"So why are we doing this again?"
Isabela glanced at Carver, then rolled her eyes, not sure if the man was stupid or simply not realising how complaining about their current task was a sure way to lose points with Merrill. Though I guess those two aren't mutually exclusive...
Not that Isabela didn't mind a bit of stupidity, at least not in men, but it was kind of sad to see the man dig himself deeper and deeper. Other than that he was a fine young man though, tall, dark and handsome were always good traits for a man. And though Carver was still something of a stubborn boy with too much pigheaded defiance in him, Isabela figured that he would turn into a fine man if allowed to grow up and mature with some loose reins. And what a man he'll make then, mmm...
He could do without his brother lording over him though, be allowed to make some mistakes and own up to them himself, not that Garrett would allow that Isabela figured as she watched the older Hawke shoot Carver a tired look. Not that she deemed him loosening his hold likely, the older Hawke seemed to be a control freak, not one who valued true freedom or what it might bring with it. Just another man with a 'plan', always with the bloody plans...why plan for the future when you can live?
In the end though, Garrett didn't reply, and continued to march on, making the rest of them follow like a pack of dogs...which was an apt comparison considering one of them was a dog.
It was night in Kirkwall and they were in the industrial area of Lowtown, meaning they were walking under various shadows cast by the towering and somewhat jagged buildings containing all from smithies to bordellos, all of course of poorer quality. Keeping them close to the right of the street, Garrett was leading them on with surprising confidence considering Isabela didn't think he actually knew where their target was. She understood keeping to the walls though, Lowtown wasn't a safe place at night, and though they were all capable, the man was obviously one who didn't like inviting trouble if he could help it. Not that that seems to help, we seem to find him. Isabela smirked at the thought.
The group would have made a funny picture for anyone watching though. While an armed group was the rule rather than the exception in Lowtown, it was not often they contained an elf, a Rivaini, a Dwarf and a Mabari...not to mention a man looking like he was the worst shaver in the world.
Hooded and cloaked in black though, Anders might as well have been another shadow as he walked between her and the Hawke brothers. With his staff and slightly hunched walk, he looked like an old man rather than a fearsome mage possessed by some goodie-two-shoe demon. Next to him, Maric silently trotted. Isabela almost found the hound more curious than the mage, Mabari were amazing dogs in size and intellect, but never had Isabela seen one so...silent, it was as if the dog was always in thought. Heh, maybe a deeper thinker than our precious elf-lover?
As if taking her thought as his cue, Carver continued with his usual questioning. "And I don't think Bethany liked being left out, she would have liked to help, brother." Isabela gave a little nod in agreement, the young woman had been quite adamant in her wish to help the elf woman with her son...though if she had been stubborn as a mule, Garrett had been stubborn as a wall...and in the end the young woman had given up. "And I still don't see the point with this, she's hardly paying us." Isabela sighed, glancing at Merrill to her right and finding a small pout on the elf's mouth, as if she was struggling not to speak up. And there he goes at it again, maybe I should just give him a shovel for his birthday...?
Merrill was the only reason Isabela was there. So kind and innocent, Isabela saw herself in the woman from a time best left forgotten...and as such she felt protective of the poor girl, wanting to keep her innocence intact, at least. So while she normally would have asked for payment to hang around as an extra blade in case things got hairy, Isabela had somehow found herself volunteering her help to Garrett, surprising them both as those large eyes of the elf looked on with a big smile on her lips.
Isabela sensed Varric felt largely the same way – why else get the girl he barely knew a house – about helping the innocent little girl. Shooting the dwarf on her left side a glance and finding the dwarf offering the elf a kind smile before speaking up, Isabela knew she was onto something. "Well we can't always get the big hauls, small ones are good too, plus we get to be heroes, that's always fun."
"The day my brother acts the hero, is the day I eat your coat, Varric." Carver chuckled back, then frowned as he looked back to Garrett. "No, really, why are we here? And why bring me instead of Bethany, since she was the one wanting to go?" Ah, there's the source of complaints...yeah, I guess I wanted to stay at the Hanged Man too...damn those big eyes... Isabela shot Merrill another smile, it was a long time since she'd warmed up to someone so quickly, save perhaps Varric.
