Notes: Thank you as always! Lyric is from "The Hunter" by Iced Earth. The choice is meant to be sarcastic.


Chapter 48: Heaven Sent a Hunter


Ser Thrask got his list to Anders a week later. Ser Keran delivered it as he was leaving the clinic for the day. With many Healers now serving, a couple of them could work overnight, but Anders did not supervise that shift. He and Mal were walking out the door to greet Caitlyn, who stood nearby with her staff in hand and a smile on her face, when Keran appeared, bearing his letter sealed with the Templars' Sword of Mercy. Caitlyn's smile became somewhat forced when she noticed him; she expected the message to be for her—but then the young Templar handed it to Anders instead, looking distinctly awkward about the encounter.

"Your Grace," he said, making a quick bow to her.

Caitlyn turned to Anders, eyebrows raised. "You have a message from the Templars? And it looks as if you were expecting it, too."

He was about to explain when another voice interrupted. "Your Grace," Aveline called out. "We have news."

Caitlyn turned around. Accompanying Aveline was a tan-skinned man in light armor, carrying a staff—one of the mages in the Arcane Guard. She was pretty sure she knew who he was. "It's Alain, isn't it?" she said to the mage. "You're the one from Starkhaven who went with Thrask that day."

He nodded. "Yes, Your Grace. I joined the Guard because... well... even with the changes that you and the Grand Cleric ordered, the Circle of Kirkwall is a difficult place, with all due respect. I mean no offense."

"And I take none," she assured him. She lowered her voice. "We are dissatisfied with those changes too, but reform may have to start small."

Aveline continued. "Enchanter Alain and I met with the leaders of the so-called Front for Resolution. We did not speak with Grace, most likely because she knows Alain," she said with a snarl, "but the group also has non-mages in its ranks, which is why they say that they are not really part of the Resolutionists proper—a mage fraternity. They presented us with a mage who they claimed was responsible for the deaths of the innocent Templars."

"I know—knew—that one too," Alain said darkly, "and I believe that he was fully capable of it. I suspected that he followed Decimus, our old leader, in blood magic, though I could never prove that."

"He didn't use blood magic against you, then?" Caitlyn said.

"No," said Aveline. "He put up a fight, but he didn't do that, and he is dead now. I hope that this is the end of it and Grace did not just scapegoat him."

Caitlyn considered what she had just heard. "Keep an eye on them," she finally said, "but don't let them know it."

Anders placed one hand on Mal's shoulder and grinned smugly. "If I may say so, I'm pleased that a mage in the Arcane Guard helped to apprehend this killer. Meredith won't like that at all."

"I don't think that's the most important thing," Aveline said. Anders shrugged, grinning.

As Aveline and Alain left for the guard quarters, Caitlyn walked toward the doors to the inner Keep with Anders and Mal. "Was your letter about this news, then?" she asked Anders.

He shook his head. "I doubt it. I... uh... asked Thrask for something."

Caitlyn's curiosity was piqued now. A guard unbarred the door to the inner Keep, and she ushered the others inside. She smiled at the sound of mabari barks, and in the next moment, the dog bounded into the hall to greet them, Pounce following behind with silent patters.

Anders got to his knees to pet the cat as Caitlyn and Mal hugged the dog. "Down!" Mal exclaimed as Baldwin tried to lick his face. "Sit!"

Anders strapped his staff to his back and scooped up the cat, adjusting Keran's letter to the bend of his right elbow. Caitlyn chuckled and waved her hand, making a glowing geometrical heptagram, a magical ward on the door to the family sitting room, vanish. As they all shuffled inside, human and animal, she closed the door and put the spell back up.

Anders sat down and finally popped the seal on his letter. "I asked Thrask for a list of names of Templars who were with Meredith—those who were personally loyal to her as well as those who supported her harsh approaches."

Caitlyn sat beside him, a frown crossing her face. "For what purpose?"

"For our own information... for now," he said quietly. "It occurred to me that it's important to know whom we can't trust, who the enemy is—and what kind of numbers we face in the Gallows." He read Thrask's brief note. "Oh, Maker bless him. He actually designated whether each one is a crony or a supporter of her policies—or both. That's why it took a week."

"You asked for this a week ago?" she said. "Were you going to tell me?"

He set down the letter and list, aware that she was hurt. "I was, as soon as it arrived," he assured her. "I'm not going to do anything with it without consulting you."

"But you didn't tell me when you asked him for it."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I wasn't sure if he would even agree, and if he didn't want to, I didn't want him to think that he had to because you were also demanding it. When he did agree, I assumed he would write it and send it the next day, and that I would share it with you then. I didn't realize it would mean keeping a secret from you for a week."

She considered that, nodding in forgiveness. "Let's see the list, then."

He unfolded the second parchment. They both took in their breaths sharply at the size of the ink-stained area, where Thrask's scratchy writing listed a name and an explanation of why that name was on the list. Caitlyn made a quick estimate and then groaned, closing her eyes briefly. "There are at least thirty names," she said in dismay.

Anders was scanning the list as well. "A majority of them are labeled 'supports policies' only, not 'personal loyalist,'" he said, "and... wow, I need to reward Thrask for this. He even specified whether a Templar supports many, most, or all of her policies. The ones who support 'many' of them might yet be persuadable, and more events like Alain helping apprehend mage criminals could help. But, on the other hand..." He sighed and scowled, pointing at one specific name on the parchment.

Caitlyn opened her eyes and looked at where his finger was stabbing. Immediately next to his fingertip was written, Cullen Rutherford, Knight-Captain. Supports most policies.

She met Anders' gaze and sighed in disappointment. "I had hopes when he stood up to Trentwatch and talked to Leliana."

"He did the right thing once. That doesn't make him a friend to our cause."

She closed her eyes again and rubbed them. "I guess it doesn't."

"Are you finished reading the letter?" Mal spoke up from the divan on which he was seated, Baldwin's head lying on his lap as the dog sprawled across the piece of furniture. "Because I have a question about something that a Healer did today, and it has to do with something you taught me, Father, so I didn't want to ask until we were alone." He scowled briefly. "I wish I could let other people know that I can do magic too."

