Act One

Chapter Eleven

The Lit Lantern

Every day that went by without starting the Deep Roads expedition was another day they had to live in fear, looking over their shoulders for that inevitable Templar presence at their door. Another day they had to spend living with Gamlen. The sooner they got on with it the better. Paden just hoped they would be able to find this Gray Warden Varric had heard about, and that he would be able and willing to help them.

Lirene's Ferelden Imports was a small shop just above the open air market in Lowtown. That day it was packed with Fereldan refugees seeking help. Many of them were in dire situations, with nowhere to live and no work to be had. Some hadn't eaten in days, and others had just lost family members to sickness and exposure. Their cries for help and comfort cut deeply into Paden as she wove her way through the crowd, trying to reach the main counter at the back of the store. As much as she despised Gamlen, and hated living in his neglected mockery of a home, Paden had to feel grateful when faced with the reality of where she and her family could be if not for her uncle's grudging hospitality.

Lirene was a Fereldan woman who had come to Kirkwall before the Blight, and was established in the city. She had a heart for her suffering countrymen, and did all she could to offer them aid. She took up collections to buy them bread, and used her connections to find them work and lodging. But there was only so much one woman could do for so many, and her store was never empty of people looking for a last hope.

Paden caught Lirene's eye as she and her companions pushed their way to the counter. She felt a little guilty for demanding priority over those who needed dire aid, but she wasn't planning on staying long. All she needed was information, and then they would be on their way.

"If you're seeking aid," Lirene said to Paden, "Leave your name with my girl. We serve everyone here. No one came from Ferelden without trouble." She crossed her arms. "But I can't give priority to anyone who's already found the bare necessities."

"I need only information," Paden said. "I'm looking for a Fereldan Gray Warden, and I heard you might know where I could find one."

Lirene looked at her suspiciously. "Only Fereldan Gray Warden I know of is sitting on the throne. We're out of the Blight's path now. Why would you need a Warden?"

"He may have information I need," Paden explained, curious why Lirene cared.

A young woman standing nearby spoke up. "The healer was one of them once, wasn't he? A Warden?"

"Well he's not now," Lirene said, shooting a glare at the girl. "And busy enough without answering fool questions about it."

Paden looked from Lirene to the girl and back again. "Who are you protecting?" she asked.

"You see what our people face in Kirkwall," Lirene said. "They have no jobs, no homes. Most can barely buy bread. This healer…he serves them without thought for coin. He's closed their wounds, delivered their children. He's a good man. I won't lose him to the blighted Templars."

Paden arched her eyebrows in surprise. "You mean he's a mage?" The secrecy all made sense now, and Paden also realized that she was putting this Gray Warden in danger just by asking about him. But Lirene also said he was a healer, and a healer couldn't operate in complete secrecy.

"Would I stick my neck out for some purveyor of hen's-bane and leaches?" Lirene said defensively.

"Oh, perish the thought," Carver said, rolling his eyes. "Another delicate mage flower."

Paden shot a glare at her brother. Every time they encountered another mage, he grew a giant chip on his shoulder. Didn't he realize that his cutting remarks and insults hurt her more than whatever mage they were directed at? If he held such low opinions of mages in general, what did he truly think of his own sister? But that was an argument for another day.

"He doesn't want to be locked in the Gallows just for using the gifts the Maker gave him," Lirene said.

"I don't blame him," Paden said. "Your healer is in no danger from me."

"Right," Carver agreed. "Perfectly safe, if he cooperates."

Paden jabbed her elbow into her brother's side as hard as she could manage discreetly. Honestly, sometimes his attitude toward mages was bad enough she felt like she was living with a Templar.

"I suppose it isn't my secret to keep," Lirene said. "Anders has certainly been free enough with his services. Refugees in Darktown know, to find the healer, look for the lit lantern. If you have need enough, Anders will be within."

"The lit lantern," Paden said, and nodded. Obviously Lirene wasn't going to give them more detailed directions than that. But that was all right; Paden understood. "Thank you," she said.

As they were leaving the shop, Paden noticed a donations box for Fereldan refugees. She stood before it for a moment, considering all the coin they had just made that day. She dug out her coin purse and withdrew a few silver and put it in the box. Then she glanced at the others to see their reactions. Carver was acting like he didn't notice, and Varric gave her a wink.

Paden smiled and then went out onto the street. They were immediately approached by a group of armed men.

"We heard you in there, asking about the healer," their leader said in a Ferelden accent. "We know what happens to mages in this town. And it ain't going to happen to him."

Paden tensed, reaching her hand behind her back, gripping her staff lightly. She was about to answer the man when Carver beat her to it.

"You want him safe?" he said. "Don't pick fights with other Fereldans when the Templars are after us all."

