42: What the Eyes Can't See (Part XII)
"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens."
― J.R.R. Tolkien
"I'm one of the Chargers," Stitches stated authoritatively to one of the sentinels guarding one of the side entrances to the Main Hall. He pat down his vest a pulled out a carefully folded letter, the seal broken, but still attached to the parchment. Almira supported his arm over her shoulder, swallowing nervously, not sure of what she'd do if the soldier turned her away.
Apparently satisfied with the evidence presented him, the soldier waved Stitches in, but barred Almira as she stepped forward to take his arm. Her heart stopped.
"She's with me—I require her aid to get around, as you can see," Stitches argued. The soldier took in a deep breath. "You're not going to make me go fetch her papers, are you? Lord Pavus is expecting us inside."
The sentinel pushed the letter back into his hands and tilted his head towards the hall.
"Just go."
She gripped Stitches just as tightly as he held her to support himself, moving awkwardly towards one of the large doors in the bustling hall.
"Geoffrey!" Lord Pavus called out to him, pushing through the crowd. Almira looked up at Stitches, who was pursing his lips, a peeved expression in his face.
"That's my given name," he whispered, frowning. "He refuses to call us by our nicknames. Probably in retaliation for some past asshattery of ours…" He shot her a sideways glance. "Don't ever call me that, deal?"
"Have you received any word?" Lord Pavus asked while his eyes searched the hall for any relevant activity.
"None. We heard the same as everyone else."
"Blasted Blights," he grumbled. "We'll have to watch Cullen and Leliana like hawks for any incoming reports, then," he decided. He stopped mid turn. "And who is this?" He stared down at Almira. "I've seen you hanging about the Chargers at the tavern, if I am not mistaken…" He paused. "No, of course I am not mistaken. And why are you here?"
"She's…our mascot," Stitches added quickly.
"Almira Elanan, your Lordness." She began to curtsey awkwardly, causing Stitches to lose his balance and pitch to the side.
"I've heard Lord… or even Lordship. But there is no such thing…" he began, but quickly stopped. "Well…It doesn't really matter right now," he declared in a somber tone.
Almira sat back and stared at the window for a long time, watching as the light flooding the windows in the hall changed from clear, to gold, into twilight, and finally splintered into tears. Stitches remained seated beside her. He'd pat her back consolingly anytime she leaned forward and brought her hands over her face, attempting to mask her despair. As the day gradually faded and no news arrived, he began to look as forlorn as she. They waited, in heavy silence. Lord Pavus would rapidly dart past them, occasionally tossing them little observations:
"Cullen's going to turn into a statue, he's standing so still out there."
"Did you see Leliana anywhere? She was by my side just minutes ago…"
"I can't believe these many mages know the Chant by heart! Look at them all!"
"Contact the Blades of Hessarian, indeed…It's more likely those rustics will pluck and roast any ravens Josephine and Leliana send their way!"
But at the end, he always concluded in the same disheartening way.
"No news yet, I fear."
Almira stirred from her uneasy slumber with a start. Stitches was shaking her shoulder.
"Something's happening."
Almost as soon as he uttered those words, Lord Pavus erupted from the doorway, striding towards the hall's entrance.
"Inquisition messenger," he stated hurriedly, dashing by. "Follow me."
Stitches glanced down at his leg, still swollen.
"You go," he told her. "Then come back and let me know, all right? I'll be right here. Go!"
She ran towards Lord Pavus, stepping right behind him as he made his way imposingly through the crowd, his head held up high as they rushed to the gate. Several guards held the crowd at bay, but parted respectfully to allow Lord Pavus passage. Almira halted, biting her lip. He, however, glanced back, and seeing her standing despondently before the guards, beckoned her impatiently.
"Well, come on!"
Behind the string of guards lining the holding room off the main gates, Commander Cullen appeared absorbed in a newly received missive. Before anyone could inquire or observe his reaction to the words, he dropped his arms, relief evident in his face.
"She's alive," he exhaled audibly, speaking to Nightingale and Lady Montilyet, who had crowded around him. "She has been escorted to our forces south by a border patrol from Highever that answered the distress signal."
"Praise the Maker," Nightingale whispered.
She signaled one of her agents.
"Inform Mother Giselle and have her make the announcement immediately," she ordered.
"Cullen," Lord Pavus called out. "Any other details? What about the others?"
The Commander glanced down at the note, his expression clouding once more.
"This is a short report—it only mentions the Inquisitor at this time. Nothing else."
"Any chance they could all be traveling with Evelyn?" he wondered, glancing at the others.
"I honestly can't say. From what I was able to gather, the Qunari scouts underestimated the Venatori numbers…and locations. There were Venatori on the shore, which had been expected, but also farther inland."
Almira froze.
"I have to admit I am shocked at the appalling intelligence this particular unit ran! Are we sure these are elite Qunari operatives? If they were to run an operation as shoddily as they did this one, all the magistrates in Minrathous would be building their vacation homes in the Seheron at long last! I wish I had been asked to go. I should be involved in any missions concerning Venatori! This might have gone very differently had I been there!" Lord Pavus rubbed his temples.
"All we can do is wait for the next report," Lady Montilyet said sadly, staring past the gates.
"At least Evelyn is no longer embroiled in this mess. That should make you—" Lord Pavus stared at her for a moment, a look akin to realization dawning upon him.
