A/N: Huge apologies this chapter has taken almost a…year (is it?) to get out here. Uncooperative muse was uncoorperative. This story is far from being abandoned…

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Chapter 12 - Silent Conversations

And it's all happened before…

"Huh…"

Absentmindedly, Alyce ran the nail of a forefinger under her chin. Happened before, huh?

An old god child that is; Grey Wardens not so much dangling their toes into weird and ancient magic, but diving head first buck-naked and giggling like overexcited children into the Arcane. All right, that was a slight exaggeration on her part. Grey Wardens weren't known for their whimsical natures. They were known, in fact for doing some fairly extreme things, anything to stop the Darkspawn. Sell their collection of sweet old mothers to stop a stampede of Shrieks? Done. Throw a few cute and cuddly puppies into the path of rampaging ogres? Oh yes. Torch an entire city with the people still in it? That old chestnut?

Anike's 'revelation' – almost - did not come as a surprise to Alyce. After First Enchanter Torrin had allowed her into the small circle (no pun intended) of mages who knew the preparation involved in the Grey Warden Joining ceremony, she couldn't help think 'blood magic'. There was blood after all. There was magic…and those two words appearing in the same sentence together made Alyce's right eye twitch.

So the Grey Wardens had not only been desperate enough to wine and dine on darkspawn bits. They'd also been…researching.

The furrow between her eyebrows deepened ever so slightly.

"Senior Enchanter?"

What she didn't understand was if the Grey Wardens knew how to survive the slaying of the Archdemon by creating a…being with the soul of an old god, why wasn't that knowledge made known to all Grey Wardens? If it had happened once, why not all the time? Why waste a Grey Warden when you could save them? Was creating a god child all that bad?

"Senior Enchanter."

Greagoir, as far as Alyce knew, hadn't turned into something unnatural and attempted to take over the world.

Yet, the tiniest voice at the back of her head whispered.

Oh, stop being stupid, the other, slightly saner voice next to the first poo-poohed. Greagoir's a good boy. He knows perfectly well that if he tried to take over the world, he'd get a darned good clip 'round the ear hole.

So…what happened to the last God Child then?

I'm not listening to you. You're starting to talk rubbish now.

You know you want to.

Shut up.

Alyce didn't want that annoying first voice to shut up. Not really. Because she did want to know. She was a mage. Mages were innately curious. Or infernal busybodies; whichever description fit the occasion. Neria's friend Morrigan had had some inkling. Perhaps. Would Flemeth have sent one of her precious daughters with a Grey Warden without some knowledge of the true outcome?

This line of thinking inevitably led Alyce back to the same thought. The same one she had. Every. Single. Time.

Did Morrigan give Greagoir up voluntarily?

"Senior Enchanter."

She had thought once that growing up with a person meant you got to know them pretty well. All their likes, dislikes, annoying habits and quirks of personality living with a person in close quarters for decades gave. The one thing Alyce had learned about Neria Surana was that she didn't like people to know her.

Once upon a time, Alyce would never believe that Neria Surana would kill a person to obtain what she wanted. Now…

Now…

"Senior Enchanter!"

The Grey Warden's shout echoed through the chamber, bouncing from rock wall to rock wall before fading into the lava-lit gloom beyond their little subterranean campsite. Alyce fixed her gaze on the woman staring at her.

"I realise what I've just told you may not have been anything new to you," Anike said in a far quieter tone of voice. "But surely you of all people must have some opinion, some thought on the idea that this…this Flemeth, the one many call the 'Woman of Many Years' intervened in a previous Blight."

Me? Alyce thought dryly. Does my opinion matter? Really? When all I give a damn about is whether or not my boy is safe from Grey Wardens?

"Do you believe any of this?" Anike continued, her voice breathlessly desperate.

Why now? Alyce wondered. Did the Order find out about Greagoir? If they had however, would they be searching for Neria and Morrigan this way?

Argh, my head hurts and I would kill for a bit of broccoli, Alyce sighed inwardly.

"You know Warden Surana best," Anike added as though that statement was enough to get Alyce talking again. " She may be of the Order, but she is also a Circle Mage. The very fact that you are here must mean the Circle has some idea where she is, yes?"

No.

Informing this Grey Warden that getting Neria Surana to do anything that wasn't either Neria's idea in the first place, or of benefit to Neria was pointless. If Neria didn't want to be found, then she wouldn't be found.

Yes, well tell that to the First Enchanter too…Why do I have to be the one stuck in the middle of all this by the way? Oh…yes. Because the rest of the world seems to think that because Neria was my friend once, I have some kind of psychic link to her telling me where that woman is.

Why did I agree to spending months underground again?

Oh yes. It was either that or the threat of being sent permanently to Val Royeux.

Damn Torrin. He knows how much I loathe garlic.

"Please Senior Enchanter…If we pool our knowledge as well as our resources, surely our chances of finding the Warden Commander are much better." A statement which, in Alyce's mind, told her the Grey Wardens might not know about Greagoir after all. Well, not all Grey Wardens. Only Senior Warden Alistair and that wretched Neria Surana…

She hoped.