"Fereldan?" the man said, dropping his threatening posture. "But you—your clothes…I figured you for a Kirkwaller, sorry." He bowed slightly. "Maker bless the rule of our King Alistair." And with that, he and his men walked away.

Carver looked at his sister. "You'd think this Gray Warden was some kind of hero or something the way people are protecting him."

"Healers are often viewed as heroes by those they help," Paden said. "The fact that he's a mage probably inspires the protection. They don't want their vulnerable healer harmed. I wonder how long he's been in Kirkwall. I've never heard of a mage healer with a clinic in the city. We sure could have used him back when we encountered that blood mage."

"Let's get to Darktown," Varric advised. "I think I know the place Lirene was talking about. The lit lantern. There's a door with a red paper lantern over it. I actually saw it when we were down there last night. The door is always closed, but the lantern is always lit. Might be the place we're looking for."

"Well, then lead the way, Varric," Paden said, gesturing to the road before them.

—

It turned out that the door with the lit lantern was just down the passage from the door to the Amell cellars. That would have been convenient had they known about the clinic the night before.

Paden tried the door handle. It wasn't locked, so she pushed it open and peered inside. She saw a large room with a high ceiling and cots lining the walls, some occupied by patients. Paden stepped into the room and the others followed her.

The atmosphere in the room was one of peaceful quiet. A couple nurses shuffled about, tending to this and that, speaking kind words to patients; a few small children played a game quietly on the floor beside the bed of a sick friend; a new mother nursed her baby in a corner. On the other side of the room an inviting fire blazed in a pit, surrounded by pots of water being kept warm. A few men lounged there, visiting in low tones. Each sported a cast or a bandage of some sort, but their spirits seemed high nonetheless.

Even though this place likely saw its moments of panic and even death, Paden could see why the locals protected it so faithfully. This was a place of healing. A place where the hurting could come and find peace. The vibe in the room drew Paden in, and for a moment she even forgot why they were there. In this place she felt like she almost belonged, as odd as that sounded, and she was in no hurry to leave.

Near the back of the clinic several people were bent over the bed of a small boy. One of them was obviously a mage, presumably the Gray Warden Anders. Blue-white light radiated from his hands as he hovered them over the boy's body, using his magical powers to draw out whatever sickness plagued the child.

Even though—according to her father's grimoire—Malcolm Hawke had been a very skilled healer, the occasional skinned knee or bruised forehead was all he had had the occasion to treat while she was growing up. And that in itself seemed like a lifetime ago. So as Paden moved closer, she watched this healer in fascination. His eyes shut tight in concentration, his brow furrowed, head tilted slightly as he searched out the disease within his patient. Paden could tell it was not an easy task for him. She had only ever done a small amount of healing, nothing that intense, yet she knew the effort he was putting forth. She knew how difficult healing magic was. The fact that this man spent his days exhausting himself for the good of others, apparently without any thought for reward, gave Paden huge respect for him.

After a minute the healer finally succeeded in drawing out the boy's sickness. The boy sat up while his mother tended to him.

The healer's body sagged, and he almost fell over from exhaustion. He turned away, bracing a hand against the wall while one of his helpers offered support. A sudden, strong feeling of empathy lodged in Paden's throat. She had the strangest desire to go over to the healer and rest an encouraging hand on his shoulder. She shook her head. What a silly thought.

The mother led her son away as Paden and the others approached. They stood next to the bed the boy had vacated, and waited for the healer to recover enough to notice them. Paden couldn't take her eyes off him; finding him irresistibly fascinating. He was tall, somewhat lanky, but even though his shoulders sagged, Paden could tell they were strong shoulders, well muscled and conditioned, as were his arms. Not the standard weakling mage that Carver had assumed back at Lirene's.

Abruptly the healer grabbed a mage staff that was leaning against the wall, and spun around to face them, holding his free hand out as if he were about to cast a spell. The glare in his brown eyes was one of warning, and his voice echoed slightly in the large room.

"I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation. Why do you threaten it?"

Paden raised her hands in a gesture of peace, her heart rate shooting up a notch or two. "I'm just here to talk," she said softly, keeping a sharp eye as she moved a little closer. The other mage was quick, and the power she could feel emanating from him was great. She hadn't felt that much power from another mage since her father. Strangely enough, Anders reminded her a lot of her father. Not necessarily in looks, since Anders was blond and clean-shaven, where Malcolm Hawke had had black hair and a beard. But Anders was tall like father had been, and he carried himself with the same sense of pride and strength. The look in his eyes spoke of years of experience and a hard life, but of determination as well. Paden had known that same look in her father's eyes.

"We're interested in getting into the Deep Roads," Varric explained. "Rumor has it that you were a Warden. Do you know a way?"

