Chapter 2
"Happiness is fragile. Nothing can be built upon it that will last."
—The Qun, Canto Unknown
Líadan
The shout of dismay from Cáel came as no surprise to Líadan. Cáel had started in on teasing his sister before they'd even had their morning meal, and he'd not let up throughout the day. Coupled with the recent spate of unseasonably cold, heavy rains and the excessive mud churned up in the yards, which meant they spent more time cooped up indoors than running off energy outside, the two children had been in rather foul moods. Nuala had given up and kicked them out into the gardens, rain and mud be damned, and Líadan had been about to do just the same with them. Though the rain had lightened to a mist, the children would've remained undaunted even had it not.
Thus it wasn't unexpected when she heard the result of Ava finally losing her temper at her brother and retaliating not a short time later. Líadan, Revas loping by her side, rounded the corner to find Cáel on his backside in the mud, his dark blue eyes wide with a sort of surprise Líadan had never seen in him. As he tried to regain his footing, she noticed marks on his shoes that looked remarkably like scorch marks, if she hadn't known better. Near her brother, Ava's eyes were no less wide, and her own surprise was laced with a good amount of panic.
No.
A frisson of cold raced from Líadan's chest to her toes, taking with it the scant hope she'd carried since Ava had been born. It was too soon, too early, she was only six, and it shouldn't have happened at all, and she desperately wanted it to be a mistake, that there was another plausible explanation other that the frighteningly obvious. Líadan looked around, searching for witnesses who could reassure her that she'd mistakenly assumed the cause of the results in front of her. Kennard wasn't around, which wasn't unusual when the children were on palace grounds, given the Royal Guard's presence throughout. Nuala was there, standing near some of the shrubs with leaves the tired green of late summer. Her bias could be different, Líadan thought as she briefly looked away from her children and toward their nurse. Maybe she'd witnessed something else, an explanation that could erase Líadan's panic.
But Nuala's eyes were deeply troubled as she stared at the children. Feeling an alternate explanation slipping through her fingers, Líadan turned back to ask for answers. When she did, she found Ava helping her brother to his feet, Revas behind Ava to keep the girl from falling backwards, and Cáel doing everything he could to avoid eye contact with any of them. That, in of itself, was unusual, because he often defiantly maintained eye contact when challenged. It was one of the few quirks he'd inherited from his natural mother, Morrigan. Fortunately, it was held in balance by his Theirin inability to lie.
Líadan looked down to where his eyes were focused, only to discover he now had bare feet, his toes squirming in the cold mud. "Where are your shoes?"
He looked up quickly, the surprise gone from his eyes, and replaced by a feigned innocence. "Hm? What?"
"Shoes. You had them on a minute ago." Cáel had managed to lose several things over short course of his seven years of life, but he'd not yet lost a pair of shoes, and never anything so quickly.
"Did I?"
"Your toes would be frozen by now, otherwise." And he had to be getting colder by the second, considering his entire back was coated in frigid mud. If the situation hadn't been so dire due to what she might have just witnessed, she already would've sent him inside to change.
He glanced at his feet, as if assessing, and his rusty colored hair tumbled back over his forehead to cover his furrowed brow. "Probably."
"Probably." Líadan crossed her arms, readying for the interrogation her children were insisting upon if she ever wanted to uncover the truth. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"
"We fought."
"You don't say."
"I got mad and pushed him," said Ava, who never volunteered anything, and Líadan was starting to wonder if these were really her children.
"You aren't leaving anything out, are you?"
Ava closed her mouth, her light green eyes darting away. Cáel watched for a moment, and then faced their mother, his mouth set in the kind of determination he got when he and Ava closed ranks and covered for each other. It was behavior both heartwarming and infuriating. At the moment, it was more the last and less the first. "Well, you came over," said Cáel.
She would have to split them up and question them separately if she were to get real answers. It was the only way in situations like this, where their usually tumultuous sibling relationship gained a startling amount of camaraderie. And Revas wasn't helping at all, letting Ava cling to her without trying to get her to play, which only provided further evidence that something was amiss. "Creators, just—"
Shouts and the squelching pound of boots on sodden ground came from the other side of the garden. Líadan dropped the questioning of her wayward children, told them to get behind her, and then drew her sword as she peered through the line of shrubs. She cursed inwardly at not having her bow, but carrying it around the compound and palace wasn't practical. At least she had her sword, which served to channel the small amount of magic she had into something she could use to hit things, sometimes even with lightning through the blade.
Magic. There was too much of it around. Just last week, Teagan had expressed concerns about Rowan. And now… wasn't the time to think about it.