A sigh escaped their leader, one telling Isabela the man had held similar conversations with his brother all too many times. All the more reason to let him loose a bit, the tighter you hold on, the more he'll struggle against you...I don't understand how some don't get this. "I wanted an extra blade with me, just in case, which means you instead of Fenris, since, as you said, she's paying us precious little. As for not bringing Bethany...I do not wish her to be involved in deals such as this, if it didn't escape your notice, it was a Templar we spoke to a couple of hours ago."
Isabela contained a little chuckle at the way Carver grumbled at the argument, yet the boy apparently wasn't done, and kept on digging his grave. At least he gets an 'A' for effort... "A mage-friendly Templar, if I've ever seen one, why else point us in the right direction?"
"Just because he's friendly, doesn't mean he won't do his duty if faced with a mage unable to hide her identity due to her being nervous. I thought it enough a risk to keep Merrill and Anders at a distance as it was." Garrett pointed out in that annoyingly patient voice, making Isabela groan inwardly. The man was so calm and reasonable...it didn't surprise her that Carver found it annoying, his brother hardly seemed human at times and just rubbed Isabela the wrong way. Which is a feat in itself when it comes to me... "As to why we're doing this...firstly, there's no harm in just looking when we have precious few jobs going right now. Secondly, must I really explain to you how horrible it must feel to have a relative as a mage leaving with people with Maker knows what intentions...?"
Sympathy? From this Hawke? Do I have a fever? Oh, or is this one of those stupid 'protect the many and therefore protect yourself' arguments? I better not ask, I've had enough of his lectures...a lecture not involving a ruler or whip is no fun.
"It's very nice of you to help her." Merrill chimed in, voice surprisingly loud in the abandoned street, making her face darken in a blush that no one but Isabela and Varric seemed to notice. "I'm glad we're doing this." The blush deepened a bit, no doubt the elf remembered her doubtful words of Garrett helping an elf, implying just a hint of racism. Though to be fair we're looking for a human and a mage...meh, who cares? People are people, I'm sure both I and Garrett even agree on that.
Carver coughed, looking back at the elf with a look half-panicked and half-desiring. "Well yes, me too, I'm just...erm..." Backpedal faster, boy. Isabela struggled not to grin, then shrugged and did it anyway, earning herself a quick glare from Hawke. "...I'm just...surprised my brother agreed to do this, he's not big on being generous to others like me and Bethany." Oh, good idea to add your sister to the answer, makes it seem less of a cover-up...
Merrill apparently didn't catch the blatant attempt at back-pedalling though, her smile genuine as she cocked her head to the side. "Oh I think you're all very nice when it comes down to it, you all helped me, after all."
Garrett glanced back, eyebrow arched and a doubtful look on his face, seemingly scrutinizing Merrill for some kind of joke or falsehood. But if the elf was even capable of it, it didn't show in her face. A grunt, and the man returned to looking ahead, shoulders bunched high. Tightly wound arse, aren't you...? "I'm generous when I can be, brother, we'll do this as long as there's little risk to us, am I clear?"
"Crystal." Carver grunted, then glanced back, giving Merrill a significant 'told you so' look.
Right, like she'd fall for that... Isabela glanced to the side, and sighed as she found Merrill smiling back at him while shooting Garrett a slightly reproachful look. Bloody hell, I'd better keep an eye on you, kitten...
Noticing her sigh though, the elf leaned closer, looking curious. "What is it, Isabela? You look annoyed."
Varric chuckled at that, making Isabela blink. Huh, I must have lowered my poker-face there... She leant closer to the elf, making Merrill's eyes bulge. What, afraid I'd kiss you? Maker knows I sleep with many, but how could I do that with something so...pure? It would be like diddling a priest. Isabela kept her voice low, a gentle whisper. "I'm just surprised you took Carver's words seriously..."
The elf stared at her, confused. "Why wouldn't I?"
Oh for... "Because he obviously wants into your trousers..."
For a moment, the elf just stared at her blankly, then her nose crinkled in a frown as she looked down at her chainmail and dress-like coat. "But...I'm not wearing any trousers..." Isabela squeezed her eyes shut and stifled an amused groan as Varric's chuckle grew louder. "...plus, I don't think they'd fit him if I had any." Varric's chuckle turned into a chortling. "What's so funny? I'm just not big enough..."
