Kirkwall stank.
He'd thought he'd be able to manage it, but then they'd come up on the Gallows and he'd just collapsed, overwhelmed. He came to belowdecks, with Theron sitting next to him and the Voshai hovering protectively.
And he'd thought it had been bad three years ago.
"Will you be all right?" Theron asked.
"I just wasn't prepared," Alistair said, surprised to find his voice had an edge of raspiness to it. "But Andraste's flaming sword, Theron, be glad you didn't end up with lyrium poisoning down in the Roads! It's bad here."
There had been something-
He had to get back out into the air.
Mhequi and Lockhard stepped up behind him as he headed for the hatch, ready to catch him if he fell off the ladder.
It was… still bad, and Alistair had to fight his addiction-breaking conditioning to stay conscious.
Just let it flow through you, he told himself, falling back on Templar training. Breathe, ignore the tingling, the whispering is all in your head, it doesn't mean anything.
Except he didn't believe that last, any longer. He'd seen enthralled Templars at Kinloch Hold during the Blight, which meant that the lyrium intake made them connected enough to the Fade to be as susceptible to a demon's coercion as a mage. And he'd heard the Archdemon's song since then, lived with the incessant back-of-the-mind noise of darkspawn. The whispers felt like that.
Andraste protect him, he could hear demons.
At least they weren't clear enough to understand. He wondered if this was how mages felt all the time.
Kirkwall was fetid with the stench of lyrium and mages. Apostates smelled differently than Circle mages- Circle mages carried some of that lyrium smell with them, while apostates didn't. Here, you probably couldn't tell the difference. The Gallows overpowered everything else. Even balanced Templars, who had never given in to their lyrium addictions like the ones here had, would have gotten jumpy and touchy with that sort of uncertainty. Alistair wasn't even a Templar any more, and he was a little nervous.
But- no, concentrate past that, under the lyrium and the mages, and there was the odd seared water scent of the Fade. He'd noticed it in Kinloch Hold, when they'd helped deal with the demons and the Abominations.
That was strong, too. And there was something else, he couldn't tell what. He wasn't sure if whatever-it-was was setting off some Templar instincts that were reactivating from all the lyrium in the air, some Warden ability, or just his own totally human but finely-tuned sense of danger.
"Hey Theron?" he called down into the hold. "When you've got a private minute, there's something I need to tell you."
Nathaniel crouched down next to him, expression strained and worried.
"You can feel it, too?" he asked quietly. "The Taint? It's not very strong. But it's here."
Alistair couldn't. The magic was overwhelming everything else.
Too much lyrium, demons, and darkspawn. Alistair felt entirely vindicated about not letting Theron come to Kirkwall without him. He would have tried to help everyone with their problems and gotten hopelessly entangled and never come back.
He'd probably still try that.
Blast. They'd have to keep a close eye on him.
Theron fell to the middle of the group, Fen'harel at his side, as they walked from the docks to Hightown, despite being the one in charge. Dalish stood out, and they weren't where he was needed yet. If the guards stopped him, he'd step forwards and take Alistair's place beside Nathaniel.
He wondered if he shouldn't do that anyway. Alistair was noticeably twitchy, and kept starting at random passers-by. The others on the docks were noticing, and kept a little extra distance. No one wanted to set off a jumpy man who obviously knew how to use the sword and shield he was carrying. The people of Kirkwall were giving them a wide berth.
Mhequi was uneasy as well. She wasn't twitchy, but she kept sniffing audibly and suspiciously scanning their surroundings.
Something magical, then.
Not that he himself was necessarily comfortable. There was some hint of the Taint here, and that was all sorts of alarming. They'd have to find Delilah Howe as soon as possible, and then track down the source of that feeling. One overlooked ghoul or unknown tiny side exit out of the Deep Roads could corrupt the entire city. The miracle was that it hadn't happened yet, or that they'd arrived just after it had.
The Free Marches had their own Grey Wardens. Why hadn't they addressed this Did they just stay in Ansburg? Theron didn't have even half the number of Wardens at his disposal that the Commander of the Grey in the Marches did, but he made sure to send long patrols around the country to check up on the areas where the Blight had hit the hardest, and to look into any reports of strange activity that might be darkspawn. He kept people watching the known Deep Roads entrances, and an eye out for any they hadn't known about.
Maybe that was it. The Wardens here had never had to worry about a Blight, or anything like the Mother and the Architect.
But with all the Fereldan refugees who had fled to the Marches, surely they had thought to check the incoming ships for Tainted passengers?
No matter now. The Taint had come to Kirkwall somehow, and they were the Wardens who were here. They'd have to pull out the armor once they'd settled into their rooms at Lord Harimann's estate and inform the Viscount that they were launching an investigation.