Revas kept her growls low as she wedged herself in between Líadan and the children. The shouting hadn't stopped, and she still couldn't make out what was being said. Either someone had gotten past the palace's defenses and were really noisy assassins, or someone had pulled a prank on a new guard. No matter which, she had no intention of being caught unprepared.
Nuala appeared beside her, her own dagger drawn and ready. "If anyone's come for them, they won't be leaving. Not with the both of us here to stop it."
Inwardly, Líadan smiled. In addition to being the children's nurse, Nuala was one of her closest friends, and cared for the children as if they were her own. She also wasn't a woman to be trifled with, for she knew how to properly wield the dagger she held. Her cousin, Rhian, also a Grey Warden, had trained her.
"Nan! I didn't even know you had a dagger!" said Ava.
"Be quiet," said Cáel. "You want to lead them right to us?"
"You don't even know if they're mean people."
"It isn't like Mamae draws her sword on nice people."
"I've seen her draw it on Papa, so—"
"We were sparring," said Líadan. "Now, hush, both of you." Of course the two of them couldn't decide to reign in their chattiness now instead of earlier, not with the father they had. But her concern had already started to abate as she recognized Kennard's voice amongst whoever was running their way. While sprinting guards didn't bode well, it meant there wasn't an immediate danger about to burst from the foliage.
Kennard even went around the shrubs instead of through them, which was another good sign. Immediate danger wouldn't warrant treating the gardens with delicacy. The bodyguard gave the children a reassuring smile, tight as it was, before he addressed Líadan. "There was an attack outside the compound," he said as he motioned with his hands for the royal guards with him to set a perimeter. "We aren't sure who the target was, and the Silver Order was still dealing with them when I left. What's strange is that it was a bunch of dwarves who were doing the attacking. Warden Oghren called them Carta. You ever hear a thing like that in Denerim?"
Líadan frowned. "In Orzammar or Kirkwall, maybe. Amaranthine, sometimes, but Hildur's presence curbs the Carta's own." She didn't mention that Hildur's idea of stopping the Carta had a lot to do with Hildur's propensity for conscripting the offending Carta thugs. It was remarkably effective, yet did fine work to illustrate that the Wardens would take anybody with the necessary skills. Former dusters, Hildur had explained, always had the abilities if they survived to adulthood. Sigrun had readily agreed, and Líadan's lone venture with Sigrun into Dust Town had reinforced it. "Either way, if it's the Carta, then I doubt they're after us."
"I'm not taking any chances."
"Kennard, you're paid to not take chances," said Nuala.
"And the Crown's gold buys a lot of vigilance." Then he inclined his head toward the two muddied children. "And the both of them warrant it, I'll grant you."
There was another commotion at the other end of the gardens, and shouts traded between guards as a new guard ran in their direction. Kennard had a surly look to give to the young Silver Order guard who trotted up behind him, possibly because the younger man had the audacity to not appear out of breath.
"Senior Warden, Guard-Lieutenant," said the young guard, "there was an attack outside the Warden compound when a group of Wardens left through the front door."
"We know," said Kennard. "Get on with it."
"We killed them quick, with no injuries to us or the Wardens. We assumed they were after the Prince, but the witnesses said they were talking about someone named Hawke. Warden-Commander Hildur said it was the Carta who'd attacked, and that they were after Warden Bethany, not Prince Malcolm." He took a breath, his sprint and the delivery of his report finally catching up with him. "The Warden-Commander sent me to tell Senior Warden Líadan that she wants to see her in the compound's library as soon as possible."
Líadan held back sigh, frustrated that duty meant not being able to deal with whatever had transpired between Cáel and Ava. Even in garrison, the Wardens demanded a great deal of attention. "Tell her I'll be there in a few minutes," she said to the guard, who thumped his chest in salute and ran off.
"Guard-Lieutenant?" Nuala said to Kennard, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"He's new." Kennard shrugged. "Gets all fancy with the actual titles. Soon enough, he'll just refer to everyone as 'ser.' Just has to get the whole 'working with the Wardens and the royal family' stars out of his eyes. He's a fine warrior, though. Makes the adjustment bearable."
"What about the new guards who aren't?"
"They get sent to Guard-Captain Kylon. He's got far more patience than anyone has a right to."
Though she recognized the humor in the comment, Líadan didn't feel it. She willed herself not to betray the worry she carried, and then turned to Nuala. "I'll need to go." Her children had to be safe with her. Nuala had been raised alongside an apostate and had kept her secret even from the Wardens until they actually met Rhian. The conscription that followed had nothing to do with the revelation to the Wardens, however. That was placed squarely at the Chantry's feet. "I don't know how long the meeting will be."