"Oh, dear. Blackwall…?"
She said nothing and looked down.
Loud cheers erupted inside the fortress behind them.
"Do not give up hope," Nightingale attempted to console them. "Do not despair."
"I can do without the platitudes, Sister Spymaster," Lord Pavus sulked.
"No, no…She is right. Evelyn is alive... and you know she will not leave anyone behind," Lady Montilyet concluded fervently. "No matter how dire the situation… no matter what the odds."
"I know," Lord Pavus finally retorted with a sigh. "It's just…frustrating. I wish there was more we could do right now."
"I'd like to wait here," Lady Montilyet announced, taking in the bleak, stark room.
"Why don't you come back in—it's too cold," Nightingale suggested. "We'll instruct the messengers to come straight to the hall—"
"No," Lady Montilyet declared stubbornly. "I want to be informed of any developments as soon as possible." She directed her attention to an assistant. "Can you please fetch the clipboard in my office—I'll be conducting my business from here—for now." She staked a spot at a table ordinarily used to process newcomers to the fortress. She sat down and tapped the tabletop pensively. "I need to compose a letter of thanks to Teyrn Cousland. It was fortuitous his guards were so close by and able to respond."
"Josie," Nightingale said gently, leaning down and putting a reassuring arm around her shoulders.
"I'd be glad to keep you company. I doubt I'll be getting much sleep tonight," Lord Pavus commiserated.
He glanced at Almira, who watched everything speechless, her heart heavy.
"I suppose you want to join us?" he asked.
She nodded anxiously.
"Very well," he relented. "Go get Geoffrey. "
She wove through the dispersing, cheering crowd, many remaining behind to offer a prayer of gratitude.
Almira was thankful the Inquisitor had survived.
In her own way, she felt that if it hadn't been for the Inquisitor, she wouldn't have finally found a home, there, in Skyhold. Or met Krem. But although she did feel glad the Inquisitor was alive, it didn't alleviate the dread that weighed in her chest, causing her to occasionally gasp for air as if she were suffocating.
The first day progressed uneventfully.
The second day was perhaps the worst.
The messenger arrived, breathless, foisting his letter in Commander Cullen's hand before he even dismounted his horse.
Except for Almira and Stitches, who remained quietly in a corner hoping not to cause any disturbances in order to remain privy to everything, the others had all circled him, hungry for news, watching him for the smallest reactions that would betray the contents of what his eyes raced through.
"It's from Evelyn," he announced. He raised his eyes to Nightingale and Lady Montilyet after a few moments of perusing the letter. "We need to assemble in the War Room."
At Lady Montilyet's perplexed expression, he added a vague, "To discuss a course of action regarding the alliance…or rather…lack of…"
"Cullen, I do not believe you to be an intentionally cruel man, but could you please enlighten us regarding the fate of the Chargers and the others?" Lord Pavus intervened.
The Commander glanced down at the letter.
"Cassandra is with her," he revealed.
Lord Pavus gestured towards the letter.
"May I?"
"It's not an official report," Commander Cullen quickly explained, drawing the letter closer to himself. "Evelyn says much of what we already knew: that the mission went awry when a greater number of Venatori appeared at the shore. She said they engaged in heavy combat. They split up to seek aid from the forces stationed at the camp nearby, but found them already engaged in a second front. With the camp destroyed, they were unable to regroup as planned. As I said, Cassandra is with her— and they are seeking to locate and rejoin the others once our forces have finished combing through the region."
"We always establish a neutral, alternative rendez-vous point in the event such things should happen," Stitches interrupted, confused. "I am sure our Communications Officer would have coordinated that with the Inquisitor."
Almira watched as Commander Cullen hesitated.
"She did go… No one was there when she arrived. She and Cassandra waited for several hours before firing a distress signal towards Highever's western border."
Almira turned to look at Stitches trying to determine how to react.
"What does it mean?" she leaned closer to him and asked in a whisper.
He did not reply and stared down at his hands instead.
"It could mean a great many things," Lord Pavus stated with unaccustomed helpfulness. "And we shouldn't read much into it. Plans must be adapted constantly in such volatile circumstances."
"Or it could mean they are all dead," Stitches said bitterly.
Almira's hand flew over her mouth, anguish surfacing in her eyes.
"We have never failed to regroup at a rendez-vous point," Stitches argued. "Something is very wrong!"
Lord Pavus would not hear it.
"Just because you never have before, doesn't mean it couldn't happen. I refuse to entertain such lugubrious thoughts until I have proper evidence—and neither should any of you!" he admonished them all warningly.
Almira wandered aimlessly into the courtyard soon after, escaping the heated discussions erupting at the gates. Conjectures, suppositions... She couldn't follow any of it. Instead, she headed towards the dispensary.
After one look at Almira, as she emerged at the door, pale and sickly, her father rushed out from behind his counter. He gathered her in his arms, guarding her in his embrace, his only daughter, always his little one, and attempted to soothe her pain as well as he could. He closed his eyes as the sobs wracked her small frame, filling the room with her grief.
"Baba," she uttered, in a tearful voice, burying her face in his chest.
He held her helplessly; there was nothing he could do to make it all better. Nothing in his arsenal at the dispensary— no herbs, potions, poultices, or compounded solutions— held the cure to healing a broken heart.