What could she tell Anike? What did she want to tell Anike? On the one hand, sharing information was a good idea. Also, Grey Wardens could 'feel' each other couldn't they? That's what Alistair had told her once. The more experienced ones could pick another Grey Warden out of a crowd and sometimes, even know who they were. If they'd met the Warden before anyhow. Could Anike somehow be able to detect Neria in the Deep Roads?

"Senior Enchanter-"

"I can't tell you how much I'm missing my dwarf right now."

Anike blinked in surprise at Alyce. "I…beg your pardon?"

Alyce frowned. "What?"

"You…said something strange about…" Anike began, "a dwarf?"

"What?" Alyce's frown deepened. "There's nothing strange about dwarves," she stated. "Except those beard pouches. Ever see what a dwarf keeps in those things? Better still, I hope you don't. Saw a dwarf pull an entire roasted nug out of his once oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't going to tell you, was I? Silly me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I had better go and check on my injured ones. Thank goodness none of them have pouches. Be damned inconvenient in the Deep Roads, pardon my Orlesian." With that, Alyce stood up, preparing to go.

"Senior Enchanter!" Anike sprang up and blocked her path. "Were you listening to anything I've just said? Anything at all?"

If Alyce's expression hadn't already been completely neutral before, it was even less energetic now. Practically comatose. She nodded.

"I heard you," she stated emotionlessly.

"And?" Anike demanded.

Alyce took a deep breath. She leaned in conspiratorially. The Warden's own expression turned hopeful.

"I think," Alyce said carefully. "That your freckles are positively darling."

And that, was the end of any conversation about Neria Surana Alyce was willing to have.

For now.

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"I say we return to Highever, pick up an army then fight our way into Orzammar, never mind the slight diplomatic whoopsie this might cause. It's not like my brother's men have anything much to do these days. It would be a good way to keep them, you know…limber. Better yet, I'm sure the Royal Guard could do with a bit of exercise. All those pike men with little else to do but practice poking each other all day long. Might give them funny ideas."

Captain Tremayne resisted the urge to roll his eyes and remind his lordship that he was repeating himself. It wasn't the first time Aidan Cousland had suggested raising an army to rescue Alyce. He doubted it would be the last. Cousland the Younger had a flair for the dramatic, a need to fill silences with inane chatter when he was nervous, bored, angling for attention, or all three at the same time. At this time of the night however, when Ryan was tired, worried and looking forward to some sleep, he was very much in agreement with Queen Eleanor that Aidan Cousland needed a wife to keep him busy.

"The cavalry needs a proper airing too," Cousland's voice marched inexorably onwards. "Trooping the Colours or whatever it is they do in Denerim never sounded like a good use of taxpayer funds. I mean it's pretty and all but horses weren't made to dance around public squares wearing curtains. They should be I don't know, charging at an enemy or…hunting boar or…carrying little children about at fairs."

There was a pause in the flow of conversation. In the darkness, Ryan lay on his side wondering when his lordship was going to go to sleep. Or, even why the younger man had agreed to share the same room. The Orzammar Circle was small and guest space was limited, but he'd been willing to bunk in one of Dagna's workshops and allow his Lordship his own space.

"Are you asleep?"

Ryan sighed softly. "Not yet my lord."

"Is that you telling me to go to sleep?"

Ryan merely grunted and pulled the blanket over his shoulder. There was an ache in his lower back he didn't remember having before but he was trying not to focus on it. He was trying to think what to do next.

A Seeker, following Alyce?

Why?

Of course, it could be just coincidence, but what reason did the Chantry have for being in the Deep Roads? The Divine mostly left the dwarves to themselves. From time to time enthusiastic followers of the Prophet visited the underground world, but dwarven culture was stubborn as stone and dwarves viewed the issues of the surface world as the problems of humans and elves. That included religion.

"Are you asleep now?"

"My state, Lord Aidan," Ryan replied calmly, "remains unchanged."

"That was another jab at me wasn't it?" Cousland replied with a huff. "Well, I know how to take a hint. I'll go to sleep. See? This is me going to sleep. Snoring already, so tired yawn, yawn, ya…look, what the Maker's right nut are we going to do?"

Ryan could hear the Cousland sit up in bed; throw the covers off himself. There was a soft flump as bare feet touched the stone floor.

"Who is this – what is this…Seeker thing? You're worried, right? Am I right? You looked worried. Well, as worried as you could possibly look, which is only slightly more stony than usual. Do you think we should pay a visit to the Grand Cleric? Ask her whether she knows anything? Is that what you religious types do?"

"Most definitely not, my Lord," Ryan replied quite firmly.

"Then what?" There was a sharp, finger-snapping noise. "I've got it! There's more than one entrance to the Deep Roads. We can go looking for her myself. I mean…ourselves. Because of course you'll come too being married to her and all. I suppose."

Ryan sighed, more audibly this time. No. Two humans wandering about the Deep Roads attempting to find another way into Orzammar? It was foolhardy. They could find a dwarven guide, he supposed but…he frowned. Now, there's an idea.

