-oo-
Chapter 11 – Something Familiar
"Stand fast men…!" Commander Hirral bellowed, raising his battle axe as the ground shook from the arrival of yet another wave of darkspawn. As the creatures exploded into the field of battle Hirral noticed late that one of his men had fallen in the direct line of advancing darkspawn. He barely had time to curse, engaged in a sudden blossom of dual shrieks in his immediate area.
Alyce was slightly closer. She rushed forward over the broken stone and dead bodies towards Corporal Sorli, skidding and sliding on the loosened gravel. She was barely within spitting distance when a hand snaked out and grabbed her arm abruptly. Jerked backwards, her feet scrabbled for purchase in an attempt to keep going.
"Ogre!" a familiar voice shouted in warning.
Alyce was undeterred, yanking her arm from the Grey Warden's grip in defiance. She was annoyed and Alyce didn't like being annoyed. The second ogre in this battle alone and the last one had almost smeared the ground with pieces of the Legion Commander. And I'm damned tired of them messing about with my dwarves…! Gritting her teeth, Alyce raised her silverite staff high then brought it down with such force that the metal sparked on contact with the stone; a shockwave of magical energy sweeping across the battlefield. The ground around Sorli's body trembled, growing a soft blue corona about the fallen dwarf. Meanwhile the air around Alyce began to turn the colour of blood.
"Oh…uh…" Alyce was barely aware of Anike's cry beside her. "Wardens! Down!"
Hirral and the remaining bare handful of dwarven warriors did not need to be warned specifically. A few skirmishes in the Senior Enchanter's company had given them a pretty good idea what to expect when her expression turned stony.
A blast of fiery wind exploded from around the Mage's feet. The ogre stumbled backwards from the force of it, but continued its charge, only to be knocked back by a molten ball of magical fire, sending it splattering into the far cavern wall where it disintegrated into an ashen outline against the scorched rock. A soft, chill breeze followed; its sigh brushing the scarred battlescape while the cooked and melted mounds of darkspawn pinged and popped as they cooled. There were no darkspawn left, only the relieved Legion of the Dead and handful of Grey Wardens picking themselves up off the ground. After a while the absence of the noise of battle revealed the mocking clap of hands in sarcastic appreciation.
Alyce turned, slowly. It had been barely half a day and the Seeker had figured out that he'd been duped and tracked them all down. Hm, and just in time to see the end of battle too, Alyce added to herself darkly. How convenient.
Giles Moreau revealed himself, sweeping an impressed look over the lumps of darkspawn corpses as he did. "I am amazed, Senior Enchanter," he stated with a dark smile. "I have seen many forms of magic performed but never with this much raw power. You are a credit to the Circle."
Leaning on her staff, Alyce cocked an eyebrow at the Seeker. "And your point?"
"Oh no point, no point…" Moreau continued to smile. "I am sure the Ferelden Chantry is quite aware of your abilities. Otherwise they would not have sent you on such an important task."
"Yes, well," Alyce snorted. "Disposing of as many darkspawn to help our dwarven friends is about as important as you can get."
"So diplomatic!" Moreau laughed humourlessly. "I'm sure that…" There was an unexpected bony crack, echoing off the high walls of the chamber. The Seeker's sharp blue eyes glazed over, becoming unfocussed then he toppled sideways, revealing the Grey Warden Anike behind him, another large rock in her fist ready to be thrown in case the first one didn't end with the desired result. Alyce blinked at the unconscious Seeker, then at the Grey Warden; who shrugged unapologetically.
"I…was clearing debris," Anike explained unconvincingly. "My hand must have slipped." She glared at the prone Seeker, looking as though she'd like to do more than knock the man out. She dusted off her hands, nodding to the nearest other Grey Warden. "Tie him up…" she ordered. "And gag him. His voice makes my stomach turn." While the unconscious Seeker was trussed and hauled off, Warden Anike switched her attention to Alyce. "Now that this bit of refuse is out of the way," she added with a disgusted twist of her mouth, "I think you and I should talk."
Holding her ground, Alyce folded her arms around her staff. She'd just expended a great deal of mana and while she was no where near spent, the extra support was needed. "Well, that's nice," Alyce commented. "Though I can't imagine what you could possibly-"
"Because I'm tired of dancing around the subject," Warden Anike interrupted again. "Instead of trying to work together."