"Someday," Caitlyn told him, though it seemed to her that she was lying to all of them now when she said it. Nothing was changing anymore. Meredith had somehow gotten Orsino to side with her, blocking any additional reforms to the Circle. She had a network of allies and her agent in Kirkwall, Mettin, had a violent, radical mob of supporters. And according to this letter, she had the majority of Kirkwall Templars on her side in one way or another.

"We are finished with the letter," Anders said, glancing quickly at Caitlyn and raising his eyebrows in alarm at her dour expression. "Ask away, son."


Meredith was visibly disgruntled when she was told that Alain, a mage, had brought the Templars' murderer to justice. She had nothing to say other than a gruff statement of grudging approval that the killer was dead, stomping toward the Gallows in irritation after the brief audience with Caitlyn and Aveline.

The Grand Cleric had not been present at all; a brother in the Chantry had explained that she was busy with "matters of the faith" when Caitlyn's messenger asked if she would like to be present to inform Meredith. Caitlyn was suspicious at first, because Petrice had become very sensitive to Meredith's attempts to usurp her authority and rarely avoided an opportunity to poke a finger in Meredith's eye, but after a moment's consideration, she decided that this was not likely to be one of the more exciting occasions—and as it had turned out, she was right.

After she returned to the Keep, Anders was less sanguine. "I was thinking about the Grand Cleric's lack of interest in exulting over Meredith today, and I remembered the confrontation at the Gallows last week when she wasn't there."

"She isn't our enemy," Caitlyn chided gently. "She has fought Meredith on every occasion."

"But with what motive? I can accept that she agrees with some of what we believe about mages, and that's why she doesn't mind making mild reforms, but what she really likes is power. That, and promoting her religion—her version of her religion. When Meredith undermines her power, she'll fight back, and it happens to help us and the cause, but will she defend you in all things?"

Caitlyn gazed ahead. It was true that Petrice had not been very active in matters concerning Caitlyn's own sphere lately, other than the execution, and now someone had said that she was busy with something. What was she up to instead? I shouldn't need to rely on her, she thought at once, banishing the idea rather than exploring it. If I have to look to a priest to back everything I do, that is weak and people will see who really runs Kirkwall. Viscount Dumar was weak in this way, but I will not be. I don't need to lean too heavily on her.

"I'm not going to rely on her to defend me in everything," she finally replied to Anders. "I need to be able to defend myself rather than hiding behind a priest's robes. I went to the Gallows last week to handle Meredith myself rather than allowing her to spread her venom unchecked. As a mage who lived my whole life as an apostate, I must have support from a high priest, but ultimately, Meredith's fight about the Circle is with us."

"That's true," said Anders, "but it doesn't explain what Petrice is up to."

"She is the Grand Cleric of Kirkwall, and unlike Elthina, she actually takes some interest in the city—even if her motive is to keep the people of Lowtown and Darktown with her. She has said that the rampant poverty and hunger are disgraceful. It's been less than a year. We're still used to a Grand Cleric who is good for nothing except counseling a prince, letting Meredith do whatever in the Void she pleases, and plotting treason to usurp more power."

Anders considered that, finally nodding.


A week later.

Although Meredith had been insistent that the City Guard would need Templar support to help "solve" the case of the "missing" Templars, she had never made that same offer to Caitlyn regarding Mettin's violent mob or Mettin himself. Caitlyn certainly would not have accepted it, because she knew that if Meredith had made that request, it would have been for a nefarious purpose—most likely to thwart arrests, perhaps also to spy on the Guard and on Caitlyn's strongest allies therein. Nonetheless, she deeply resented the fact that Meredith had not even mentioned it. It is because she wishes the attack had been more successful, she thought bitterly a week after Aveline and Alain had reported to her. It was quite bad enough, but the assassin's goal was to kill everyone there, perhaps especially Anders—until the moment that he saw me. I presented an even better target to him. He wanted me dead, and Meredith wishes that his attack had succeeded at that.

That same day, word reached Kirkwall that Mettin and several of his followers had left town. It was only a rumor, but the Guard had been unable to find any of them, even after aggressively questioning people in Darktown. All that those people had to say was that there had been a group in a certain hideaway, and that various people had come and gone from it, but no one had ever managed to catch all of them at once. Furthermore, no one in Darktown had consistently seen anyone matching the dead assassin's description. He might have been in and out, they said, but lots of people were in and out. No one with harmless intent, none of the desperately poor, wanted to risk watching strangers too terribly closely in Darktown. An examination of the hideaway itself turned up nothing, not even supplies that could have been used for bomb-making. If Mettin and his gang had been there, they were there no longer.

"If they really have left town for fear of mass arrests, then good riddance... I suppose," Caitlyn said when Aveline reported this to her. "I did intend that execution to be a deterrent. I just hoped that we could catch Mettin. I'm afraid that he has merely led them somewhere else to plot, or worst of all, to one of our northern adversaries."

Anders, who had been present, spoke up. "If they did flee, they might have wanted to avoid the main roads for fear of being spotted. Perhaps the Dalish could tell you if they were seen anywhere, if they tried to leave via the trails on the Sundermount."

"It's a thought," Caitlyn acknowledged. "That's only one possibility, and they must know that the Dalish are supposed to protect the Sundermount from criminals, since the treaty was so controversial, but it's possible."

"If they made themselves look like travelers and said they were only passing through, the Dalish should have left them alone," he pointed out.

"That's true. All right. I'll ask."


Aveline disagreed with Caitlyn's decision to go to the Sundermount herself; she felt that as a head of state, Caitlyn should summon her subjects to her. Caitlyn saw it differently. Although Marethari saw that Caitlyn supported them and therefore might recognize the necessity of accepting her clan as subjects of Kirkwall, many of the elves profoundly disliked all humans and saw themselves as an independent, if small, nation-state. It wasn't worth offending the clan and perhaps even putting Marethari in a bad position with her people by imperiously summoning the Keeper to the city. Several guards accompanied Caitlyn and Merrill—who wanted to go along—but they remained with the Dalish sentry guarding the camp.