Why hadn't he thought of that before?

They might not be able to find a dwarven guide at short notice, but there were others fairly familiar with the Deep Roads and darkspawn that he could call on.

"Grey Wardens."

"What?"

Ryan realised he must have spoken aloud and rolled onto his back. Where was the nearest Warden outpost to Orzammar? Jader? Across the border? Alistair Theirin was the Senior Warden there; a Warden and individual he could trust. But, Jader was a week and a half away and there was no guarantee Alistair would be there. The Senior Warden might be in charge of the Grey Wardens at Jader, but appeared to spend far more time abroad, in Ferelden…

"And the anniversary of Ostagar is soon…"

"I'm sure I've spoken to you about those little 'personal conversations' with yourself before, Tremayne," Cousland's voice pouted in the darkness. "Contrary to popular belief, I am not a mind reader, nor do I have the hearing of a bat. When people address me in a normal tone of voice, I have been known to actually answer. Intelligibly too."

Clearing his throat, Ryan calmly composed his thoughts. "I was thinking aloud, my lord."

"Really?" Cousland snorted. "Care to think more audibly?"

Ryan smiled at Cousland's sour tone of voice. "I have nothing else to say my lord."

"Oh, really?"

If Senior Warden Alistair had headed to Ostagar, it might be easier to locate him. Once they were out of the Frostbacks, they could cross Lake Calenhad to the Old Imperial Highway…

A two week journey. That was not so convenient. They could send word first to Jader from here, but there would still be a lot of waiting around for an answer, only to find out that Alistair was already in Ferelden and they'd wish they'd been on their way to Ostagar to meet him.

"But we can't stay here."

"Captain."

"Yes my lord?"

"You're doing it again."

"Apologies, my lord."

"Don't apologise man!" Cousland remonstrated. "Just spit it out already!"

"I was-"

"Yes, yes 'thinking aloud'. I know. Say it. That's an order." There was a slight pause. "And no 'but I can't get a word in edgewise' either."

"I was wondering whether we might ask the Grey Wardens for assistance," Ryan said carefully. "They know the Deep Roads almost as well as the dwarves."

"That's more like-"

"But, I would still like to speak to the First Enchanter," Ryan interrupted before the Cousland could run away with the idea. There was something not quite right here. First Enchanter Torrin often sent Alyce on his own, personal 'missions', but Torrin knew the dangers of the Deep Roads as well as anyone. He wouldn't send Alyce underground without good reason.

A very good reason.

Ryan Tremayne may not be a Templar anymore, but his training ran deep. A Senior Enchanter is sent into the Deep Roads, a Seeker – one of the Divine's trusted agents - is found with a map of said Deep Roads and what had Dagna said? That the darkspawn had been leaving? If another Blight was on its way, the Grey Wardens would be out and about, recruiting. Yet, he'd not seen many Grey Wardens so far. Not that they were obvious. Since the last Blight folk had flocked to the Order, wanting to do their bit for Ferelden and the Wardens hadn't needed to actively recruit. People came to them. The stream of volunteers these days was mostly not so much a trickle, but a drip as, ten years or more later, people began to forget the Blight and view it as something of a bit of a historical inconvenience. There was, despite, far more Grey Wardens in Ferelden now than at the start of the Fifth Blight.

The darkspawn aside, Ryan knew if a Seeker was involved somehow, the Chantry were up to something. And, if a Seeker was really actively pursuing Alyce – and the First Enchanter didn't know about it – then someone should tell him.

On the other hand…if Torrin did know, well then.

Ryan would dearly love to have words with that man.

"Dagna would surely have some way to contact her people in Orzammar," Ryan finally spoke. "And I would like to send a message to Senior Warden Alistair – either in Jader or Ostagar-"

"They're not exactly close, you know," Cousland interrupted wryly. "Those two places."

"Nevertheless," Ryan continued stubbornly. "Alistair is known to us. He's familiar with the Deep Roads. At the least he'll have ways to contact Grey Wardens already underground, send them word to look out for Alyce."

"And what about us?" Cousland demanded. "If you think I'm going to wait here, twiddling my thumbs while other people run around for us, then think again Captain."

"You can always return to Denerim," Ryan suggested silkily. "I'm sure their Royal Majesties would be happy for your company."

"You're an evil, evil man Captain Tremayne," Cousland snorted, rustling the bedclothes peevishly.

"As for 'in the meantime'," Ryan added. "I still intend to try to speak to the First Enchanter." He didn't believe Orzammar would practically imprison visitors in the city. Not important (and well-liked) ones like the First Enchanter. What had it taken the last time the dwarves had no king? Grey Wardens? A Paragon? He'd have to speak to Dagna about that. Come to think of it, he'd like to see Ser Hanleigh too.

"And what if I order you to follow me?" Cousland asked. "Gave you the order to return with me to Highever?"

Ryan turned his head, narrowing his eyes at the shadowy bunk along the opposite wall.

"Then I resign, my lord."

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