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Isabela found a laugh escape her before she could bite her lower lip. Then, taking a deep breath as Varric's chuckle died down, she managed to open her eyes and give Merrill an even look as she put a lid on her amusement. "It's not really important, I'll try to explain later."
"Oh thank you!" Merrill grinned, confusion replaced by delight within the blink of an eye. "I know very little about human behaviour and culture, I really want to learn more though, it's funny to compare with the Dalish ways!"
Hmmm...not a bad idea, comparing... "So...there's lots of Dalish men back in your clan, right?"
"Be quiet, you two." Garrett stopped Merrill from replying with a curt snap, the look he was shooting them a mix of annoyance and curiosity before he blinked, washing it away and replacing it with that annoying neutral look he seemed to favour. "I think I see him, let's approach him openly. Isabela, that means no hands near your weapons, we're here to talk."
Giving him a wide-eyed and innocent look, Isabela raised her open hands over her head, tone teasing. "Do you see any weapon on me?" A smirk. "Want to search me?" You'd only find two strapped to my back, a small one in my hair, a pair in my boots...and maybe even the one hidden down my blouse if you're thorough... Isabela didn't much care for the man, but resentful sex could sometimes be fun, not that she expected anything out of her teasing, it was just good old fun.
Not that Garrett saw it like that, he frowned at her, annoyed, and then without another word looked back to where he was going and stepped into the middle of the street, choosing to ignore her. That's gratitude, here I am, watching his back, giving friendly offers, and he barely tolerates me... Isabela snorted, then smirked. At least it's a nice back. She followed the man's movements with her gaze; they were confident steps of a man in his prime, making her smirk grow wider.
Of course, Anders swiftly broke her line of sight with his dark cloak, the mage's voice dry but holding a hint of happiness. "I'm glad you came to me, Hawke, I'll gladly help a fellow mage."
"I figured you would." The leading man replied, not even turning his head as he moved towards a shape crouched down in a corner ahead. Raising his voice, Garrett made the man visibly twitch. "Samson?" From behind a shaggy beard and hair that looked like a stack of black hay, a pair of large eyes glinted as they turned to stare at the approaching group. "I wish to speak to you."
"Who says I'm this Samson...?" The man replied, dusting his hands off as he rose into a stooped stance, the pile of refuse he'd been digging in forgotten.
Eugh, what's that smell? I've smelled beggars before, but this one is just...it's foul! Deciding she was near enough, Isabela came to a stop over a dozen feet away from the man, grimacing, and she wasn't alone. Merrill, alternating between looking pale and green, stood nearby, biting her lips as her nose twitched again and again. Varric too had come to a stop, though the man looked like nothing was amiss as he pulled off his gloves and began examining his fingernails. Carver had moved to follow Garrett, but now seemed to regret his decision as he backed off, trying to look inconspicuous as he moved to stand next to Merrill, giving her a friendly smile.
Isabela rolled her eyes. How romantic...
Garrett and Anders moved closer though, neither looking fazed by a stench that had to be even worse than the one Isabela was enduring. To Isabela's surprise, Maric also moved closer. Aren't dogs supposed to have keener sense of smell than humans? He'll lose it if he stays that close... Yet the dog looked as untroubled as Garrett as with a cocked head he eyed the hairy man in front of him. Garrett was the one answering the beggar though. "My contacts say you're Samson, so do I, as does Thrask."
Broken teeth shone through the scraggly beard of the filthy man. "Good old Thrask, always looking out for me. He and I aren't too different, you know, we both hate what's being done to the mages, I'm just more firm in my convictions."
"So you are a former Templar?" Anders asked, sounding surprised. "Who doesn't condone the oppression of mages? You must be one in a million."
"If you say so." Samson took one look at Anders, and then the stinking man was the one taking a step back, gaze quickly darting back to Garrett as he opened his mouth to speak.
Anders was faster though. "How do you manage without your Lyrium? All Templars must have some every day or they go...wonky."
