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It was mid morning and Rincewind had found the road again. He now had a crude map of the country, Ferelden it's called Ferelden he reminded himself it just might look a bit suspicious if I don't know the name of the land I'm currently travelling in, and that's the last thing I need apparently. The best thing he could say was that he had dried out and woke up next to a warm fire, everything else was a disaster. The company he had joined last night gave him a great deal of information and virtually none of it had been remotely good. The monsters, the Darkspawn were out to kill everyone they could find and this mad place had decided that now was the perfect time for a good old fashioned power struggle. Finally (they probably decided to the leave the best till last) Robert and Bethany had then told him about the Templars. Rincewind was the first to admit that Magic was at best a nuisance and at worst a public menace, but having an order of heavily armed warriors rounding up anyone with magic abilities and throwing them in tower? That seemed like an explosive catastrophe waiting to happen, not to mention very inconvenient. Still the fact that they wore full plate armour was reassuring.
If the worst happens I can still outrun them.
Despite all this bad news he left the refugees determined to find the Luggage and get out of here as quickly and painlessly as possible. Of course once that thought crossed his mind he realised he was completely doomed and only had himself to blame for thinking that.
Equally doomed, at least in his mind, were the fireside refugees. Why they decided to run to a city that was, for all intended purposes, run by these Templars when even the most fleeting glance at Bethany made it clear she could wield magic was simply baffling. There again the mother seemed hopelessly nostalgic and Robert was an idiot with a terrible sense of humour. They even suggested that he join them. That line might have worked on the redhead Aveline but he had enough problems without travelling to a city that sounded even crazier than Ankh Morpork.
Rincewind now turned to his new map. He had absolutely no idea where to start his search.
"Are you lost? Perhaps I can be of assistance."
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"So this is Denerim. It certainly smells like a large city. I would have thought with all this surface air it might be…fresher."
"This entire country smells of wet dog and rotten waste." Growled Sten, his large form covered by a cloak dripping with persistent rainwater.
"How do we get in?" asked Alistair.
"We keep our hoods up and weapons concealed. If anyone asks we're refugees, no shortage of them so it shouldn't arouse suspicions." Decided Odin before turning to look at the rest of the group frowning. "Only Alistair, Leliana, Zevran, Wynne and me will go, we're the least likely to be noticed or recognised."
"You've done this before Warden" said Zevran with an approving grin on his face.
"This city may be on the surface but I bet the rules for dodging city guards remain the same and I've been doing it most of my life, if only to avoid a beating." Replied Odin in a glib tone before going back to business "We go in, visit this brother Genitivi and get out."
"And meet my sister" added Alistair happily.
"Yes, of course." Agreed Odin, it was a complication he could do without but the Dwarf could sympathise. After all he had left his own family back in Orzammar and intended to see them while sorting out that particular treaty. He tried not to think about it too much because he was worried; Rica had assured him she had got a noble patron but what if it hadn't worked out? Or had she lied to get him to accept Duncan's offer? As if he would have declined such an offer, best opportunity he had ever had. Not that he had much choice of course, considering the number of people who wanted him dead.
Odin continued "The rest of you will have to find some shelter out here and wait for our return, Morrigan perhaps you could keep a bird's eye view on us?"
"As you wish" the witch looked particularly smug this morning, though given what had occurred in her tent the night before…Odin could understand why she was in such a good mood. Even with Alistair making gagging noises behind their backs and Wynne's disapproving frown.
"The rest of you stay out of trouble." The Warden looked particularly hard at the walking chest and the dog. Both seemed to give him completely innocent looks in return. How the chest managed to do this without eyes would baffle Odin Brosca for years to come.
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Rincewind turned round to face the new arrival; she seemed to be an older woman, though her figure was full. Her hair was arranged in a rather odd style; it looked almost as though she had horns. Her eyes however were golden and looked ancient, as though they seen everything before. The hairs on the back of Rincewind's neck prickled. A powerful witch, an ordinary women with a taste for drama or something else all together? He didn't know but his well developed sixth sense for danger was going mad. But he did need help; he would be cautious, and polite, very polite.
He used his most sycophantic smile and asked "A pleasure to meet you my lady. May I know your name?"
The woman seemed to appreciate the effort. "My, my, such manners, always in the last place you look. As to my name well, names are petty but useless. Strange then that I have acquired so many of them, you however may call me Flemeth."
Whoever she is she certainly enjoys being mysterious, almost as much as the sound of her own voice. That thought Rincewind kept firmly to himself while he asked "What, if I may ask, is the help you can offer me?"
She smiled "Life has become so very interesting of late; my swamp will seem very quiet when I return. A Blight claws at the land, a young king lies dead and civil war rages, that Loghain always did lack tact when he needed it most. Meanwhile heroes, of the present and the future, wonder the land and they always need old Flemeth to help them along. But a new actor has now entered this play from his own story, perhaps these tales should not have crossed."
"Um yes" said Rincewind, not quite sure what to make of that little speech. "But you see I have lost my…companion and I really need to find him and soon."
"Indeed, and by fate, or by chance we meet." Said Flemeth "Our paths have already crossed albeit indirectly, through mutual friends."
Rincewind did get that reference. "You've had dealings with the Hawke family?"
"Dealings would be the right word. I rescued them from the Darkspawn and they are delivering something of mine in return. The future of that family will change the world."
"Really?" said Rincewind, his scepticism getting the better of him "Even Robert?"
Flemeth laughed, loudly and with a rather menacing undertone. "It will take some years yet and will involve a lot of dungeons that will all look the same after a while, but the outcome is unchangeable, save for a few minor details. But right now both our eyes are on another small group with a far more interesting story."
"The Grey Wardens, do they have what I am looking for?" asked Rincewind with betted breath.
"They do, a most curious creation, you are fortunate. For a reasonable price I can tell you which they were headed when they passed here several days ago."
Rincewind's sense of danger peaked once more at the mention of a deal but he could see no other option, except of course stalling while he made his mind up. "What are the terms of this agreement?"
Flemeth's smile looked ever more predatory "I give the information you need and in return, distant traveller, you tell me about your own magic and that of your companion. Portable luggage could be very useful to me in the near future and I do seem to keep losing my Grimoires. Now do we have deal? Some may call me The Woman of Many Years but my time is not endless."
Rincewind hesitated; he was not after all the most talented of Wizards. Well that was an understatement, damn the Octavo.
"Of course" said Flemeth, her smirk getting wider as she moved forward with swaying hips "I may have another way for you to get the knowledge you require. I guarantee you'll enjoy it… at least for a while."
If Rincewind wasn't terrified and suspicious already he would have been at the implications of the sentence, not that the older, dragon shape shifting, elder witch was entirely unattractive…
Focus! This is a trap, start thinking with your head!
Rincewind managed to pull himself together, more or less. Surely a cunning chap like him could find a brilliant way out of this situation?
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