Nuala met Líadan's steady gaze with one of her own. "No need to worry. I've got them, like always." The understanding was unspoken, yet implicit in her eyes. Nothing would be discussed and no secrets would be revealed, at least not until Líadan had a chance to address it, herself.
She nodded to Nuala, and looked over at the children. "I'll be back later. Try not to track mud everywhere." Then she turned her look to Revas. "And you, don't encourage them. You're just as bad."
Revas barked, either in agreement, or possibly to relay her objection to the near-insult, and then ran circles around Cáel and Ava, who appeared to have the same measure of indignity.
Then Líadan headed for the compound, where she'd already spent most of her day. While she had agreed some time ago that for Cáel and Ava's combined safety and need for schooling they would live in the palace, she hadn't agreed to spend more time there than absolutely necessary. That life wasn't hers, not as a whole. Only a small piece of it was. When not with her children, the majority of her daytime hours were spent in the compound or on training exercises. Malcolm tried to do the same, but he often got pulled into the same meetings as Alistair, even though he was merely the King's brother, and not the King. But Sylaise forbid, if anything happened to Alistair, Malcolm would be a co-regent with Anora for Dane, until the heir apparent reached his majority. It meant that Malcolm had to know the same current information and future plans as Anora and Alistair did, and to voice his own agreement and disagreement on policies in the hopes of preventing any differences of opinion, should the worst happen.
He hated it, but understood the need and tolerated it. Only when merciless teasing came from the likes of Fergus and Teagan did he really let loose with his frustrations. It was understandable.
She caught up with Sigrun in the main hall, and together they went into the library. Malcolm and Bethany were already there, with Bethany seated and frowning, and Malcolm perusing the rows of books.
"I had no idea you were dealing with the Carta," Sigrun said to Bethany as she took a seat next to her.
Bethany's frown only deepened. "I'm not. Haven't. I never have. My sister, however, well. There's a strong possibility, but I don't know why they'd come after me. It's not like I'm any easier a target than she is."
"I didn't even know the Carta had a presence in Denerim." Malcolm abandoned his browsing and walked to where the others sat. "If they did, they were remarkably quiet about it. Well, had been, considering their attack in broad daylight, right in front of the compound. I think only an attack in the marketplace would've had more witnesses." He dropped into the space next to Líadan on the short sofa nominally used for reading, but normally used for naps by various Wardens. "First they thought they were after me, which sent Kennard sprinting for the palace. I bet he'll never agree to help train the Silver Order again."
"I still don't know why they'd want to kill me in the first place," said Bethany.
"They didn't want you dead," Hildur said as she walked into the room and quickly closed the door behind her. She had a scrap of paper in her hand that she showed the small group. "They had a note on them."
"Then why attack?" asked Bethany.
"They wanted your blood."
"You're really not making a lot of sense," said Líadan.
"No, probably not." Hildur tossed the paper onto the low table before climbing into a free chair. The way she settled back gave the appearance of ease, but the tightness around her eyes said otherwise. "The Grey Wardens have a secret prison. It's in a rift in the Vimmark Mountains, nowhere near any of the passes. It's sealed at several levels by the life essence and blood of an untainted mage. Anyone can go in, but nothing gets out, which is the intent. You go inside, and you're never seen again." Hildur looked directly at Bethany. "Remember how Stroud left you and Anders outside what he said was an abandoned Grey Warden fortress? It was the prison."
"So they knew they weren't going to come out?" asked Bethany.
"Mostly. They knew that someone had to check on the seals. If they had been weakened enough, they could have left, and then the process would start to find a new mage to help strengthen them. If they were still strong, they would've been trapped, and left to stand guard until they were killed."
Bethany shook her head slowly, her eyes on her fingers as they fidgeted. "Still doesn't make it better."
"Didn't say it did." Hildur offered her a slight smile to show her words weren't meant to be unkind.
"Why do the Wardens have a prison?" asked Malcolm.
Bethany held up one of her hands to stop him from continuing to talk, and her head snapped around to look at Hildur. "Wait. We haven't gotten the answer to the specific question of why the Carta wants my blood. You hinted at it, but you haven't said."
Hildur sighed, muttered something about Warden secrets and stupidity, and then answered, "The people who want to break the seals need your blood to do so, because the last mage to redo the seals was Malcolm Hawke."
"My father was a blood mage?"
As Hildur went on to explain the role Bethany's father had played in helping to seal the Warden prison and the Architect-like creature held there, Líadan gave them only part of her attention. She didn't particularly need the details about what the Wardens and Malcolm Hawke had done before she'd even been born. It was an explanation Bethany needed, certainly, given that Bethany still had problems with blood magic. Líadan wasn't bothered, not with having been raised to believe the danger with magic rested mostly with the mage, and not the source of power for the magic. It was one of the many differences between what the Chantry's Circle of Magi taught, and what Dalish Keepers taught their apprentices. Líadan could only hope that her daughter would learn the less restrictive way, somehow, if what she'd witnessed this morning had been what she assumed.