"That guy isn't wonky?" Varric muttered, nodding at the mess of scraggly hair and filth that looked more like a monkey of Par Vollen than a human being. "Could have fooled me."
"They do?" Garrett asked, eyebrow raised as he shot Anders a glance.
The mage nodded gravely. "It's well known in Circle..." A dry chuckle. "...circles." He turned his gaze back to Samson. "A few days without it, and they start to shake, a few weeks, and they get delusional..."
"Really?" Garrett pointedly replied, looking back to Samson as well. "Yet you are neither shaking nor delusional...how come?"
"You can buy anything in Kirkwall if you know where to look and have the coin." Samson replied, crossing his arms over his chest as broken teeth once more glinted in a grin. "I thought the great Hawke would know that. Oh yes, I know who you are, who in Lowtown doesn't?"
To his credit, Garrett didn't react to the words, instead he picked up on the one thing of interest. Damn, spooky how he always does that... "And have the coin? You don't look like a man who could afford Lyrium." He shot the refuse pile Samson had been digging through a pointed look, then back up at Samson, narrowing his eyes. "So no shakes means you've had some recently...how?"
Growling, Samson took a step back, eyes glancing left and right, seeing his way out down the street. Yet Garrett made no move to get closer or to cut him off, so the man stayed after taking yet another step back. His tone was defensive, angry. "What's it to you? I'm allowed to make a living."
"Oh I agree." Garrett replied, though his tone was anything but apologetic. "However, I think you made that living out a boy, a boy named Feynriel, a boy I'm looking for."
"What? You think I took his money, gutted the wretch and threw him in a ditch for good measure?" Samson growled, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm not like that, I told you, I have a soft spot for mages in plight."
"So you let him pay you...?" Garrett tried, making the corner of Samson's lip, or at least the beard there, twitch. "With all the savings he took from his mother, given how expensive Lyrium is...he must have been desperate." Merrill gave a little gasp at the words, making Isabela throw her a glance. The elf looked upset, hands over her mouth as she looked at the exchange with fear, no doubt feeling nothing but sympathy for the boy she'd never met.
Of course, Carver was quick to put a comforting arm around her shoulder, making her shoot him a thankful smile...and the man virtually glowed with satisfaction for it. And you're supposed to be a lady's-man? Could have fooled me...
"Hey, I try to help, but I must live too." The former Templar replied, earning him a nod of understanding from Garrett even as Anders visibly bristled. "So...yes, fine, I helped him...the Templars think they have the Circle locked down, but mages escape from time to time. If they find me, I try to send them off to someone that might ship them out, that's all."
"Which will be oh so easy for them when they have no money to pay their fare..." Anders growled, a hint of a blue glow showing through his robes. "Who do you send them to?" Samson took a step back, and Anders glow grew. "Who!?"
Uh oh, time for fireworks...wonder if Samson still knows how to handle mages...? Isabela took a step back, head cocked to the side and curious as she shot Varric a mutter. "A sovereign on Anders."
A chuckle greeted her. "No bet."
"Anders." Garrett put a hand on the mage's shoulder before anything could happen though, making the glow diminish as Anders took a reluctant step backwards. Turning his attention back to Samson – who by now was eyeing his exit with more longing, but also fear, unsure if he could escape if it came to it – Garrett kept his tone calm. "Like my friend here is asking, who did you send him to?"
"I'm no snitch." Was Samson's quick response, though it lacked the heat of conviction.
"We only want to help him." Garrett replied, prodding Anders in the side with his elbow. "And you would of course be...paid for your help."
The mage shot Garrett an angry look however. "What? Are you crazy? I'm not...do you know how hard that is to come by, even for me?"
"You want him saved or not?" Garrett replied, never taking his eyes off the suspicious-looking Samson.
A sigh...and Anders reluctantly reached into his robe before fishing out a finger-thin vial and holding it up in a gloved hand. Within, the blue lyrium glowed like a small star, a light reflecting in Samson's wide eyes. Heh. If Isabela was any judge, Garrett's words were hardly needed. "Now, please tell us where you sent him..."
"Cave near the Wounded Coast, right at the waterline, called Skull's cove. Anyone knowing that region could point you to it." Samson eagerly replied, not letting the lyrium go with his eyes.