And maybe they should send for assistance. The Commander in Ansburg had to be informed, after all, and Amaranthine needed to know that they'd likely be staying longer than expected.
There was a direct route from the docks up to Hightown, gated and guarded. Nathaniel and one of Lady Johane's servants got them through, and they were escorted to the Harimman estate.
Alistair and Mhequi froze as soon as the door was opened, blocking the entrance. Nathaniel had been ahead of them, going to greet Lady Johane, and got a couple of steps into the house before realizing that no one was with him.
"Captain?" Theron asked, hand drifting to his sword. Lockhard had already drawn his, and he trusted the Voshai. If only Mhequi had noticed something, it would have been a cause for concern; but for her and Alistair-
Alistair pointed to Lady Johane, who had fixed a polite smile on her face at their odd behavior. She was standing on the lower, central balcony of the reception hall's grand staircase, overlooking them.
"Apostate," he declared. "And I can smell the Fade in here. Somebody's been a very bad mage."
"Demons," Mhequi said. "Down."
Lockhard sighed and said something Theron couldn't catch. Inlays at the base of his sword flared blue, and twirled it once, a motion full of promise and purpose. The sword hummed on a deep vibrating note.
"There has been some sort of misunderstanding-" their hostess started to say.
"We're not accusing you, Lady Johane," Nathaniel stepped in smoothly. "I believe Alistair when he says you're an apostate, but that doesn't mean you have anything to do with the demons. Someone else in the household-"
There was a shriek from a back room, and the sound of something shattering. It was accompanied by a familiar roar.
"Rage demon," Theron, Alistair, and Zevran said at the same time.
"Sometimes it really worries me that you can do that," Nathaniel told them as the demon burned down a door that led further into the house. He fell bac behind the group, hugging the wall, as Alistair, Mhequi, Lockhard, and Fen'Harel jumped on the demon.
Beside Theron, Kallian had frozen up.
"It's all right," Theron told her. "Rage demons are fairly common, and easy to defeat. They feed on feelings of rage, so as long as you stay steady and clear-headed when you fight them, they go down-"
Something tackled him and he hit the floor, an arcane bolt smashing apart on the stones of the porch-like area just outside the estate doors.
Zevran rolled off him and disappeared. Theron stood up and closed the door. It was better that the city guard didn't get involved with this.
Lady Johane was still standing on the staircase balcony, staffless and casting with her hands. It wasn't particularly precise, but it would be a danger all the same.
Theron shrugged the dragonbone shield off his back and held it the way he'd learned from Alistair- not all of a Templar's training required lyrium to use.
"Commander-"
"Go help the others with the demon, Tabris," he ordered her calmly. "I'm making a target of myself."
The others had the demon well in hand, but Kallian could benefit from taking a few swings at the thing while it was weak and gaining some confidence about the mortal vulnerabilities of demons. Anyhow, even if she just hung back trying to steel her nerve, she wasn't up to the headlong rush up the stairs Theron was making at Lady Johane. With mages controlling demons- say rather mages controlled by demons- the important thing was to interrupt their spell casting. Bashing them with a shield was particularly effective, and the best was when you knocked them down completely.
He did accomplish that, because he'd fought entirely too many demons and mages in his day, but he'd also meant it when he'd said he was making a target of himself. This was a distraction for Zevran to get into position and slide a thin, sharp dagger, into a specific location in her spine.
Lady Johane fell dead instantly, and that was when the desire demon appeared.
"Ah," Theron said, and took a swing. "Alistair!"
There was a great pounding on the stairs and Fen'harel grabbed the demon's tail in his jaws, yanking around violently, like it was a small animal he was trying to kill. The demon turned on the mabari, screaming in outrage, and went down under a storm of blades.
"Good job, Sergeant," Theron congratulated Kallian, because he'd seen her in there with the rest of them, swinging her greatsword like she didn't fear anything. "Not so hard, is it?"
"So, Theron?" Alistair said, as everyone else was trying to catch their breath and Kallian nodded in agreement, expression going a little shocked as she really processed that she'd just helped kill a demon. "When I told you I needed to talk with you when you had a private minute? It was demons. The city smells full of them."
"Much demons," Mhequi agreed.
"There are more of them, still below the house," Lockhard interpreted for the rest of them. "I saw more burned doors- there has to be a cellar entrance somewhere."
"Well, we'd better go clean them out," Alistair sighed. "We haven't even been here five minutes-"
"I'll stay here and calm down the household," Nathaniel said. "Someone will have to explain to her father."
"Great friends you've got here, Howe."
"Shut up, Theirin."
"Not my name!"
"Do you want to fight demons, or nobles?" Theron asked, and Alistair grumbled but took point on the way to find the cellar.