If it was, they were lucky enough that Dane hadn't been present and playing with his cousins when the incident occurred. While he'd been around enough mages growing up as to not be terribly bothered by them, he was horrible at keeping secrets. Without a second thought, he'd have ended up telling Alistair and Anora what he'd seen. Not out of spite or malice, but because he liked to talk. It would have quickly brought the problem to light, before Líadan even had a chance to determine if there was a problem. She wondered how long it would take to convince herself that her daughter was fine, and they had nothing to worry about regarding her having the Gift. Either way, once she had a serious talk with each child, she'd have to tell Malcolm. She didn't look forward to it, and wanted to spare him the worry for as long as she could. He agonized over the potential for magic nearly as much as she did. While he couldn't truly feel the betrayal to the Dalish that would plague Líadan if the magic were there, he did share her fear of what would happen when it was discovered, because the Chantry would find out. When—not if—they did, they would insist Ava be remanded to their custody. They might even preemptively insist they take Cáel, as well, given his heritage. They'd already tried more than once, when he wasn't even a year old. If they found out his sister was a mage, they'd try it again.
But none of that would happen so long as Ava didn't have magic, and so Líadan continued to cling to the slim possibility. She could figure it out over the next couple of days, and then deal with whatever outcome she found.
Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention—Hildur had given Malcolm a small, leather-bound journal she'd taken from her pocket. Then Líadan realized she hadn't been paying the least amount of attention, because she had no idea why Hildur would be doing so.
"You'll all need to leave tomorrow," said Hildur.
Líadan stared, taken by surprise that they were being sent on a mission. She'd assumed it had been taken care of with the Carta having been killed, and that Wardens from the Free Marches could handle the issue with the seals at the prison. But Hildur was right. Others Wardens wouldn't have dealt with the Architect, and it would take too long to send messages to them, even if they had. So it had to be them, and it did everything to ramp up her anxiety over Ava. She wouldn't have time to sort things out, to protect her if anything had happened. Or if something did happen while she and Malcolm were gone, what decisions would be made without them being present? What if she were dragged off by templars? If something happened in public and templars responded, nothing else could be done. When they returned, they would have to—she didn't know what she'd do if she found out the Chantry had taken her child, or Creators forbid, both of her children. She had to find a way to ensure their protection to make sure the worst didn't occur.
Hildur mistook Líadan's look as an objection. "It's unfortunate and sudden, I know, especially since you'll both need to go with Sigrun and Bethany. But, like I said, this ancient magister is much like the Architect, maybe even more powerful. Since it's Bethany's family, she's going. Sigrun's dealt with the Mother, and you and Malcolm have dealt with the Architect, so I need each of you to go." She pointed at the journal Malcolm was thumbing through, scratching various notations with a stick of graphite bought during one of their trips to Orzammar. "There's also a rogue Grey Warden you'll need to track down and deal with. Her name is Janeka, and she's apparently gained some sort of respect for Corypheus. I'm not sure why, but most Wardens who've been following her case on the order of the First Warden believe that Janeka spent far too much time studying the prison and Corypheus. She'd been commissioned to do so, but probably got drawn into whatever tricked the early Wardens into stupidly keeping Corypheus alive. Last thing we heard was that she was going to investigate inside the prison. A few people heard her mention that she was thinking of freeing him, which was the other thing Stroud was looking into. Given that the Carta who attacked have elements of the taint in them, and that they spoke of breaking the seals, she's probably directing them. The Wardens want her stopped."
"Tie her up and carry her out kind of stopped?" asked Malcolm.
"If you think you can accomplish stopping her without bloodshed, feel free to give it a try," said Hildur. "But I suspect you'll be out of luck." She stood from the chair, looking slightly less harried than she'd been when she came into the library. "I'm going to go arrange berths for all of you on a ship leaving port as early tomorrow morning as possible. I'll send a messenger around once I know the time and the ship. Now, go eat, go pack, make your farewells. You know, the usual. I think there should be food left downstairs, even though we talked through dinner."
Sigrun scowled. "Nug snugglers. That means the dregs." She slid a glance over at Malcolm. "How about you arranging something from the palace kitchens, instead? They probably haven't been wiped out by some forty-odd hungry Wardens."
He smiled and stood up, tucking the graphite stick into the pouch at his belt, and the journal along with it. "I suppose I could do that. Come on, then, before it's too late."