Isabela blinked. "Huh, I know that place..." She frowned, a jab of anger in her gut. "...that's an infamous den of small time slavers..."
"Slavers!?" Anders echoed in anger, nearly pulling his vial back into his robe, only for Garrett to grab his wrist, stopping him. "What are you doing!? This...wretch...sent the boy to some slavers!"
"Th-they help sometimes!" Samson replied, taking two steps back in fear, gaze darting between his exit and the vial of lyrium so close to being in his possession. "Th-they often send younger mages to Tevinter. Tevinters love mages! He's probably going to get rich there!"
"And if they don't?" Isabela caught herself asking, crossing her arms over her chest, making Carver shoot it a glance before he blushed and glanced down at Merrill, looking guilty even as the elf ignored him in favour of staring at Isabela. "The slavers also like selling mages to the Chantry for that hefty finder's fee. As for the Tevinters...they mostly like using young mages as weapons and to sacrifice them for even more powerful blood magic...but you know that, don't you?"
Samson's eyes grew to the size of saucers. Yet Garrett slowly prised the vial of lyrium from Anders' hand, voice cool. "We offered a trade, the deal will be honoured." Anders glared at him...and then sighed and nodded, letting the man have the vial. Moving closer, Garrett made Samson flinch. The warrior simply held out the vial though, face neutral. "For your trouble."
Samson snatched up the vial.
And then Garrett snatched the man by the collar, holding him fast as Samson's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Do this again, and I'll find you. I won't stop you from helping mages, but make sure you actually help them, got it?" Next to him, Maric, silent so far, remained still even as he gave voice to a low and foreboding growl.
Samson's gaze darted between Garrett, the grip on his collar and the massive dog...and then he was nodding eagerly, nearly shrieking."Yeah, yeah, of course! Anything you say!"
Garrett released him, and Samson took off like his arse was on fire.
Chuckling, Isabela watched with curiosity as Garrett turned back to the group. "There is no time to rest, we'll go and check it out."
"You mean save him?" Carver replied, looking perplexed. "That's what we're doing, right?" Merrill and Anders both nodded emphatically at that.
"We check it out." Garrett replied, stoic as ever. "I told you, we don't unduly risk ourselves this time, the pay is too small."
Merrill and Anders both narrowed their eyes, though the former bit her lower lip a moment later, nearly looking guilty for feeling angry over the man's words. Isabela was the one speaking though, much to her chagrin. "Actually, I'll gladly help with the risky bit, if it'll help. No charge, promise." Garrett stared at her as if she'd sprouted a second head, making her shift her feet and look away with a shrug. "What? I'm not a big fan of slavery."
"Live and let live, eh?" Varric asked, offering her a smirk as he sensed her being uncomfortable.
She offered another shrug, wanting to be anything but the centre of attention at the moment. "Something like that, yeah."
"Pardons, I'm just surprised you'd do anything without gaining something from it." Garrett replied, sounding annoyingly surprised.
Isabela glared back at him, sensing Merrill's silent support. "Yes, perish the thought that the pirate has some standards..."
Anders cocked his head to the side, a smile somewhere deep in his hood. "Well, actually..."
Carver and Varric chuckled as one.
Grumbling, Isabela shook her head. "Oh screw you guys..."
"See, this is what I'm talking about." The mage retorted, drawing yet another chuckle out of Varric and Carver as Merrill politely put a hand over her mouth.
"Screw you all..."
8
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8
"I'll kill him!"
Merrill froze in horror. Garrett had explained to her that a potential attempt at a rescue might be a bloody affair, and though she still supported trying to save poor Feynriel, she had found the idea somewhat...just a tiny bit...terrifying. It was one thing to deal with spiders and skeletons and...well...animals. People were something entirely different though.
She had still approved of Garrett deciding to try to rescue the boy though, although the idea of Garrett deciding to do such at his convenience was irksome...she was sure he was being very considerate and smart about it, but it still felt wrong to be ready to abandon someone like that.
Yet the small cave, half of it submerged in water deep enough for smaller boats that could get you out to the sea, had only held half a dozen slavers. Men in crude leather armour and carrying a variety of crude cutting implements as well as bows, Garrett had done the right thing and ordered an attack.