"For everyone who doesn't know," he told them, as they cautiously made their descent. The entrance had been in the wine cellar, where a hole in the wall had been partially blocked off. It looked like someone had accidentally unearthed into an old ruin, and that was where the demons had been summoned- or come from, possibly. Mhequi and Lockhard had identified the crumbling architecture as Tevene, and the Magisters were probably not above binding demons and them leaving them places. "Rage demons are single-minded, but they can dissolve into embers and then reappear behind you. Desire demons are weak at close quarters but harder to kill, because they can feed on the edge of your desire to take them down, or not die, or whatever. Just… try not to feel anything and it'll go a little faster."
"But it's all right if you do," Theron reassured them. "You're mortal and we don't expect you to be otherwise. There are enough of us that we can mob a demon and take it down quickly. If we run into one supported by shrieks or corpses or other lesser demons, let and Zevran and I deal with them. They're easy once you have the trick of it, and Alistair will be able to use you more."
"Yes, Commander."
They found another desire demon, two more rage demons, a couple of revenants and arcane horrors, and the usual crop of corpses. At least there hadn't been any obvious tears in the Veil.
Theron and the others emerged from the cellar victorious and only a bit worse for wear. Alistair and Mhequi's nerves seemed to have settled now that they'd actually confronted some of the demons they'd been smelling, and Theron left them to talk to the house guards about getting the entrance to the ruins barricaded so people who didn't know what they were doing would stay away from it.
"Look, I understand that you didn't want to send your only child away to the Circles," Nathaniel was saying to a man clinging to the end of middle age. Lord Harimann, he must be. "But you've had demons in your house now and you should probably get a mage in here to check the Veil and make sure it isn't damaged. I know it will be a blow to your reputation, but the safety of your household has to mean something. Your grandchildren still live here, right?"
"It would be more than a blow to my reputation, Lord Howe-"
"'Constable Howe' please."
"-it would ruin me. I convinced the Viscount to send aid to Ferelden and Denerim after the Blight, and the other Lords have been looking for something to legitimately hold against me ever since. This will be perfect, even if it puts them on Meredith's side."
"Who?" Theron asked.
"Ah, Lord Harimann," Nathaniel said. "Warden-Commander Mahariel of Ferelden, Arl of Amaranthine."
"An honor, Ser," Lord Harimann said, and seemed to mean it. That was nice. "Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard of Kirkwall's Templars, up at the Gallows. Everyone knows she's the real power in the city, or at least more than the Viscount. I can only think of a few people who might possibly be able to muster enough support to challenge her."
"Oh?"
"Grand Cleric Elthina, because she's in charge of the Chantry here and can demote or transfer the good Commander," Lord Harimann told him. "The young Lady Amell or Guard-Captain Vallen, who take care of most of most of the real business of keeping the city safe and in order between them, as much as that's possible in a place like this. Most of the city adores them, especially in the lower reaches. The young Lady Amell is the only one the Arishok of the Qunari stranded here will even speak to. The Viscount has to use her as his go-between! And as long as you're here, Commander- you yourself."
"I wasn't aware that the Wardens were so respected here," Nathaniel said. "I didn't get that impression that last time I was here."
"Oh, they're not particularly respected," Lord Harimman said. "It isn't that anyone hates them. They're mostly just a non-entity. Maybe it's different in Ansburg, but I can't recall even a rumor of there being Grey Wardens in Kirkwall in my entire life."
That explained how the Taint could get in. The Wardens of the Free Marches were ineffectual.
"It's because of who you are to Ferelden," he continued. "We have Fereldan refugees crammed into every corner of Lowtown- and every crack and nook under it- and a few have come up the city as well. The most well-known are Guard-Captain Vallen and the young Lady Amell themselves. They both came here fleeing the Blight because the elder Lady Amell is from Kirkwall, and only left when she got married. Between the refugees, the Ladies Amell, and the Guard-Captain, I think you could muster significant support if you decided to try anything."
Was he… asking him to? Why tell him in such detail otherwise?
"And why would I do that?" Theron asked. He wasn't interested in playing Marcher political games- he just wanted the problem of the Taint solved. And the people protected from demons. And for the refugees still living destitute to be able to come home.
Oh no. That sounded like it could get complicated.
"You cannot solve everyone's problems, 'ma'len," Zevran whispered to him in Elvhen.
Nathaniel shot him a pleading look that expressed the same sentiment before turning his attention back to Lord Harimann.
"We can ask Warden Mhequi to take another look at that ruin," he volunteered reluctantly. "She isn't a mage, but she's the closest thing we have. We'd likely be sending for a Warden mage from Ferelden, since I'm sure we'll run into more demons, and we can have whoever comes check the Veil for you once they get here. That way no one else has to know."
Lord Harimann looked relieved.
"That would be most appreciated, Lo- Constable Howe," he said, and then his expression fell. "I just- I wish I knew why Johane did it. We have all we could ever want. What did she need a demon's power for?"