As they walked from the compound to the palace's kitchens, Malcolm gave Líadan more than one look of concern. With Bethany and Sigrun trailing behind them, he wouldn't outright ask her what was going on, but Líadan could tell he'd noticed her lack of attention during the meeting. Usually, it was Malcolm who let his mind wander, and not her, which meant the role reversal would bring questions. She'd have to figure out how to control her reactions better, to keep her thoughts from surfacing near those who could tell she was bothered by something. If he asked, she didn't want to lie—especially not to him—but she didn't want him burdened with this, not yet. One of them should have freedom from the worry, for as long as it was feasible. Or at the very least, until there were certain answers to be had.
It wasn't until they were on their way back to the wing of the palace where their rooms were—along with the children's, the nurses, the bodyguards, and Alistair and Anora, but Líadan refused to refer to it as the royal family's wing—did Malcolm ask.
"So, what's on your mind?"
She sighed, not having come up with a good answer. "Just… give me a few days, then I can talk about it."
"Not anything urgent, is it? You know, like ancient magisters about to be set free sort of thing?"
"Not urgent, no." She supposed that it wasn't urgent enough to make a fuss about not leaving for the mission, not so long as she could plan for any contingencies. Part of her looked forward to the mission. If she hadn't happened on the scene earlier that day, she would be reasonably happy about it. "Nothing that absolutely has to be discussed before we leave."
He grinned. "It'll be like an adventure! Sort of. I mean, darkspawn won't be fun, and neither will going into the Deep Roads. And Kirkwall isn't terribly pleasant, either. But I can't remember the last time we got to do more than a training run in the Deep Roads. Certainly not an extended trip, and definitely not both of us." A frown threatened his smile, and he scratched at his chin, and then frowned at the dark smudges the graphite had left on his fingers. "I hope Cáel and Ava won't be too bothered by our both being gone."
"They'll have Nuala to watch over them." Nuala. Líadan was fairly certain she could be absolutely trusted. The fact that she hadn't yet spoken about this afternoon to anyone was a good sign. "She'll watch over them."
"I know, but… I don't know. I feel a little guilty, because I'm looking forward to not having them along. Having actual time to be an adult doing adult Warden things, without having to worry about facing two unruly kids the next day."
"They aren't unruly."
"They are when it's just after dawn, if only because they tend to be awake. No idea where they got that from, because it's neither of us."
She laughed, recalling her mother's consternation at her father for loving the early morning. "My father insisted on getting up just before dawn. He claimed to love the peacefulness."
"I bet he only claimed that because it meant he wouldn't hear a certain little girl chattering away."
"I never chattered." She bumped into him to help make her point. "That's you, Alistair, and Dane."
"Maker's breath, can that boy talk. You'd think he got it from both sides, but Loghain was as laconic as they come, and Anora isn't much better, not with folks who aren't family or friends. At least Callum seems to have mastered the Mac Tir economy of speech. He's pretty quiet for a four-year-old, compared to Dane at that age. I still say Alistair should've been punished with a second son as chatty as the first for what he did with the name. 'No, I totally didn't name him after you, except I did, and you hate it and it's awesome that you do.'" Once he was done imitating his brother, he scowled. "Which reminds me, I should probably tell Alistair that we're leaving. Aw, I'll miss the meetings in the morning. Such a loss." He let go of pretending to be sad and raised his eyebrows at her. "See you later? I'll help with the packing after I talk to Alistair. Since they'll be up, I can say goodbye to Cáel and Ava in the morning."
She nodded. "That's fine."
He took a step away, and then stopped to look at her. "You're sure you don't want to talk about whatever it is before we go?"
"I'm sure." Líadan gave him as reassuring a smile as she could, but knew it wasn't enough. "It can wait."
His look was dubious, but he didn't press further. "If you say so."
"However…you've got marks on your face." She walked the short distance to him, reached up, and tried to rub away the smudge his fingers had left on his chin. "And they don't seem to be going anywhere." Really, she'd only succeeded in making it worse.
"I think it makes me look scholarly." Then he reached out with his still-smudged thumb and brushed it over the vallaslin on her forehead. "Oh, messed up your tattoo, but I think it suits you." Before she could even think about retaliating, he kissed her, and then ran off to find his elder brother.
Frustrating as Malcolm could be, she had to admit he was good at making her feel better, even when he didn't know specifically what was bothering her. Spirits lifted just enough to feel slightly optimistic, she went to search for Nuala.
Líadan found her in the sitting room attached to the nurse's own room. It often doubled as a playroom of sorts, with Cáel and Ava constantly underfoot, along with Dane and Callum almost as much. Only after the children had gone to bed did Nuala find any peace. Often, Líadan believed Nuala had the harder task when she had charge of the children so much. Killing darkspawn seemed to take far less energy than keeping safe four children who were too energetic and curious for their own good.