"I advise you to make your business brief," the elf told them in frosty tones. "There is trouble afoot and my people will not be pleased to see you right now."

"What kind of trouble?" Caitlyn asked.

The sentry glowered. "Trouble from your Chantry."

"Is it a group of fanatics led by a former Templar?" she said, her heart pounding. Could they possibly be so lucky? "They aren't with the Chantry. They are fugitive outlaws."

"We consider them fanatics, and there are Templars with them," said the elf, who was practically spitting out the words now, "but I assure you, these are most definitely with your Chantry. See for yourself." He held his spear aside so that she and Merrill could continue up the road and enter the camp.

Caitlyn had realized what was going on as soon as the sentry explained. Her deal with the Sabrae clan, the treaty between Marethari and Petrice, had apparently faltered—as she had feared. Was this what Petrice had been up to lately? She felt ill at the thought. As she approached the camp, she stole a glance at Merrill, whose face was rapidly becoming mutinous.

"If Petrice's people have violated the terms of the deal, I'll make sure they are sanctioned," she said quietly. Merrill did not respond. Her jaw became set as they entered the camp.

Caitlyn glanced around, the sinking feeling increasing as she took in her surroundings. The Dalish artisan, from whom she had purchased goods before, was guarding his handicraft possessively, staring blackly at the back of a Templar who was stalking away from the table. At least the Templar was not carrying anything, so he had not confiscated anything from the elves, but clearly there had been something that he had not liked to see. A magical good? Caitlyn intended to find out, but before she approached the craftsman, her attention was diverted by the sight of a group of young hunters arguing heatedly with a knot of Chantry folk in full regalia, guarded by another Templar.

This latter confrontation looked to potentially become violent. All the hunters were armed, as was the Templar. Caitlyn made her decision and walked quickly to this group.

"What's going on here?" Caitlyn cut in, interrupting an increasingly aggressive argument about the existence of beings called Mythal and Elgar'nan.

A hunter spoke first, sneering. "Did the shemlen priest send you to do her dirty work? Have you come to threaten us with your city's swords now?"

"No one 'sent' me!" Caitlyn protested, taken aback. "I am the Viscountess of Kirkwall, and nobody 'sends' me anywhere. I came here of my own accord to ask your Keeper about something else entirely! I didn't even know that this was happening." She turned to another hunter. "Have these people broken the terms of the deal? What has been going on?"

"What is the point of violating a terrible deal?" retorted the second hunter. "It was loose enough that they did not have to violate anything! That Templar bothered us about our statues of the Creators that we set up to honor them. He and these women say prayers of protection whenever they see them, completely disrespectful to us. His 'friend' has even bothered Master Ilen about his figurines of the Creators. That is why he is walking away from his table right now," he said with a glower at the Templar that Caitlyn had noticed leaving the craftsman's table. "These shemlen have been here for two weeks—"

Two weeks! It has been two weeks since I had the confrontation with Meredith at the Gallows that Petrice wasn't present for! Caitlyn realized.

"—and they have left the boundaries of our camp when we tell them to, but they set up their camp just outside and venture back inside whenever they please!" He pointed into a copse of trees. Caitlyn scanned it; a red and gold Chantry banner waved from a flagpole next to a tent.

Groaning inwardly, she turned to the Chantry priest who appeared to be in charge. "What's your account of this?" she said, trying not to be overly hostile with them either until she had accounts from both sides.

"We have done more than the treaty obligates," she said, her voice icy too. "The terms only stated that we would not interrupt their pagan rituals or enter their landships. We have also agreed to leave their camp boundaries when they demand, and they always demand it extremely rudely. We have set up camp nearby, as you can see, Your Grace—"

"So that you'll see if we try to leave!" snapped the first hunter.

"We have respected your boundaries," said the priest. "We have even respected the fact that your leader, your 'Keeper,' is a mage, though that came as a surprise to us. We did not realize that Her Grace the Grand Cleric had dealt with another mage."

"The Keeper of a Dalish clan is always a mage," Caitlyn said. "And I will interject now to say that no one will do anything to Keeper Marethari. She is an old lady, as you have obviously seen. She has not caused any harm from living her life outside a Circle, any more than I have from living outside the Circles." Probably less, she thought. "No one will apprehend her."

"And no one has," continued the priest, "even though the treaty also said nothing about taking a hands-off approach to Dalish mages. She also has a young man with her, an elf mage, whom she says she is training as her 'First.'"

Merrill let out a wretched cry at this. The hunters sneered in contempt at her. "You had your chance," one of them said. "You betrayed her teachings."

"Are you—" began the priest.

Caitlyn interrupted at once, not wanting any further discussion of Merrill's magic or, especially, why she had left her clan. Let them think that she had "betrayed" Marethari by converting from the Dalish religion. "Merrill is a trained mage," Caitlyn said, holding her staff at a diagonal in front of Merrill in a protective gesture, "and she is under my protection."

"Very well. We are not here to arrest mages. The Templars are here to protect us with their swords. My point is, they have not interfered with this male elven mage either, even though they think he escaped from Kirkwall's Circle. We have done more than the treaty requires, Viscountess Hawke. We have shed no blood and have only spoken peacefully to these elves of the Maker and Andraste. They have been inveterate in their hostility to us."

"Your prophet Andraste was a friend of elves," a hunter said, "for political purposes. She needed Elvhen weapons and Elvhen soldiers to support her cause and her power, much like you, Viscountess!" he said with a snarl at Caitlyn. "But your Chantry has not been a friend. Your so-called Divines excised Shartan's part from your Chant of Light. Your soldiers drove us from the Dales. These people do not recognize even the existence of our gods, or they defame them by calling them demons—as if we are babies, as if we do not enter the Beyond too and know what demons are!"