"Pft," Alyce rolled her eyes, persistent in her attempt to keep up her side of the pretence. She had had strict instructions from the First Enchanter; work alone or not at all. And whatever she did know was to be kept to herself. "Killing darkspawn is just…"
"I'm talking about the witch called Morrigan," Anike said abruptly, mirroring Alyce's stance of folded arms and defiant jaw. "And her…involvement, I suppose you could call it, with your colleague and ex-Ferelden Warden Commander, Neria Surana."
It was difficult keeping her expression neutral at the mention of either name. Alyce tried very hard, but she couldn't help her Amell chin from jutting stubbornly. Well…The Wardens are after Neria too? First Enchanter Torrin had mentioned this might happen. Neria Surana was one of theirs after all. And if nothing else, Anike's statement confirmed Alyce's suspicion that, while it was not unusual for Grey Wardens to be in the Deep Roads in general, it was not mere coincidence that they were here, instead of…somewhere else in the Deep Roads.
As for working with them…Could she trust them?
Aw dammit…
"What are you going to do with Moreau?" Alyce asked.
Warden Anike shrugged again. "I'd like to drop him into the nearest lava pit," she said with no trace of regret whatsoever. "While the last thing I want is any entanglement with the Chantry - any more than I suspect you do - whatever information that greasy pile of bovine poop might have found I would see destroyed before it goes anywhere near the Divine. Or to whomever he was meant to report to. We can work together," she suggested again. "We might have information about these two women that you don't."
"Uh huh…?" Alyce fixed on her bland face, maintaining her bluff of disinterest as long as there were no darkspawn to interrupt them. Again.
"Look…" Warden Anike took a few more steps forward until she was just a stone's throw away from Alyce. "You don't trust me. I understand that."
An eyebrow jumped on Alyce's forehead. An understatement if ever I heard one…I don't trust anyone down here. Not even myself.
"But it's…" Anike shot a look towards her small group of Grey Wardens. "We're…I'm not here on official Weisshaupt business, if that helps any."
"Mm…?" Alyce murmured, cocking her head to the side like a curious puppy. The Grey Warden had yet to tell her anything to convince or sway her yet she didn't want to discourage the young woman either. Too far in that direction and the Wardens could very well wash their hands of her and leave her behind…not that she would care, but her curiosity was piqued.
"Not specifically," Anike went on to say. "The Warden First knows we're here…somewhere in the Deep Roads. He just doesn't know the exact reason we happen to be…why are you making that face?" she frowned suddenly.
Alyce blinked. "I'm sorry, what face?" She pointed a finger at herself. "Oh you mean this face? No reason."
The Grey Warden pursed her lips. "For your information, we Grey Wardens aren't free-spirited warriors, travelling about Thedas willy-nilly doing whatever the Fade we like as long as it involves killing darkspawn," she explained. "There is order. A hierarchy…purpose – stop making that face!"
"This is my normal face, I'll have you know!" Alyce told the Grey Warden in an offended voice.
"Think on this: what if the others find the witch and Surana before you do?" Anike demanded. "I wish no harm to either of them. Others, like that Sneaker might not be so understanding!"
"Ah, others…" Alyce nodded sagely. Actually, she hadn't given much thought to any 'others' who might take an interest or two about secret Grey Warden business, lost spellbooks, immortal abominations and the end of the world as they knew it, but well…there you go. We learn something new every day don't we?
But, others? If there are, it won't be good. I'm having difficulty keeping up my patience with this lot as it is…
"Yes. Others…" Warden Anike gazed at Alyce in half irritation, half admiration, trying to decide which of the two to go with. She decided, after a few seconds contemplation, on the latter. "You're not going to be convinced until I prove myself are you?"
Alyce offered only an encouraging smile. Her feet were hurting from standing up so long but more importantly, she wanted to go check on Hirral and the other Legion of the Dead soldiers, in case any of them needed healing. Sorli especially. "Well," Alyce suggested. "As long as you're doing so while I look after the injured. I've neglected them long enough."
Without a backwards look to see whether Anike followed, Alyce left their little promontory; heading down towards the Legion of the Dead group at a brisk pace. Not that she needed to look. Warden Anike was light footed, but she made no attempt to move quietly. It was a Grey Warden thing, she supposed. If your enemy could feel you coming, it was pointless trying to hide one's presence, wasn't it?