And that had been very nice of him.
It had also been nice of him to order them to take out the bandits using non-lethal ways, Merrill especially liked how he trusted her to use the spell with the vines she'd used against the spiders again. It was nice to be shown some trust after...well...everything after the discovery of the Eluvian, really. Even now, she could sense it in the back of her mind, almost calling to her...though obviously it was just her dedication to the work still permeating her, she was making such slow progress...but it was there at least.
Of course, Garrett had sort of ruined the niceness of taking out the bandits non-lethally when explaining he hoped for a bounty from the city guard for handing over the slavers. Well it's still nice, not killing, though...well...it's not for niceness sake, I suppose. "Welcome to Kirkwall."...who speaks like that, anyway? She shook the annoyed thought aside, trying to focus back on the horror before her before she lost herself in thoughts, again. Too many in her clan had already called her 'ditsy', she did not need for her new friends to call her that too.
Fortunately – or unfortunately, depending on how looked at things – that was easy to do.
They had not struck out at the bandits directly with magic, instead Merrill had guided the life of the ground up to grasp hold of the supports holding up the crudely made platform most of the bandits had been on, since they had been busy fishing. As such, four of the men had fallen straight into the water, never knowing why, and when they'd resurfaced Maric, Isabela and Carver had stood at the beach, making resistance pointless. Merrill was sure there was a reason for Garrett not wanting her to use magic directly on the bandits, though such 'realities of life' as the Keeper called them usually escaped her until she could give it some thought back home. Ohhhh...right, because they'll be sent to Kirkwall! And there's Templars there!
Merrill smiled at that, a smile that made the fifth slaver – nailed to the floor by Varric's crossbow bolt in his boot – give her a confused look as she and Anders kept their staves levelled at him as if they knew how to use them as normal weapons. For all Merrill knew, Anders actually might, Wardens were warriors, weren't they?
Another shake of her head, and Merrill turned her head, looking to the last of the Slavers, a portly man with ginger hair and that strange thing humans called 'stubble' all over his face. The man looked more scared than intimidating though, his left arm wrapped around a finely boned blond human and a cleaver-like sword pressing against the terrified boy's Adam's apple. He looks so young...and sort of elven... Merrill grimaced, not comfortable with the thought of what his mother had done, nor the way her clan had responded. Elves shouldn't be with humans like that, but...it's wrong to punish it, isn't it?
Garrett advanced at the man, Varric next to him with Bianca in hand...and the slaver drew back, making Feynriel whimper as the blade pressed harder against his throat. "Not another step! I'll do it!"
"No, you won't." Garrett calmly replied, though he stopped, arms lowered, his sword not even drawn anymore.
"What!? You bet your ass I will!" The man growled, though it was the growl of a cornered wolf. A cornered wolf once bit off half the hand of a hunter though...
"No, because if you do, my associate here will put a bolt through your skull, and you know that." Garrett replied, voice so cold and in control that Merrill found a shiver run down her spine. He scares me... "You're trying to intimidate me with a threat of killing this one. However, your hostage is but a job to me, I can get another one." He let the words sink in. "You, however, cannot get another life."
The slaver didn't answer, he just stared at Garrett...and swallowed.
"Drop the sword and surrender, and you'll live, don't and you die, those are the options."
Merrill found herself holding her breath.
Yet not for long, as the slaver's sword softly landed in the sand.
Garrett moved forward, weapon still sheathed as he pulled Feynriel out of the slaver's suddenly limp grip, then pushed the unresisting man to his knees and wrenching his hands behind his back. "Isabela, you're good with knots, tie this lot up, then we'll check what stuff we have in this little base."
8
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8
It didn't take them long to tie up all the slavers, though only after Garrett had made them all take off their armour and boots, much to Merrill's embarrassment, something not helped by Isabela's constant stream of jokes at the expense of the half-naked men. At least I got to see a lot of the insides of my hands that way...and a glimpse of...no, I must not think of that, never again... Merrill shuddered at the thought. Fat humans are disgusting...I've never even seen a fat elf...then again, neither Dalish nor Alienage elves have much of...well...food.