"You are Children of the Maker," protested the priest. "It is one thing that humans and elves have in common. There are those who think that the qunari race are Children of the Maker as well, since they too can enter the Fade. But you definitely are, and we just want you to return to Him."

The hunter scoffed. "We all know what your head priest thinks of the qunari. They are our enemy too, but that does not make her our friend. She must think the same of us."

"The Grand Cleric hates the Qun ideology," said the priest. "She holds that the Chant is open to all who would receive it—"

"No, she wants to force it on everyone."

"Enough!" Caitlyn roared. She glared at the hunters and the Chantry folk. "I think it is time for all of you to separate. Perhaps, mother, you should take your sisters and Templars back to your camp for a time to let everyone cool off. I came because I need to speak with the Keeper about something unrelated, but I will also consult with her about the path forward for this... situation."

The priest huffed but did not disagree, and in fact, she seemed to think it a good idea. She gestured to her fellows to withdraw. The hunter who seemed to be the leader of the Dalish group scoffed as well and led his group away.

Caitlyn took a deep breath to try to calm herself. She was becoming furious—and alarmed. I should have known that Petrice would do this, she thought as she walked toward the area of the camp where Marethari had been for previous visits. It could be worse—blood could have been spilled—but this is quite bad enough. This was never going to end well. Religious conversion only succeeds when someone is unhappy—or the proselytizer makes threats. The Dalish are perfectly satisfied with their religion. That leaves threats and menace. It apparently has not reached that point yet, but it's going to soon.

Merrill remained silent as they approached Marethari's aravel. Caitlyn realized that her friend had not said anything, and she stole another glance at her. The young elf's face was set, her expression dark. Unease filled Caitlyn as she realized that she would have to talk with her very extensively on the way back. Merrill was probably feeling betrayed, she realized.

Marethari's aravel was open to the clean mountain air, though she and her new apprentice were hidden behind the sails. Merrill gazed at the male elf who had replaced her and completely failed to suppress her glower. Her old mentor gave her a sad look. "Your Grace," she said to Caitlyn. "I am glad to see you again, Merrill," she added quietly.

"You replaced me," Merrill accused.

She glanced at her new First, then back at Merrill and Caitlyn. "You chose your path, da'len. I am old and will not live forever."

"Another thing lost to our people," Merrill whispered.

Marethari gazed sadly at her. "The clan must have one who can be Keeper when I have gone to the Creators. This is Huon. He and his wife Nyssa joined us last winter."

Huon gazed up at Caitlyn and Merrill. "Your Grace. Merrill."

"Huon escaped from the Circle of Magi in Kirkwall six months ago," Marethari said, her voice very low. "He destroyed his phylactery, so they cannot prove anything."

"I don't turn in other mages to the Templars," Caitlyn said immediately. "Even when they are doing evil, I fight them myself. And of course you must protect your clan. It is a pleasure to meet you, Huon." She turned back to Marethari. "Keeper. I actually came here to ask about something that has nothing to do with what's going on in your camp. I didn't know anything about that, but now that I have seen it, I certainly want to talk with you about it too."

"What was your first purpose, then?" Marethari asked.

"Have your people seen a group of travelers passing through the mountain trails recently? Meaning the past two or three weeks?" she asked.

Marethari shook her head. "We have not. Is this the group responsible for the attack on the Healers in your Keep? These Chantry folk brought the news."

"We're not sure how much direct responsibility they share, but they definitely incited and inspired the assassin," said Caitlyn. "They left the city."

"Well, I wish I could give you an affirmative answer, but unfortunately we have not seen any such group passing. They must have taken another road."

Caitlyn sighed, nodding. "It was just a chance—but I am still glad I came, because I had no idea of what was happening here. Your hunters spoke to me and gave me their side. Is there anything you want me to tell the Grand Cleric? I could ask her to tell these people to stand down if they are too aggressive..."

Marethari gave Caitlyn a sad, weary smile. "Your Grand Cleric is a true believer. I understand why you allied with her; your cause is important too, but I took her measure when we negotiated this deal. And the Chantry folk have not violated the treaty. The problem, I'm afraid, is that sometimes people are simply too different in their customs and ways of life to live together in peace."

"But it's not about differences. They are trying to convert your clan."

"Their faith demands it. If the great empire of Elvhenan still existed, no doubt my people would seek to convert yours. If we believe strongly that we are right about something, be it religious, political, or anything else, we seek to change others' minds. It is about differences. This is the nature of all thinking, feeling people," she said. "I commend you for trying to forge peace. I hoped too that it would work out. Even an old woman, who has seen the world at its worst many times, can hope," she said, a tear forming in the corner of one eye. "But I am sadly unsurprised that it has happened this way instead. I... may have to lead my people off this mountain, to a different location, to avoid an ugly confrontation that may escalate to violence," she finished.

Caitlyn gasped. "You don't need to do that! I can tell Petrice to have these people back off."

"You rule the city of Kirkwall, but your power does not extend to the Chantry," said Marethari, "and what they are doing is permitted by the treaty."

"The hunters were angry at the Chantry folk for making their camp so close to the boundaries of yours," Caitlyn said. "They think it's so that they can see if your clan does leave."

"The treaty refers to the Sundermount. If we leave, its provisions are null and void. They can follow us, but if we leave the lands under Kirkwall's authority, they may run afoul of another sovereign territory's law."

"But if you leave, you give up your ownership of the Sundermount!"

Marethari gazed unhappily at her. "That is true, but it may be what is best."


Merrill fell silent again as she and Caitlyn descended from the camp. She clammed up entirely when they met up with the guards again, and as the group headed back toward Kirkwall, Caitlyn stole occasional glances at her to check on her. To Caitlyn's alarm and dismay, Merrill's expression became steadily stonier as they neared the city.

At last the guards dispersed as they reached the Keep. Caitlyn headed into a small audience chamber in the outer Keep, hoping that Merrill would follow her. She did, though the expression on her face was now so dark and angry that Caitlyn thought she might have made a mistake in having this talk right now. Bracing herself, she closed the door tightly and sat down across from Merrill.