"I don't know how much you know…" Anike's voice came up behind her as Alyce made her way across the short distance to the dwarves. "…about Grey Wardens outside Ferelden during the Blight…"
"Nothing," Alyce snorted. "Except for their leaving two junior Wardens to deal with an Archdemon and a Blight on their own…"
Alyce sensed Anike tense behind her. They had arrived at the huddled group of dwarves and she had bent down; first to Sorli, who'd been dragged off the battlefield by his remaining comrades and propped up against a boulder. He was alert, though looking rather bemused about being upright and breathing…When Alyce touched his shoulder, he wiggled his fingers at her and smiled lopsidedly, eyes slightly unfocussed. "Still alive, eh?" he murmured. "Or…still dead, in my case…"
"Not all Grey Wardens were happy about that," Anike bristled behind Alyce, giving the impression she had intended to say something far more heated.
Her back to the Warden and her expression unseen, Alyce rolled her eyes. If Grey Wardens from all over Thedas had come to Ferelden in a unified front against the darkspawn to begin with, instead of allowing the Blight to eat Ferelden, perhaps General Mac Tir might have been spared his Orlais-paranoia and King Cailan a messy, ignoble death on the battlefield. That was of course, only her opinion and she knew it was an unqualified one. She had no idea how the Grey Wardens could tell there was actually a Blight on or 'detect' the Archdemon or…she didn't know how it worked. It was secret Grey Warden business and nothing to do with her…except for the fact that far, far too many good people she'd known had died during the Blight when they might not have needed to.
Instead of responding, Alyce completed her spell of rejuvenation. Fortunately, Sorli was none the worse for being an ogre's chew-toy and all he needed was rest…or the extra energy the Rejuvenation Spell gave him. Satisfied she could leave the dwarf on his own, Alyce gathered up her thoughts and stood, turning to face the angry Grey Warden.
"There were some of us," Anike continued before Alyce could speak, "who tried to come to Ferelden. Tried very hard. Some of us even died in the attempt!" she hissed, hands curling into fists. "I will not have their names besmirched!"
"Peace…" Alyce said calmly, holding up a hand. As much as she wanted to make her point, antagonising the Grey Warden in this way was a touch point…less. So, as eager as she was to ask why the Grey Wardens simply hadn't tried getting to Ferelden using the Darkspawn-vacated-for-the-Blight Deep Roads, she didn't.
That was perhaps…for later.
"Deep Roads…" a voice giggled near Alyce's feet. "Duh…You'd think the Grey Wardens would have tried going to Ferelden that way wouldn't you?"
Still facing Anike, Alyce pasted a serene smile on her face.
"Not many darkspawn down here during the Blight…stupid nug-suckers…" Sorli's laughing voice continued, while Alyce fixed her gaze precisely three centimetres above the top of the Grey Warden's head. When she felt it safe, she shifted ever so slightly in front of the Legion soldier. Just in case.
"Well!" she cleared her throat and said brightly. "You were saying you might have information that I don't about Neria and uh…her companion, the uh…"
"Maleficar…" Anike's eyes narrowed. After a few more seconds listening to Sorli chuckle to himself, the Grey Warden sighed. Indicating Alyce follow her a distance from the others, she stepped away, pushing blood-spattered tendrils of hair from her face with a grimy hand. She glanced over Alyce's shoulder when the mage joined her, being cautious again no doubt.
"During the Blight," she sighed, "Many of us newly-made Wardens learned for the first time why only a Grey Warden can kill an Archdemon." As she said this she gazed on the ruin of battlefield, her expression grim. "They must sacrifice themselves; give up their lives to slay the Archdemon. Please…" She grasped Alyce's arm. "What I am telling you is to go no further than this place…"
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes again, Alyce nodded agreement and Anike continued.
"The Archdemon holds the soul of an old god." Anike said. "Tainted by the darkspawn it is enslaved to their will to lead them, contradictory as it sounds. When the physical body of the Archdemon is destroyed, the soul of an old god is drawn to another carrying the taint. If it enters a darkspawn the Archdemon will live again. If instead the soul enters a Grey Warden who also carries the taint, both are destroyed; Archdemon and Warden both. So, imagine our surprise when we learned that neither Fereldan Warden died vanquishing the Archdemon…"
Anike was clearly waiting for some kind of expected response from Alyce. Alyce however, did not like what she had heard, which was to say that none of it made any particular, logical sense. At. All.