Having had the men marched out onto the beach, Garrett had ordered Maric to watch them as the rest of them went back into the slaver's camp to scour it for anything of value, but save what had been on the humans at the time, there was precious little. Unless you count bread acting like convincing stones...
Sitting on a rock, Merrill looked around herself, thinking the cave would actually be sort of pretty if there wasn't so much debris left from the stinking human slavers still cluttered over the floor. Maybe a nice fireball would clear it all away...no, I'm pretty sure Garrett wouldn't approve, or the Keeper...and I don't know how to cast fireballs.
"Yo-you were ready to let him kill me." Merrill turned her head at the unexpected words. So far Feynriel had been silent, but now he spoke, eyes wide as he stared at Garrett in slowly dawning horror. "You...you nearly let him slit my throat!"
"Things are risked in battle..." Anders said with a bitter tone, though the mage didn't turn from his riffling in a nearby barrel. "Damn, no cheese? What kind of people don't have any cheese?"
Garrett, leaning against a wall, looked up from the blade he'd collected from the slaver leader – a weapon Carver eagerly had explained to be a 'Falchion'...though Merrill saw little resemblance to a real falcon in the cruel-looking blade – his voice cold. "No, as I told him, he wouldn't kill you, not if he wanted to live...and that man wanted to live."
"You...you couldn't have known that!" Feynriel complained, sounding more and more agitated as he sat in the sand, legs too weak to carry him after the shock of all that had happened.
"I was very certain." Garrett calmly replied. "But you're right, I took a risk..." Merrill grimaced, she didn't like the idea of risking another like that. "...but would you have preferred that I'd let him go so he could sell you to Maker knows who?"
"Well...no..." Feynriel sighed, head dropping low. He was short for a human, short and slim with what most humans would call delicate features...if it hadn't been for the round ears he could almost have been taken for an ugly elf. Merrill felt nothing but pity for him. Can't be easy, being trapped between your Dalish past and the life you live in... Before her mind, an image of the Eluvian flashed. ...not that I would know... "I just don't know where to go now."
"Why did you leave anyway?" Merrill caught herself asking, curious. He's almost one of the people...
"Why not?" Isabela spoke up, grumbling as she looked through a few boxes strewn in a corner, turning them upside down to let any content come out, only to be rewarded with the odd pile of dust and the odd pebble. "He's old enough to make his own way, isn't he?"
"Agreed." Carver grunted, earning him a look from Garrett – yes, he's definitively scary – that made the man grimace and look away.
"I just...I couldn't stay." Feynriel muttered, looking at the ground.
"So you took your mothers savings, your family's savings, and left?" The chill in Garrett's voice was unmistakable, making both Feynriel and Merrill shiver. "A poor way to repay her for her love."
"B-but I couldn't stay!" Feynriel exploded after a moment, looking up, face alight with earnestness. "I...I've had dreams..." He looked away, grimacing. "Dark dreams, dark voices, voices wanting me to..." He closed his eyes, shuddering...and Merrill reached out, letting her hand rest on his shoulder. I know of such dreams, the fade is a scary place for a mage at times...maybe the Keeper can help? "...I don't want to endanger her."
"Okay, that's better, I can respect that." The chill faded out of Garrett's voice, replaced by something akin to politeness. "Anders, can you help him? Mage to mage, I mean?"
Feynriel's eyes got large. "He's a...but...I..." He stared at Garrett in shock, then Anders.
The human mage looked back, nodding. "I can help you, yes, I have extensive experience in dealing with creatures of the Fade..." A little chuckle. "...you could even say I'm as good as two experts."
Varric arched an eyebrow where he sat at what remained of the slavers' pier. "Wow, that was a bad one, Anders."
"I know, I'm truly sorry..." Anders lowered his head. "I blame the lack of cheese."
"Don't we all...?"
"Then it's settled." Garrett grunted, ignoring the others' banter as he pushed himself off the wall. "We're taking you back to your mother, Anders here will help you control your gift, and there will be no talking to anyone else about who's a mage or not...deal?" He offered Feynriel his hand.
Who took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet, a hesitant smile on his lips. "Deal."
And Merrill caught herself smiling at them both.
Maybe this will work out after all...
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Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being such a hero.