"Merrill," she began, leaning forward, gazing at her friend compassionately, "I see that you're angry, and I don't blame you. But please understand that I did not want this to happen, and I will do what I can to fix it."

Merrill snapped. "You did not want this to happen?" she said mockingly. "You made the Keeper sign a treaty that gave the priest permission to do it!"

"I negotiated that treaty to try to protect the clan! Otherwise there would have been no rules for what Chantry folk could do if they encountered the clan on the mountain. They could desecrate your people's religious icons instead of just glaring at them. They could attack unprovoked. I know what Petrice is like and I wanted to protect the Dalish from her worst impulses."

"You should have left us be!" Merrill exploded. "You announced to the whole Small Council, including her, that you were deeding the Sundermount to my clan. That was what gave her the idea of sending missionaries! She might have left us alone if she did not know that we were there."

"Merrill," Caitlyn said patiently, "it's not a secret that the clan is there. She would have found out. I deeded the mountain to them to make their right to be there very clear."

"A right that your Chantry folk clearly do not respect! Oh, they observe the camp boundary—but they made very sure that they would be able to watch us."

Caitlyn realized that Merrill was saying "us" and "we" despite having left the clan several years ago. Something suddenly occurred to her, and she did not wait to voice the thought. "Merrill, you say 'us' and 'we.' Is some of this reaction anger and jealousy of Marethari's new First?"

Merrill started. Her eyes widened, and a deep, intense fury suffused her face. Caitlyn realized in a split second that she had made a mistake, but it was too late. Merrill glowered and began to rise from her seat. "The Keeper has the right to train whomever she wishes."

"You told her that she replaced you."

"She did. It doesn't matter. Your treaty invited all of this to happen, but that is fine by you, isn't it, because you have to keep your great Chantry ally with you to protect your power and your cause!" Merrill raged. "What does a small clan of Dalish elves matter compared to the rights of Andrastian mages in their Circles?"

"Merrill, that's unfair," Caitlyn objected, trying not to blow up at her. "This is about much more than Andrastian Circle mages. It's about all mages. I was never in a Circle, Anders is not really Andrastian, and the bad Templars steal mages from Dalish clans too."

"And there are two Templars lurking about the camp even now!"

"They won't..."

"If they decide to, your great treaty of 'protection' won't prevent it! You expect that we should trust the good faith of people in an institution that has done nothing but harm to us for centuries!" She stormed toward the door. "I resign from your Small Council, Your Grace."

Shocked and horrified, Caitlyn leaped to her feet. "Merrill! Don't do that! We can talk this out..."

Merrill calmed slightly, some of the anger in her face turning to sadness and resignation. "I cannot be part of this. My place is with my people."

With that, she opened the door and shuffled out without another look.

Caitlyn stared bleakly at the open door as Merrill left. Part of her screamed that she should go after her friend, but another part said that Merrill would only attack her if she did, and the guards would then apprehend Merrill if they saw. She needs to be alone, Caitlyn told herself miserably. And I need to think about what to do now. Add new clauses to the treaty to protect mages, definitely. But what will be enough to make this right? Petrice won't agree to anything that removes her right to send missionaries, and I'm afraid that is the only thing that will satisfy Merrill... or several of the hunters. I agree with the Dalish, because that's their home and we all have the right to deny proselytizers entrance to our homes, but there is no way I can get that into the treaty. What can I do? What in the Void can I do? And if they do leave the mountain, how will Merrill ever forgive me? I'll lose a friend for good over this. How can I convince her that I really did mean well and that some type of compromise is the only way that they can stay on the Sundermount?

In the echoes of Merrill's retreat, her thoughts provided no answers.


That evening, Anders and Mal could tell that she was upset. Mal cuddled next to his mother after dinner, when the family sat down in the sitting room to read and unwind from the day. "It's going to be all right, Mother," he told her.

She managed a weak smile and wrapped her arm around him. "Thank you."

Anders gazed at them from the chair in which he was seated. "It's Merrill, isn't it? I heard about what you found on the mountain."

That surprised her; she had not been able to tell him about it in detail. "Yes," she said. "She resigned from the Small Council in anger... but it's what she said that bothers me more. She accused me of disregarding her clan, her people, for my own power and cause..."

"She's wrong, then. That's not what you did."

"It's not what I meant to do," Caitlyn said heavily, "but... I wonder if, in a way, she's right. I asked the Dalish to compromise, but what right have I to ask that of them? They've been made to compromise everything they are for ages. And I wanted to protect them, yes, but I did write this treaty so that I wouldn't lose my most critical ally."

"Mages have been made to compromise everything we are, too," he pointed out, "and in a way, it is worse for us. Elves in Dalish clans can have families. There is no organized, concerted effort anymore to round up all the Dalish and force them into alienages. Humans mostly don't like them, but they accept their presence if they keep to themselves and avoid running afoul of trespassing and poaching laws. That's not true for mages."

Caitlyn sighed heavily as Mal leaned into her side. "It's difficult," she said, her voice small. "Nothing has been easy or clear-cut. And I still need to find a way to give the clan better terms and save my friendship with Merrill."

Anders got up and walked over to sit on her other side, draping an arm around her shoulders. "Give her time," he urged. "She's very upset right now, so let her think it over and come around first."


The next day was a busy one, and Caitlyn barely had time to sit down with the treaty in front of her to write new clauses into it. At last, toward the end of the day, she unrolled the official document on her desk and took a blank sheet for note-taking. She had just dipped her pen into the inkwell when a knock sounded on the door that she recognized as Varric's.

Suppressing a curse, she flung down the pen. "Varric? Is that you?"

"The one and only," he said, but she could tell that the levity was forced. He sounded very anxious. "There's a problem, Hawke."

"Come in," she said at once. He opened the door and passed into the room, taking a seat across from her desk. His face was deeply troubled.