"So…" she cast her gaze upwards, startled to see stalactites. Hm, lucky all that stomping about by those ogres didn't shake 'em loose, eh? "Let me get this straight…" she said slowly, distracted by the spears and…ooh, that one over there looks like a curtain…pretty! "…The Archdemon becomes tainted by the darkspawn and becomes their slave-leader. I think I get that." Easy. "Grey Wardens are…tainted…like the darkspawn?"
The Grey Warden nodded. "We take the taint into ourselves and master it. It…attunes us to darkspawn."
"But doesn't make you in thrall to the darkspawn like old Archie?" Alyce asked.
"Well, no. Of course not. We master the taint-"
"Yuh-uh. I'm nuggy with that," Alyce waved a dismissive hand. Wait. 'Nuggy'? What the…? I've clearly been hanging around Apprentices far too long. "But the darkspawn can hold the soul of an old god right? Being tainted and all?"
"That is what I have just said, yes."
"Yar, but the Grey Wardens also being tainted die."
"Yesss…" Now the Warden was looking at her as though she'd gone mad. Or stupid. Or both. Whichever option, Alyce's head was beginning to hurt. A lot.
Massaging her temple, Alyce grimaced. "Alright, I'm going to pretend that I've just understood all of that so we can move on, no I can't. Why the Fade must a tainted Warden die, but not a darkspawn? That's just…unfair, dammit…" Wait…again…Alyce's mind wandered back to the day Neria arrived in Highever with the little bundle of old god joy. Clearly, there was a time-limit on the taint. Or else Greagoir would never have survived to be born. Did Anike know this? Perhaps not. Or else Grey Wardens would be scrambling to impregnate maleficars before every battle with an Archdemon…Now there's an image I'm not likely to forget any time soon.
"Well then," Anike sniffed, taking Alyce's silence as encouragement to continue. "Imagine my surprise to learn also that the Fereldan Wardens were not the first to survive."
This time Alyce was surprised. And intrigued. "Oh?" she asked as casually as she could.
The Grey Warden nodded, looking rather superior. "A…friend of mine in Weisshaupt has made it her life's work to trawl through what records the Wardens have managed to retain from the first Blight onwards. For many years she has studied the culture, if you will, of the Order. During her trawls she came across more than one mention of a being – or beings – common in some of the records. Some describe it as a vague entity. Others as a great power. In one text, this…'being' was described as the 'Eater of Souls. An immortal witch."
If Anike had said anything else, Alyce would have felt the inevitable chill down her spine. Eater of souls? An immortal witch? Did she need to guess who that might be? Really?
"There are many names for her," Anike said after a slight pause, a little confused by the mage's eyeroll. "You Fereldans even have a fairy tale based on her; 'The Witch of the Wilds'. Some say she still walks amongst us, immortal and fearsome. That a single look from her can kill a man on sight. Simply from fear."
I prefer 'interfering, senile old biddy' myself…Alyce thought at the rock ceiling.
"There is…more."
Alyce's eyelids drew downwards. More? Oh now, this should be good.
"My – we – believe we know why." This time, Alyce could not help her gaze flying back to the Grey Warden. Encouraged by the hoped-for interest, Anike smiled. "And quite frankly, knowing what we do, I can't blame her for doing what she does."
-oo-
Credit where credit was due, Dagna's workshop was impressive. In such a relatively short time the diminutive but enthusiastic Circle dwarf had built and established not only her own Circle; a refuge for many like-minded individuals as herself, but facilities to rival the Tower of Magi's own laboratories. Ser Ryan could appreciate why First Enchanter Torrin kept both an eagle eye on, as well as a welcome mat out for First Alchemist Dagna.
Unlike the scholarly, sedate Tower of Magi, the Orzammar facility buzzed with constant activity. Bellows pumped, steam billowed, cogwheels turned and people in cloaks scurried from place to place in that oddly hurried but calm way that conveyed 'Out of my way! There are things about to happen!', 'I know perfectly well what I am doing' and 'Well it will be only a teeny, tiny explosion, nothing to evacuate over - ha, ha, ha, I hope you've informed your next of kin – giggle-snort.' And for some reason that Captain Tremayne could not fathom, most of those bustling about carried a single piece of parchment, like a part of their uniform or perhaps, a shield. That was certainly the expression they gave him.
