran raised his head, and something he saw ahead of them made him smile.
"Oi!" A call came from ahead of them, and Meila abruptly skidded to a stop, jarring Leliana's wound. Everyone else followed suit, including the guards.
The bard turned her attention forward, only to see an admittedly striking woman coming down from the huge three-masted ship they were directly in front of. The woman's dusky skin was northern, and the sway of the ample hips was that of a woman who knew the power of her own sexuality.
Leliana expected the woman to confront them, but instead, she passed the entire Warden party, throwing them a wink as she did. Once she was between Wardens and guardsmen, she faced down the guards with her hands on her hips. "And just what do you think you lot are doing, harassing my crew in the shadow of my own ship?"
That accent was Rivaini. Ah, that explained the woman's exotic coloring.
"Ma'am." One of the guards stepped forward. "We found these people in the center of a slaughter. They must be taken in for questioning."
"A slaughter, eh? And you just let them at it, did you? Maybe you should be bringing in whatever lowlifes attacked them then, because none of my crew would be stupid enough to start something like that. If they did, I'd slit their throats myself."
This seemed to make the guardsmen uncomfortable, and Leliana stifled a laugh.
"Tell you what: it's late, I'm tired, and all you fine men could probably use a break. I'll discipline my boys here, and you lovelies can just concentrate on cleaning up whatever mess they left and take the rest of the night off. How does that sound?"
They didn't seem to be buying it, the lead guard looking skeptically at the woman. Then, Finian opened his mouth.
"Pl-please, captain… we didn't mean nothin' by it," Finian stuttered in a surprisingly awful Rivaini accent. "Theys attacked us while we was comin' back from the Pearl… an' Jon here had a bit too much to drink, and they just jumped out and we had to defend ourselves, right? Don't give me muck-bucket duty again—I'd rather sit the night out in jail, I would."
The woman, if anything, looked amused by this development. "You'll take your punishment and like it, sailor. You rather I docked your pay?"
Finian hung his head dramatically. "No, ma'am."
The guards ate up this little bit of theater. "Erm, right. Well, we'll leave it to you, then. Someone will be by in the morning to follow up for the report, though, don't you doubt it!"
"Right, of course." The woman waved a hand. "Off you go now, gentlemen."
The guardsmen filtered away off into the night. Only after the last was gone did the woman finally turn to them. She sauntered back toward them, then stopped like she was striking a pose: her arms crossed under her ample breasts and a smirk on her lips.
"Well, this is certainly a nice surprise. I never thought I'd see you in Denerim, Zevran."
"Isabela," Zevran grinned, though the effect was somewhat lost due to the fact that he was hanging off Finian. "You are looking as beautiful as ever."
"Beautiful and lonely. So cruel of you, Zevran, to leave me bereft of a husband and a lover in one night."
"At least you got the ship, from the looks of it."
Isabela chuckled smokily. "That I did. Come here, and perhaps I will thank you properly."
"Alas, I am afraid that I am now a one-elf man," Zevran sighed airily. "I keep telling him that all the women of the world are left bereft without me, but he does not believe me."
"Because I have yet to see any legions of women pounding at our door," Finian laughed.
Isabela arched a brow. "So you are attempting to make this elf into an honest one? You have your work cut out for you, sweet thing."
"I do love a challenge."
"Not I. Give me easy and fun." Isabela looked around at the rest of them, her eyes lingering equally long on Alistair's face and Meila's torso. "I was about to ask what sort of trouble you lot had gotten yourself into, but anyone who's been in a tavern in the last week could answer that. It's a good thing those pesky guards didn't get a good look at you, or that little show just now wouldn't have worked, that's for sure." She sashayed to Alistair, peering up at him appreciatively. "I've never been with a Grey Warden before. I wonder if what they say about your stamina is true…?"
"That, dear Isabela," Zevran chuckled, "I can confirm without doubt."
Isabela hummed, and reached up to stroke Alistair's face, once. "Enticing." Alistair's entire face went red. Leliana could barely contain her laughter.
"We thank you for helping us," Wynne cut in diplomatically. "However, we are injured and must find a place to hide. So, if you are done, young lady, I fear we must be off."
"Oh, you need somewhere to stay? Somewhere discreet, I take it? Where no one will admit to being there to anyone of authority?"
"Well, yes. That would be ideal."
The smile on Isabela's face turned mischievous. "I think I know just the place. Oh, this will be fun."