"Merrill left her room at the Hanged Man last night," he said, "and she hasn't been back. I have not seen her at all today."

Fear shot down Caitlyn's spine. "She didn't say where she was going?"

"Nope. Do you have any ideas?"

"She might have gone to the Sundermount," she said. "We had an argument about the Dalish clan and the treaty I negotiated. Chantry people are there, and it's creating conflict. And the Keeper has taken a new apprentice. Merrill resigned from the Small Council saying that her place was with her people."

"Oh, that's not good," Varric said.

"But she might also have gone back to the house in the alienage, I suppose. She was angry about the clan, but she seemed to accept that she was no longer part of it. In fact, I think some of her anger was due to that realization."

"It's on the way," Varric said. "I can check there first."

"We can check there. I haven't been as good a friend to her as I should have been. I'm going."


The elves of Kirkwall's alienage were disturbed and secretive. Caitlyn and Varric saw pairs of eyes watching them from behind dusty, draped windows, but no one came out. Finally, she decided to take a risk. When she removed the hood of her cloak, revealing her distinctive red hair, a woman recognized her and emerged from her house.

"Your Grace," the elf woman said, gazing at the ground, "we did not realize that it was you."

"It's all right," Caitlyn said. "My friend and I are here to look for Merrill. Has anyone in the alienage seen her today?"

The woman's husband emerged gingerly from the house and stood by his wife, placing a hand on her waist, as they both trembled. The elven couple seemed to be making a decision about what to say. Finally the woman spoke again. "She was taken," she whispered.

Caitlyn's face fell, eyes widening in horror. "What?" she breathed. "By Templars?"

The woman nodded miserably. "She arrived yesterday. We urged her to leave her little house and return to safety, but she... cursed us with a spell, which forced us out of the house. There must have been people watching her, because they came today and entered the house by force. They did that Templar thing to fight magic. There were lights inside for a few minutes. We heard shouts, and then we saw them carrying her out, knocked out cold."

"Oh Maker," Caitlyn whispered. "Did you recognize any of the Templars?"

"I..." She glanced at her husband, eyes wide with fear, then swallowed hard as she turned back to face her Viscountess. "The Knight-Commander was leading them, and very smug she was. Please, Your Grace, I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but please—"

"None of Meredith's people will know who told me about this," Caitlyn said. "Thank you for telling me. For your loyalty to Merrill." She took a shuddering breath, barely able to think. Fury at Meredith and personal guilt warred with terror for Merrill and a rapidly growing resolve to get her friend out of that place immediately. "Take care of yourselves."

The elven couple nodded at once, guessing her intention but not daring to speak it. "Of course, Your Grace."


Caitlyn burst into the inner Keep with Varric. Anders was waiting for her just inside, very alarmed at her absence. She had not told him where she was going; she had left with Varric immediately, and the guards had only been able to say that they had seen her and the dwarf hooded and cloaked. "What in the Void has happened?" he exclaimed, taking her arm.

"They got Merrill," she burst out. She clung to him, feeling her legs almost give out, reaching for his feather-clad shoulders to steady herself. "That bitch Meredith personally led a group of Templars into the alienage, and they were seen taking her out of her house unconscious! This is my fault, Anders. I failed her, and I've got to get her out. She follows the Dalish religion and may still be a blood mage. They'll kill her! We don't have a moment to lose."

Anders was struck silent for a moment as he took in the dreadful news. At last he nodded. "Of course. But—are you sure that you should be involved—"

"I let her down!" Caitlyn burst out. "I don't care what title I have! Her point was that I put my power above her people, and I damn well won't be selfish when she herself is in danger. I'm going to help break her out of that horrible place, period!"

Anders pulled her gently into the nearest room. Varric followed and closed the door behind them. He sat down with her on a two-seat sofa and took her hands in his. "Darling," he said seriously, "you can't just storm the Gallows. We need to bring in others. Selby runs the Mage Underground... and we'll need a Templar too, probably, if the bastards have cut her already. Thrask..."

Caitlyn took deep breaths to calm herself. "Yes," she said more reasonably. "You're right. But Anders, we cannot waste time! Can you imagine how much glee that evil bitch would feel to kill Merrill? We have to get her out!"

"I'll get Thrask," said Varric.

"And Mistress Selby lives at home," Anders added. "We'll send a courier. We'll do it as soon as we can, but we do need these people to help." He held her upper arms and gazed compassionately at her.

She breathed deeply one last time before swallowing hard and nodding.


It was late, but the small group met inside the Inner Keep and discussed a plan even when the clocks struck midnight. Thrask had indeed seen Merrill carried into the Circle, and he could confirm that the Templars wasted no time in making a phylactery for her.

"Are you going to be safe doing this?" Caitlyn asked, concerned. "And do they know that you aren't there tonight?"

"I'm supposed to be patrolling Hightown," he said. "You raise a good point, though. I had better remain in case anyone suspects me when they realize that she has escaped. But Keran knows too, and we have a small circle of Templars whom we trust."

"You trusted Samson, and now he's one of Meredith's," said Anders.

"That was a mistake," admitted Thrask, "but these new... friends... are mostly young and relatively new. They have not been corrupted by exposure to her malice and cruelty. Every one that Keran and I trust joined specifically to protect the mages, and several have mage relatives, apostates they're also protecting. They will get Merrill's phylactery out."

"And you know the Darktown tunnels very well," said Mistress Selby. She turned to Caitlyn. "That said, this is illegal, so you should be disguised. And so should you," she added to Anders.

"Well, yes," Caitlyn agreed. She turned back to Thrask. "So—you will get your message to Keran or one of the others, and we'll wait in the tunnels for Mistress Selby's contacts to appear with Merrill?"

He nodded. "Yes, Your Grace."

They did not waste any more time. Caitlyn rose from the table, dismissing the meeting, and they quickly and silently prepared themselves to do their own individual parts in the escape. Anders went to pick up heavy concealing cloaks for them, Mistress Selby sketched a map of the smuggling tunnels for Thrask to give to his friends, and Varric oiled Bianca's mechanism in case it came to that.