The Orzammar Circle covered four floors – most of it underground – housing an eccentric collection of mages, smiths, engineers, alchemists and historians, amongst the ordered piles of equipment and forests of glassware and tubing. In floor-space Dagna's Circle was small in comparison with the Tower, but so much was crammed in, it gave the impression a person could walk from one end to the other several times and always find something they hadn't before.
Dagna's own work room was tucked down at the very lowest level – as per dwarven custom – a tidily cluttered space that included a toy-strewn playpen and a collection of fluffy lichen grown into humorous shapes in matching pots above a heavy stone table.
Ser Ryan was currently engaged in amusing the former occupant of the playpen; a button-nosed, cherub-cheeked toddler with flame coloured hair and a shy smile reminiscent of the little girl's father. Dagna herself was busy gathering tea things in the far corner, the scent of brewing tea intermingling with the odour of grease and lyrium. As was his custom, Lord Aidan Cousland remained stubbornly at the door, propping up the frame and attempting to look as though he was in his element, instead of being very uncomfortable about getting too close to little Frieda in case she was catching.
When Dagna returned, she – at first – raised her eyebrows at the human lord, then at Captain Tremayne before placing a steaming cup by his side, near enough for the Captain to access but well out of reach of the child. "You're as bad as Handy," she told the Captain, retrieving a chair and a cylindrical metal object from her desk.
"Speaking of," Ryan looked up with a grin, "where is he?"
"Fishing," Dagna raised her eyebrows. "He and Edel went out just before noonday. I'm afraid they won't be expected until late this afternoon."
Ryan Tremayne's grin slipped a little, one eyebrow lifting slightly higher than the other. "You make it sound as though you wish us gone from here as soon as possible." He kept his voice gentle, not wishing to offend. He needn't have worried; Dagna chuckled at him. Taking a seat across from him, she indicated the metal cylinder with an incline of her jaw.
"Of course I do, Captain," she smiled. "I've been hearing some…things I don't like." She cast a pointed look towards Lord Cousland. Reluctantly, he stepped aside, pulling the heavy metal door closed. "My people move a little more easily through Orzammar than your mages do amongst the general population of Ferelden," she explained.
"Well," Cousland agreed. "Dress folk up like pretty butterflies…what do you expect?"
"I want you to have this," Dagna told the Captain, blithely ignoring the human lord's comment to hand Ryan the metal cylinder. "It's a map of some of the older Thaigs far beyond Caridin's Cross. Apparently."
Ryan frowned. Shifting Frieda to his right knee, he twisted open the cylinder and looked inside. The material was vellum, new. After he'd removed the map and unrolled it over his other knee he looked up to find Dagna grinning at him. "Yes," she told him. "You've guessed correctly. This is a copy made from the original."
"And the original?" Ryan asked, frowning at the jagged lines and oddly drawn symbols, annotated in a style of writing he was not familiar with. The only thing he did recognise worried him.
"Somewhere in the Deep Roads with its owner," Dagna said with a shrug. "Someone who intended to use that to either follow or track down Alyce for whatever reason."
"You think she's in danger?"
It was Lord Cousland who spoke, detaching himself from the doorframe to stand at Captain Ryan's left hand side; the better to view the map himself. "If that is the case, we should waste no time!"
Ryan Tremayne sat back. Handing the map to Aidan Cousland, he reached for his cup of tea, taking a long, silent sip. He found his shoulder being smacked with a roll of vellum. "Well, man!" Aidan Cousland growled. "This is your wife we're talking about! Damn it, we have to go and find her. Knights in shining armour to the rescue and all of that."
"No, my Lord."
"What!"
Carefully replacing his cup on the side table, Captain Tremayne pinned the dwarf sitting across from him with an inscrutable stare. He had come here in hopes of speaking with First Enchanter Torrin before haring off into the Deep Roads after his wife. He knew well the extent of Alyce's talents, as well as the vastness of the Deep Roads. Aidan Cousland might have some limited knowledge of the latter, but not the former. Nor did the prince need to know. Yet. Ever.
"Wait, wait, wait…" the Cousland continued to wave the vellum roll. "You're saying that after travelling all this way to find your wife, we won't be looking for her after all?" Pressing a finger against the dimple in his chin, he added; "I'm sorry. I appear to have missed that particular memorandum…"
Ryan continued to pin Dagna with his unreadable gaze. "You implied the First Enchanter was here," he reminded her.