The door had been left unbarred, and she'd only knocked once when Nuala told her to come in. Líadan practically crept inside, still struggling with the matter of trust. It wasn't that she didn't trust Nuala—she absolutely did, every day, in entrusting her with the lives of her children. But given what they might have witnessed earlier, they were verging on a different sort of trust altogether.
"I was wondering when you'd come to talk," Nuala said quietly. "The business with the Wardens took a while, didn't it?"
"It did. There's—we're being sent to Kirkwall for a couple weeks."
"When are you leaving?"
"Tomorrow morning."
Nuala's brows drew together. "Bit fast, isn't it? Then again, that's what usually happens. Whole lot of boring, and then you lot are sent off to save Thedas, I suppose. Then you come back and it's all dull and boring afterward." She put down the mending she'd been doing and gave Líadan a steady look. "Not this time, though."
"No." Líadan had to resist looking between Nuala and the door, almost panicky at the thought of Nuala's loyalty not extending as far as she knew, or as far as she hoped.
Nuala leaned forward, forearms on the tops of her legs, her gaze never wavering. "What if neither of you come back?"
To be fair, it was something Líadan thought about every time she and Malcolm were sent out together on forays in the Deep Roads. While it wasn't a particularly dangerous or arduous exercise to a group of Grey Wardens, it wasn't without its danger. Anything could happen in the Deep Roads, including losing most or all of a group. There were plans in the event that the worst happened. Nuala would stay on, as would Kennard, and they'd both go to Highever with the children, where Fergus and his wife would look after them. For Fergus to take them had been the plan for as long as they'd had to make such plans. His wife had been added a couple years before, but she was no less capable and just as trusted.
Things had changed, and the plans no longer suited, not with Ava's new—maybe it wasn't that, but the trouble Líadan had with breathing steadily proved her heart believed otherwise. She hadn't felt this disconcerted since she'd found out she would be having her daughter, and now she didn't have a Keeper to speak to. She didn't even have Wynne, who was off on some sort of trip for the Circle. Of course, Nuala was here, but it wasn't fair to place her in a position where she would have to choose between loyalties. However, there was a chance that Nuala had already chosen, and hadn't yet told anyone.
"Your loyalty," Líadan said, thinking the question ridiculous even as she asked it, yet feeling that it had to be asked, "is it to the children or the Crown?"
"I think you know the answer by now."
She had a hard time maintaining eye contact with Nuala, partly because she felt awful at questioning her loyalty at all, and partly because she was afraid of the answer. "I think I do, but I need to hear it."
Nuala let out an exasperated sigh as she half-rolled her eyes. "The children, you daft woman. Of course it's the children. And you and Malcolm, if there are any other ridiculous doubts rattling around in that head of yours."
Relief passed through her body with one fear of many having been allayed. She nodded at Nuala, and gave her a wan smile. "Sorry, I just—this is different. More than life and death."
"I know. What's more, I understand."
Líadan nodded. Nuala did, she knew. Her cousin had been an apostate hidden by the family for several years. "I had to be sure. I'm scrambling, trying to figure out what—I just don't know." Then she did, every safe harbor rolling to the forefront of her mind. "If we don't come back, you'll have to bring them to the Vigil, to Hildur. After that, it's likely they and you will have to go travel more. They'll eventually have to go to the Dalish, either Lanaya's clan or my grandfather's." She mulled over how that could even be done. "Possibly the Mahariel if the others can't be found."
"Your grandfather would take them in? Even with how he is about the elf-blooded?"
"If anything, his desire not to cross Asha'belannar will compel him to agree. And if I'm gone, he'll probably also feel compelled to keep my children safe, especially from the Chantry." She pursed her lips. "Mostly from the Chantry. I'd honestly rather Lanaya, though. Her clan would be more accommodating to them. While Emrys' clan wouldn't wish them harm, I'm fairly certain it would be a cold reception and upbringing. Lanaya's clan would be more like a family." An ache had settled in her chest, at having to discuss these things, to discuss what would be done for her children if she were permanently gone. They would be out of her hands, beyond her ability to care for them and protect them, and they were so young.
It helped that Nuala could be so matter-of-fact with the details of how things would get done. "How would I get them there? Hildur, I take it?"
"She would have enough resources to help you, and she wouldn't be bound by Chantry laws like anyone else here. I don't want to take the chance that anyone will feel obligated—or forced—to send Ava to the Circle."
There was a pause, and then Nuala asked, "So you believe you saw it?"
She didn't want to. There was still enough time for denial. "I don't know. But if I'm not around, and neither is Malcolm, I'm not taking any chances."