They had regrouped and stepped out into the outer Keep when Donnic Hendyr approached them. A familiar elderly Dalish elf stood by him.

"Your Grace," he said to Caitlyn, "the Keeper of the Dalish wishes to speak with you and the Consort privately. I presume it's magic-related."

She and Anders exchanged nervous, fearful glances as they stepped aside to talk quietly with Marethari. The elderly woman's face was sorrowful.

"I assume, based on whom I see here, that you know what happened to Merrill and you mean to get her out," said the Keeper.

Caitlyn nodded. "I feel responsible. I hate so much that this happened—"

Marethari took a deep breath and continued, sadness in her words. "Merrill left in a fury, and she is reckless when she is angry, so I am sure that you are not wholly responsible for this. But recriminations can come later. For now... I did not know exactly what had happened until I came to the Keep, but when I went to sleep tonight, I had a frightening experience in the Fade concerning her."

Anders drew his breath sharply. He seemed to have guessed what was next.

"The pride demon that has 'advised' her before was very close to her again. I could not get close to her in the Fade, but the demon was close to convincing her that she had to let it take her over in order for her to escape the Circle."

Caitlyn covered her mouth with her hands. "Did it—" she choked out.

"No, it did not," said Marethari heavily, "but... if, during this escape..." She trailed off and took another breath, gazing past them as she did. "You must promise me that you will do what is necessary, no matter how hard it is."

Caitlyn staggered backward, palms grabbing at the stone wall for support as she fell against it. She gaped at Marethari. "You're asking us to—" She could not finish.

Anders was even more distraught, due to the intimately personal experience of spirit contact that he had. He could only stare at her in mute horror.

"You must," the Keeper croaked, turning aside. "You must. The demon has become very strong. It must not be set free. You must do the necessary. I have left Huon in charge of the clan," she added, seemingly apropos of nothing.

Caitlyn's eyes were closed as she trembled against the wall, lost in her own morass of paralyzing guilt. "I can't," she whispered. "She's my friend."

Anders suddenly gasped as something occurred to him. He took a step away from the Keeper, eyes wide, a flash of bluish-white momentarily appearing in them. He steadied himself, stared at her in shock, and nodded. She stared back sadly at him. Turning away from her at once, he stepped over to Caitlyn and drew her gently away from the wall. "Come," he said softly.

She fell forward into his arms but regained her footing swiftly. Breathing heavily to calm herself, she finally opened her eyes and nodded at him. "Let's do this. If we can get her out, nobody will have to put down an abomination."

Anders gazed back miserably at Marethari as they left.


Varric, Marethari, Anders, and Caitlyn waited in the tunnels of Darktown for the rescuers to appear with Merrill. Thrask had warned them that it might not be possible to smuggle Merrill and her phylactery out tonight, depending on what was happening at the Gallows and how closely Meredith was watching. Caitlyn knew that she was exhausted; her body and mind were screaming at her for sleep, but she also knew that she would not sleep well if she could settle down her anxiety and emotional tumult enough to rest at all—which she could not. There was nothing to do right now; the tunnels were mercifully free of smugglers, so she just sat next to Anders and gripped both his hands tightly with her own as she waited.

Finally a deliberate series of lantern flashes illuminated the dark tunnel ahead of them. Anders leaped to attention; evidently it was a code used by the Mage Underground. Caitlyn and Varric got to their feet and moved forward. She turned back when she realized that Marethari was not following.

"Go ahead," said the elderly woman, gazing at the ground. "I must stay."

That was odd... but Anders took Caitlyn's arm and urged her forward with an even stranger urgency. It was as though he wanted to get her away from the Keeper, she thought... but her mind was still too much a swirl of emotions and exhaustion right now to think too hard about it. She walked on with the others until they came upon a trio of people—all civilians, no Templars among them; the Templars' part had ended at the Gallows. They were carrying a large crate.

"Ah, there you are," one of them said, setting the crate down and getting to his knees to unlock it. Another fished in her pocket and presented Varric with a glass vial filled with deep red blood.

"What should we do with that?" Caitlyn asked, wanting to destroy the foul thing. "Can they gather up blood if it's spilled and use it again?"

"We assume so, and that's why we destroy them with fire. There will always be a mage nearby who can do that!" joked the rescuer.

Caitlyn moved back into the shadows. These people had no idea who she was behind her heavy dark hood, and that was how she wanted it. "Thank you for helping our friend," she said. "We can take her from here."

"Glad to do it," grunted the man as his fellows turned aside to depart. He unlocked the last latch on the crate and stepped back, giving them a nod as he left with his comrades.

The lid of the crate opened on its hinges as Merrill got to her feet. Caitlyn could barely suppress her glower of outrage at the sight before her. Merrill was wearing heavy, prudish, ill-fitting robes in crimson and gold, the sunburst symbol of the Chantry on the skirt.

"Deliberate disrespect," muttered Anders. "A statement of ownership. That evil woman must have wanted to parade Merrill before us as a trophy."

Merrill looked utterly destroyed, gazing at Caitlyn as the latter lowered her hood, sorrow and regret in her elven eyes. "You got me out," she whispered.

Caitlyn rushed forward to hug her. "Hey," she said, "of course. You're my friend." She hugged her tightly. "And we'll get you out of that stuff too. Do you need anything right now? Did anyone... hurt you?" If they did, she vowed, if there are any more rapists at that place, I will storm the Gallows.

"They cut me," Merrill whimpered. "They cut me and hit me."

"Anything else?" Caitlyn said, her voice so low that only Merrill could hear.

Merrill shook her head, realizing what Caitlyn was asking. "No. Not that. But... I understand now. I understand why this is so important to you..."

"Shh," Caitlyn said. "You're out now and you're never going back."

"There are still mages in there. There are children in there."

"That's why we care," said Caitlyn as Merrill drew away from her, misery still in her eyes. "You're all right? The Keeper is here, Merrill. She came too." She did not see Anders blanch at this.