"Actually," Cousland pointed out, "she pretty much did say he would be here. Someone's telling porky pies."
Dagna grimaced. "I'm sorry about that," she said. "The fact of the matter is Torrin is trapped too in Orzammar and the way things stand, no one's being let in or out of the main city. No exceptions. Not even Grey Wardens. The two of you hanging around the front gates insisting you be let through was bound to land you in trouble, not gain you entry. You'll have to trust me when I say no guard's going to give a brass nug if you're a prince or a wiper." She gave a grave shake of her head. "Orzammar's not isolated itself like this since the Blight and even then the Wardens were still granted admittance. Now…"
"So that's it then?" Cousland snorted. "Wonderful. Even if we could get into these…Deep Roads, we could end up wandering – possibly getting lost ourselves in the process – for Maker knows how long trying to find Alyce, with no clue in the first instance where she could have gone! Why couldn't you have just told us at the gate? Why wait until now?"
Dagna shrugged. "You both looked a little chilly," she told them simply. "And I wanted to give you that." She pointed to the map in Cousland's hand. "The man we sort of…stole that from had…" she frowned. "...an odd sort of symbol on his uniform." Biting her lip, Dagna cast an uncharacteristically nervous look towards the closed door. "Handy told me…" she began in a quieter voice. "It's a Templar symbol. Sort of. With an eye in the middle of the Maker's sun. Said he was a Templar; but I've come across it before in my research. The Chantry don't let just anyone wear it. It takes a, well a special sort of Templar."
"A Seeker," Ryan stated emotionlessly, the space between his eyes wrinkling.
"A seeker of what?" Cousland asked. "Sounds familiar but…"
"The Seekers of Truth," Ryan explained. "An arm of Templars that answer directly to the Divine."
"Pig's arse," Cousland spat. "And you said this Seeker went after Alyce? Is the First Enchanter aware?"
Dagna shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't seen Torrin since the Tasting Finals. He was a difficult man to pin down during the competition. After they closed the gates, well…All I have been able to find is that whatever task Torrin sent Alyce to complete has both these Seekers and the Grey Wardens looking for her."
"Hah!" Cousland snorted.
"And…as I might have mentioned before…" Dagna said with a pointed look at Ryan, "Torrin's been difficult to pin down."
Implying…the number of wrinkles above the bridge of Ryan's nose increased…that the First Enchanter has also been required to evade both parties. His insides chilled at the thought of possible reasons why. This…sudden interest in Alyce…Greagoir's disappearance…Grey Wardens and the Chantry sent after his wife.
Coincidence? Apparently not anymore.
His thoughts were interrupted from proceeding down even darker paths by the growing sensation of a very damp warmth spreading from his knee up his thigh.
"Oh for the love of the Ancestors…!" Dagna swooped, scooping up her daughter from Ryan's knee. "I'm so sorry! Normally she lets us know…Just give me a moment. I'll be right back…I'm…" A random cloth was handed to the Captain to mop up before Dagna and child made a swift retreat towards the door. Ryan took the cloth wordlessly, the sound of the door banging against the frame making him jump slightly. He was trying to think, but his brain was being uncharacteristically uncooperative. He found the Cousland tapping him once more on the shoulder with the rolled up map.
"You alright Tremayne?" Aidan asked in concern.
Ryan stood. He held out his hand for the map. "I am fine My Lord. If I may…?"
"I don't know," Cousland crossed his arms. "If you ask me, you look unwell." Glaring at the obvious damp patch on his Captain's trouser leg, he added. "Can't be about that. Bit of an over reaction, being pee'd on normally."
Ryan extended his hand again, his Templar face fixed quite firmly in place. "Truly," he assured his lord. "I am fine." He would not burden Lord Aidan with stories of children with the soul of an old god, Archdemons and immortal witches. It was not his secret to divulge. He and Alyce had always known Neria Surana's arrangement with the daughter of a legendary maleficar would eventually rear its demonic head. Even secrets as well-kept as this one. They always knew they would have to deal with the repercussions some time and since hearing about Greagoir's disappearance, the thought had been whispering in the back of his mind.
It was just that he had hoped it would remain an idea and nothing more.
-oo-