"And if you do come back? What will you do?
"Pray to the Creators that it was a trick of the eye, and nothing more."
Nuala sat up, looking entirely unconvinced. Líadan didn't feel convinced, either, but it was all she had. Then Nuala nodded, as if she understood, and glanced in the direction of Ava's room. "I know you probably don't want to wake her up, but—"
"I should talk to her," said Líadan. It was a conversation she'd never wanted to have. "And I'll speak with Cáel, too." She wouldn't leave it to Nuala. While her friend and the children's nurse was more than capable, it wasn't her responsibility. It wasn't her magic Líadan's child might have inherited.
"If you're sure."
A rueful laugh bubbled up Líadan's throat, and she barely kept it in. "This is the sort of thing where you can never be sure, but it has to be done." Her mind focused on what she would say, it wasn't until her hand was on the door latch that she said, "Thank you."
"It's a privilege," said Nuala. "I thank them. Usually. When they aren't muddy."
Another burden lifted, Líadan was able to share in a soft laugh. Then she stole to the next door down, where her daughter slept. Except when she went inside, though it was quiet, Ava wasn't asleep. It was another sign that something was wrong, because Ava almost always slept well. Cáel tended to overthink things at times, and when he was troubled or stymied by a particular puzzle, his mind would keep mulling it over until it was solved, and then he'd sleep. Ava, however, tended to be able to set things aside, get a good night's sleep, and then tackle her troubles when fresh. Yet here Ava was, acting like her brother, awake when she should have been asleep. Her finger idly twirled in one of the curls of her light auburn hair, something she only did when anxious. Given what had happened, it would've been more worrisome if she wasn't anxious, but it still pained Líadan to see her daughter like this.
Ava stayed seated, leaning against her headboard, quilts piled on her lap, as Líadan approached the bed. When Líadan ran a hand through Ava's hair, the girl moved over, a clear invitation for her mother to sit. Líadan didn't decline, and as soon as she was leaning against the headboard herself, Ava leaned against her.
"I can't talk about it," said Ava.
"That's all right," said Líadan. "It isn't something we have the time for right now. Whatever happened, it would take a lot of talking to figure out."
Ava shifted to look up at Líadan. "How come we don't have time?"
"Commander Hildur is sending your father and I to Kirkwall tomorrow morning."
"Does it have to do with the people who tried to hurt Wardens?"
"Very much."
Ava nodded. "All right." Then she picked at the edge of her quilt, working free one of the stray threads. "What should… what should I do, while you and Papa are gone?"
Líadan pulled her closer, wishing she could take the quaver out of her daughter's voice. "I'm not saying there's been magic done, but should there have been, it should not be done at all while we're gone, especially not in front of anyone, especially not templars, or even your uncle Alistair. Pretty much everyone, really. I'm not saying you have, or that you can, and you don't have to tell me right now, but if you can, don't. It isn't safe. Whatever's going on, hold onto it until we get back. Then we can figure everything out."
Ava leaned more heavily against her, and when she spoke, her words were heavy with sleepiness. "Can we?"
"I think so."
Another nod, and then Ava was asleep, the quilt sliding from her slack hands, the same as the problem that had briefly stolen her sleep. Líadan slipped out of the bed, put Ava down so that she wasn't in a weird position, and covered her up with the quilt. Then she kissed her on the forehead, hoping it wouldn't be the last time, and wished that she could feel the confidence in herself that Ava had in her.
In her other child's room, Cáel was awake like she'd expected. He'd forgone his bed and opted for the chair next to the window that overlooked the courtyard. When Líadan stepped inside and closed the door, he briefly looked her way, but returned his gaze to the window.
His pointed question wasn't the one she'd expected. "What's a Tranquil?"
The intrusion of such a barbaric thing put a sudden lurch in her step as she struggled for an answer that wouldn't do him a disservice. "What makes you ask?"
"I met one today. He was with one of the new court healers. The healer would only tell me that they'd taken away his magic. But he wasn't… there was something missing, not just the magic. I know lots of people who don't have magic, like me or like Papa, and we aren't like that man was. It's like he was empty."
"Because he is." In something as important, as dire as this, she couldn't afford to be anything less than honest, even though he'd learned about the Tranquil today, of all days. "When the Chantry takes magic away from a mage, it takes away their ability to feel things, on the inside. They aren't who they were, and never will be again. If you take away a mage's magic, everything they are goes with it."
Cáel had turned to face her as she explained, a mixture of disgust and astonishment in his eyes. "Why would they do that?"
"A lot of reasons, none of them good. Your uncle would be able to explain it better."
"Do the Dalish do that to any of their mages?"