Anders put his hand down and relaxed his guard slightly as he regarded them. "Did the Wardens send you to bring me back?" he asked, his voice returning to a normal volume. "I'm not going. Those bastards made me get rid of my cat."

Paden arched her eyebrows. "Your cat?"

Anders nodded. "Poor Ser Pounce-a-lot. He hated the Deep Roads."

Paden smiled, trying not to giggle. She was not expecting him to stay something like that. "You had a cat called Ser Pounce-a-lot? In the Deep Roads?"

"He was a gift," Anders said, slightly defensive. "A noble beast. Almost got ripped in half by a Genlok once. He swatted the bugger on the nose." Anders smiled at the memory. "Drew blood too."

"So you came to Kirkwall just to escape the Wardens," Paden said, finally understanding why he was there and in hiding.

"You say that like it's a small thing," Anders said, frowning slightly. "Yes. I'm here because there is no Warden outpost, no Darkspawn, and a whole host of refugees to blend in with." He glanced briefly to the side. "And some reasons of my own."

"So you're not a Gray Warden anymore then?" Paden said. "I thought joining them was for life." Would he still be able to help them if he was no longer with the Wardens?

"That's only partly true," Anders said. "The hopelessly-tainted-by-the-Darkspawn and plagued-by-nightmares-of-the-Archdemon part don't go away." He gave Paden a wry smile. "But it turns out that if you hide well, you don't have to wear the uniform or go to the parties."

Paden smiled back. She couldn't help but like this Anders. He even had a bit of her father's sense of humor. She would love to sit and talk with him for a couple more hours, but remembered that they were there for a reason, and should probably get back to the business at hand.

"Well, don't worry, we're not here to bring you back," she said. "We're part of an expedition into the Deep Roads, actually. We were hoping you could provide us with any useful information. It could save lives."

Anders sighed softly. "I will die a happy man if I never have to think about the blighted Deep Roads again. You can't imagine what I've come through to get here. I'm not interested."

Paden's hopes sank. He would refuse to even offer information? It's not like she was asking him to go with them. But before she could resort to pleading with him, Anders spoke again.

"Although…a favor for a favor. Does that sound like a fair deal? You help me, I'll help you."

Paden hesitated. "You mean your information has a price then?"

Anders shook his head. "Not just information. I have a Warden map of the depths in this area. But yes, there is a price." He turned away, pacing slightly, for the first time his confidence faltering a little. "I came to Kirkwall to aid a friend. A mage. A prisoner in the wretched Gallows. The Templars learned of my plans to free him." He turned to face them again. "Help me bring him safely past them, and you shall have your maps."

Paden arched her eyebrows in surprise, not expecting it to be such a huge price. "You want to make your friend an apostate?" She had been born an apostate, so she had never had a choice how she lived her life. But why would anyone wish to have a life of running from the law?

"That's such a weighted term," Anders said, his voice hardening slightly, but he nodded. "Yes. Andraste said magic should serve man, not rule him. But I have yet to find a mage who wants to rule anything. It goes against no rule of the Maker for mages to live as free as other men."

The fervor with which he spoke, his obvious conviction, struck a resonating chord in Paden. He believed in liberty for mages, and was not afraid to aid and abet an apostate, to pluck a fellow mage directly from the lions den itself. Though, hiring complete strangers for help didn't strike Paden as the best idea. What if she and her companions had been sympathetic to the Chantry and its laws? Of course, Paden was a mage, and though that fact might not be obvious to just anyone, mages could not hide from each other. Paden could feel the power in Anders, and likewise he could feel hers. The mana they each drew from the fade, glowed like a beacon to the other, radiating outward and mingling in the air around them. Invisible, yet comfortingly palpable. While a fellow mage my not help Anders break the law, it was unlikely one would ever turn him in, and Anders was probably counting on that.

"I agree," Paden said. "Mages should be free. I was simply surprised by what you were asking of me."

Anders seemed surprised by her comment. "That's not usually the response I get," he admitted. "Perhaps we will work together better than I expected."

"Assuming I'm willing to work with you at all," Paden said. "You must be aware of what you're really asking of me." He was asking her to break the law, and possibly expose herself to Templar scrutiny, which was definitely the last thing any apostate needed.

"I do," Anders said with a nod. "But I may not be able to do this alone. You wanted my help; this is my price. You must decide how much those maps are worth to you."

Paden felt a nervous knot begin to form in her stomach. She glanced back at her companions, hoping to not have to make this decision on her own, since she was not the only one who would be put in danger; if they were caught, all of them would go to prison.

"How do we know you even have these maps?" Carver asked.

"You don't. But I have them. I have no use for them, and will gladly give them to you after Karl is safe."

"So you won't even show them to us?" Carver demanded. "We're risking a lot and we're just supposed to trust you?"