Nor did Merrill, who looked up with hope and genuine happiness for the first time. "She did?" she said in awe, steadying herself on her feet.

"She is waiting in this very tunnel," Caitlyn said. "Let's see her!"

Anders walked quickly ahead of the others as they followed. Caitlyn tried to catch up, but he only put more distance between himself and them as she did. "Anders!" she exclaimed. "What in the Void—"

At the end of the tunnel, Marethari was on her feet, but she was bent over, her staff rolling at her feet. "Keeper?" exclaimed Caitlyn in alarm.

Marethari stood upright, but something was very, very wrong. For a brief moment, her eyes blazed with an unearthly, sinister light, and she spoke with a voice that was not her own. "I was deceived," she rumbled. "The old one tricked me. But I laugh last, for this vessel is far more powerful!"

Merrill and Varric had caught up with them, and a horrified cry escaped Merrill as she understood what was happening. Caitlyn froze in place, gaping in terror at the sight before her. Keeper Marethari grew tall, broad, and spikes protruded from her transforming body as Pride, now grown to an even stronger form, took her over.

Anders let out a roar and charged the demon, the light of Justice crackling righteously down his neck and arms but not blazing from his eyes. He was still in control. Caitlyn suddenly understood what Marethari had really meant by her plea at the Keep. It wasn't to kill Merrill, she thought, readying a spell instinctively. She meant herself! She sacrificed herself, offering herself to the demon because that was the only way to protect Merrill!

Merrill was paralyzed with horror and wretchedness for the first minute of the fight, but after the other two mages had gotten in several fierce, damaging blows, and Varric had landed four bolts, Merrill finally joined the fray.

It was an ugly fight. The demon was powerful, and it now had all the magic that Keeper Marethari was capable of doing. It required every one of them to finally put the thing down, and at the last, the demon seemed to flee her body, returning it to the form of an elderly elf woman.

"It is over," breathed Marethari, lying on the ground.

Merrill leaned in, tears in her eyes. "Keeper," she whispered.

In the next moment, Marethari's eyes blazed brightly again. A feral snarl escaped her mouth, and she lunged for Merrill, a knife in hand.

Merrill drew back, screaming. With her head turned aside, unable to look at what she was doing, she cast a destructive spell that sucked all the life out of Marethari in a ghastly cloud. The Keeper strained for one last moment before falling down dead.

Merrill leaned over Marethari's body. "Keeper," she whispered, her voice becoming a sob. "You... did this for me..."

Caitlyn wobbled on her feet, her tiredness rushing back to her at once. She steadied herself with her staff and leaned against it. "She loved you," she said.

Merrill snapped her head away from Marethari, glaring at Caitlyn with sudden fury in her face. "This wouldn't have happened if your allies hadn't menaced the clan!"

Caitlyn drew back sharply. "I will take responsibility for the situation on the mountain, but you left your place of safety! I didn't get you captured!"

"She was part of getting you out," Anders added. "Which your demon wouldn't have done!"

Merrill looked as if she wanted to hit him, but she drew back instead, bursting into tears. "You hypocrite!" she exclaimed. "How dare you?" She fell to her knees, hovering over Marethari's body, and glared malevolently at both of them. "You cared about nothing but your own power, your politics, your cause—"

"You said you understood after seeing the Circle," Caitlyn snapped.

"But my cause matters too! My people were nothing to you but a thing to trade for a powerful ally. And you are the biggest hypocrite in Kirkwall!" she snarled at Anders. "What do you think your Vengeance is?"

"Daisy," Varric said warily, "this isn't helping."

Caitlyn was beyond caring now. "You are impatient, heedless, and unable to learn anything from anyone because you think you know better than anyone else, regardless of what they've seen—including Anders, me, and your own Keeper! You are the one who turned to a demon to get out of the Circle rather than trusting your own friends not to abandon you!"

Varric groaned and closed his eyes.

Merrill rose to her feet, pulling Marethari's body with her. "Leave," she demanded. "Leave me in peace for once!" She turned to Varric. "You may stay. You have been a true friend to me!"

At that, Caitlyn whirled her staff in her hands as if she wanted to cast a hex on Merrill, but she did not. She breathed heavily, glaring at Merrill, before turning aside and storming off, Anders hurrying to keep up with her. Merrill's sobs echoed through the tunnel until they reached Darktown. Caitlyn closed her ears to them and tried not to think of what had just happened. She tugged the hood over her face as she stormed through Darktown.

"Caitlyn," he said as they popped out at the surface at last in Hightown.

"I'm going to the Chantry," she said through clenched teeth, clutching her staff tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. Tiny flames began to shoot from her other hand, vanishing in the night. "I don't care what hour it is. I'm going to the fucking Chantry and I'm going to give Petrice a piece of my mind—"

Anders was stunned; she rarely used that swearword. "Cait, I'm not saying that she doesn't deserve that, because she does, but that's a really bad idea right now. You're furious, you're exhausted, you're leaking magic—"

She stopped cold in front of the steps to the Keep. "I'm going now."

"You'll make it even worse. Sleep, Caitlyn. Sleep, then think it over and decide on what to say. Wait until the morning."

"Don't you tell me what to do, Anders. I'm the Viscountess of Kirkwall and I'm going. Go to bed."

He closed his eyes for a moment, then gazed sadly at her. "Please forgive me for this tomorrow." Raising his staff and pointing it at an angle at her, he cast a hard, intense sleep spell, then caught her as she tumbled. Suppressing a miserable sob, he snapped his staff onto the hook on his back and carried her in both arms into the Keep.


Notes: I know it looks like I'm just cleaning house by tying off both Dalish/Merrill subplots at once, but it was always my intention for them to converge like this.

As I mentioned in a previous chapter, I didn't forget what Petrice is and what her true priority is. Caitlyn did, though.

There is obviously a lot of talking and patching up that must occur in the next chapter, but following that one, there should be something nice for a change.