"No. Never." It was another reason why Ava would be safe with the Dalish if she had magic. The Dalish would never rip someone's very being away from them, just for the crime of being a mage. The Gift was never taken. "I didn't even know it could be done until after I joined the Wardens."
None of her answers seemed to suit him, and he remained unsettled and returned to gazing out the window. But finding out about Tranquility, no matter what one's age, was an unsettling thing. Especially when it was on a day when one found out that their only sister might be a mage. "About today—"
Cáel crossed his arms and pulled them tight to his chest, but his defensiveness couldn't cover his unusual behavior. "I'm not telling." Not present was the usual note of defiance that accompanied statements like that from him. That told her more than anything he could have said out loud.
"You don't need to tell me anything right now. What I need you to do is watch over your sister, and not tease her. If what I think happened today did happen, you'll both need to make sure it doesn't happen again, at least until your father and I get back."
"You're leaving?"
"A mission for the Wardens."
Her answer finally drew his attention away from the window and the troubles he'd been contending with in his mind. "It has to do with the attack on the compound, doesn't it?"
"Yes."
He took this in, his eyes drifting to look upward as he figured out just how much was being asked of him. Then he looked at Líadan again. "How long will you be gone?" This time, there was a faint tremor in his voice, relaying his fear about them not being there if anything went wrong.
"A couple weeks." Said out loud to her troubled child, it sounded like forever, and from the brief look of despondence that passed through Cáel's eyes, it was the same to him. Líadan held on to whatever strength she had inside to resist the urge to stay and deal with everything right then. But if she insisted on staying, there would be questions as to why, and they would be prying questions, and everything would come out before she had a good solution. "If anything happens with your sister, you go to Nuala, and nobody else. I'm serious. Not any of your cousins, not either of your uncles, not either of your aunts, not even any of the Wardens until you've told Nuala first. She'll protect you like your father and I would, and she's the only person I know that for certain."
Cáel nodded, more somber than any seven-year-old had a right to be. "All right."
"Good. Now, into bed, young man. If you want to brood, you can brood there, and maybe fall asleep. Because if you fall asleep in that chair, you'll wake up with an awful crick in your neck, and none of the healers will be around to help you."
He scowled, but stood up and gave her a crooked smile. Then he surprised her by giving her a hug, clinging to her like he only did when he woke from a particularly terrifying nightmare. The moment passed, and with newfound strength, he got into his bed and settled in. She knew he was somewhat back to himself when he half-heartedly tried to swat her hand away from smoothing out his hair, and barely tolerated a kiss to his forehead. There was no dignity in that, he'd once told his parents. He couldn't help it that he needed them when he was hurt or scared—oddly, he could admit that much—but if he was fine, he didn't need it.
Líadan started to leave, and she'd just touched the door when Cáel asked, "Mamae, would they make you Tranquil, even though you don't really use your magic?"
"No. The Chantry has no power over Grey Wardens."
"Good. I wouldn't want to see you like that man was."
"Neither would I." When she left, Cáel was already drifting off, but she was unsettled, as if his concerns had been given over to her.
Her mabari waited for her outside the door. Líadan crouched and held Revas' head in her hands, giving her ears a good rub. Then she looked directly into the mabari's caring and understanding eyes. "I'm going to be gone, and so is Malcolm. I need you to stay here and watch over the children."
Revas growled, her objection clear.
Líadan smiled tiredly at her before becoming serious again. "I'm not saying you didn't before. I know you guard them and care for them like you would your own pups, and they love you for it. But this is different. Remember how Gunnar died?"
Revas whined.
"I know. I miss him, too. But do you remember the templars who hurt him?"
Revas growled with true menace, nothing similar to the playful growl she'd given earlier.
"Exactly. If templars come for Ava, I need you to keep them away from her, and away from Cáel. Bring them to Nuala, if you can. I trust her."
Revas gave her a quiet, confident bark. Then she trotted over to Ava's door and nosed at it. Líadan let her in, sighing as she closed the door. This was a terrible time to be leaving for a mission, but she wasn't left with much choice. To stay would immediately draw attention to what might have happened, and to not go meant risking an ancient magister going free. But everything in her that wasn't a Grey Warden wanted to stay to fix things, to convince herself she'd imagined what she'd seen. And though Nuala was a very good person to talk to, she had no direct experience using magic. And she wasn't Dalish, raised among a people who believed magic a Gift when a child manifested it.
However, she did have a clanmate left to speak with: Merrill. She was in Kirkwall, and even if she didn't have any workable advice to offer, she could at least be reassuring. Merrill was very good at that, while Líadan was emphatically not. If anyone could find hope in a situation that appeared to have none, Merrill could. Perhaps the trip to Kirkwall was necessary, after all.