"I'm risking a lot just telling you about this," Anders countered, growing somewhat defensive against Carver's attitude. He looked at Paden instead. "I'm willing to give a little trust if you are."

"Sister, you can't possibly—"

Paden waved her hands to silence further argument. "I'm not going to agree to anything until I know more." She looked at Anders. "Why don't you tell me something about your friend?" Perhaps she would feel better about this whole thing if it wasn't all so vague.

"Fair enough," Anders said with a nod. "His name is Karl Thekla. He was sent here from Ferelden, when Kirkwall's Circle required new talent. His last letter said the Knight-Commander is turning the Circle into a prison. Mages are locked in their cells, refused appearances at court, made tranquil for the slightest crimes. I told him I would come."

"Are these accusations true?" Paden asked. She knew next to nothing about life in the Circle. But what Anders said seemed a bit extreme, even to her.

"Ask any mage in Kirkwall," Anders said. "Over a dozen were made tranquil just this year. The more people you ask, the worse the rumors become."

Paden didn't like the sound of that. She had never met a tranquil before, but her father had told her about them, since he had known some when he was in the Circle. A tranquil was a mage whose spirit had been cut off from the fade, leaving the mage as only a shell of their formal self, with no emotions or ambitions. They became essentially walking and talking bodies, but with nothing human left. The Templars made mages tranquil if there was reason to believe they weren't strong enough to survive an encounter with a demon in the fade, or if there was suspicion that one might be a blood mage. But it was always used as a last resort. Tranquil were supposed to be few and far between. The exception, not the rule. Or at least that's what her father always told her. He had only ever known three, and he had lived in the Circle for many years. Over a dozen tranquil in one year sounded a lot more like the rule rather than the exception, and that was a scary thought.

If Anders' friend was in danger of being made tranquil, then Paden wanted to help save him if she could. No one deserved such a fate. "What do the Templars know of your plans?" she asked.

"I don't know," Anders admitted. "I have been exchanging notes with Karl through a maid servant in the Gallows. Then the letters stopped coming."

"So, how, exactly, do you plan to break him out of the Gallows?" Paden asked. "You can't exactly just waltz in past the courtyard any time you like, let alone waltzing back out again."

"I'm hoping it won't come to that," Anders said. "I sent Karl a message to meet me in the chantry tonight. Maker willing he'll be there, alone." Anders clenched his jaw and his fists. "But if there are Templars with him, I swear I will free him from them, whatever the cost."

The nervous knot in Paden's stomach grew a little larger. "I'm…not sure about attacking Templars," she said. That's the last thing they needed. "I might rather take my chances with the Darkspawn."

"If we fight the Templars it is because they decide that anyone who befriends a mage deserves death without question," Anders said, his voice wavering slightly.

"Doesn't fighting them prove their point?" Carver asked. "They don't need more reasons to hunt us."

Paden had to admit that Carver's point was valid. Helping a fellow mage escape was dangerous enough. Fighting Templars seemed like suicide.

Just then one of the healer's aids came over and whispered something in Anders' ear. Anders nodded and sent the aid away.

"These are my terms," he said firmly to Paden. "If you want my aid with your expedition meet me in the chantry tonight. Maker willing we'll all leave free." He glanced over his shoulder. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I am needed elsewhere." He bowed slightly to Paden, and then went to the other side of the room to tend to a patient.

Paden turned around to face her brother and Varric. "Well?" she said.

"We need to talk about this," Carver said. "Somewhere else."

Paden nodded her agreement and led the way out of the clinic.

"You can't possibly be seriously considering helping this mage," Carver said as they walked through Darktown.

"Why not?" Paden asked.

Carver laughed incredulously. "Are you kidding? I can think of a dozen reasons why not. Not the least of which is the possibility of fighting Templars. Or did you not hear that part?"

"I heard it just fine, Carver," Paden said. "But what other choice do we have? He has the maps we need, and he won't give them to us unless we help him." That's what it came down to in the end, just like Anders had said. How much were the maps worth to them?

"We could just force him to give them to us."

Paden stopped walking and faced her brother. "Really? That's the better alternative? You worry me sometimes, Carver." She started walking again. "The healer's friend could be made tranquil, we should help him. Chances are there will be no Templars involved."

"Chances are there will," Carver argued.

"The only way I'm fighting Templars, Carver, is if they attack me first. I'm not signing up to hunt them down, don't worry. It's not like we have any other options."

"I hate to say it, Junior," Varric said, "But I have to agree with your sister. We don't have a plan B at this point."

Carver scratched his head and sighed. "Fine," he said. "But if this goes wrong, I'm blaming you." He pointed his finger at Paden.

"You always do, Brother," Paden said in resignation.

—

A/N: A big thank you to all my readers and reviewers! You guys keep me inspired to continue on with this story, even when I'm in a stuck place.