What is a letter? A bridge in the night
From my soul to your soul; and over it go
Envoys of darkness or envoys of light.
Ladings of blessing or burdens of woe.
—Letters, Amos Russel Wells

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part five

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A CURATED SELECTION FROM A SERIES OF CORRESPONDENCE

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Senator Dorian Pavus,

I received your letter this morning. Thanks for writing so quickly, since I know the journey back to Minrathous couldn't have been easy. I hope you're at least enjoying the warmer weather.

We appreciate your timely warning regarding D's whereabouts. Given everything my prince has said, we are a little surprised he's remained in Tevinter so far, but as long as he's there, he's not here. Please keep us apprised of any change.

Your ambassador's student wants me to say hello for him. Lucky for him, I have just enough room before it's rolled up for the crows.

Regards,
Harding
Starkhaven

—

My very dear Harding,

It's always a pleasure to hear your voice, so to speak. I missed your irrepressible cheer the moment we were out the door of An Taigh Gheal, and this whole journey back I've looked forward to our correspondence resuming, even if I have no crows and must resort to regular horses. That sounds like flattery, but alas, it's sincerely meant. You have no idea how refreshing it is to speak with someone in spycraft who directly speaks their mind without three layers of obfuscation atop it.

D (and how delightful! Code names!) has remained in Perivantium for now. It's not officially exile—even the Archon would find that tasteless—but he would find it difficult, if not impossible, to show his face in Minrathous at the moment without humiliating censure. There is a small estate which belonged to some derelict aunt of his where he's staying for the time being. He may be on the outs with the Senate, but he is fabulously wealthy all the same, and if he could learn to keep his great mouth shut the coin would buy his respect again even if his words wouldn't. But then, if he were capable of such discernment, there would have been no garden assassins, and you and I would have never struck up our friendship. Oh, how the gods guide our steps!

On that note, I would like to begin correspondence with Kirkwall, just in case I need to reach them quickly. Have you some counterpart on the mountain I might write? Preferably someone at least a tenth as delightful as you?

Sen. Dorian Pavus
Minrathous
Tevinter Imperium

—

Charade, I'm sending you the address for a Tevinter senator. He's practically an ambassador to Starkhaven for how frequently he travels back and forth, but he's been tasked by both Prince Sebastian and his Archon Radonis to keep an eye on D's movements and report them to me. He's asked to include Kirkwall in these notices for obvious reasons, so I've sent him to you.

Be forewarned, he's a terrible flirt, though it's all talk (prefers men, I understand). Besides, he has a giant of a lover in Tevinter who travels with him half the time, though the man—Iron Bull, he's called—seems to find the flirtations pretty amusing and isn't bothered at all.

Say hi to everyone for me.

Harding

—

Dear Harding,

Thanks for the warning. I've just had my first letter from him and you were perfectly right, as always. He seems delightful in a slightly dangerous way, and I'm intrigued to learn exactly how dangerous. I'm glad you reached out; my cousin arrived home last month and the first thing she did was ask me to write Dorian Pavus if I could, just in case. I was pleased to be able to tell her it was already done.

It's funny, I met the captain—the duke now—the first time he came, and I remember thinking back then if he ever tried to unbend he might split right down the middle like a tree that had got hit by lightning. But it turns out he can be quite friendly when he doesn't feel like there's either doom or duty hanging over his head. Or maybe that's just because he likes my cousin so much. Anyway, I pulled him aside after dinner one night and told him I would be writing this Senator Pavus about D and if he had any questions, to let me know straight away. His face twisted up like he'd eaten a lemon, but he thanked me for my efforts, and more than that he said my violin that night was excellent, which I liked rather more as a compliment anyway.

My aunt has stopped in to see if I'll attend a meeting with her, so I must run off. Write soon!

Charade

—

My dear Lady Charade,

How lovely to hear from you again. I'm pleased to hear the duke is settling in so well in his new home. Three months already! I'd write him myself to congratulate him, but I fear that even across such a distance between us he would find a way to reach through the page and strangle me. His dislike of me is palpable, and all only because I represent a royal office that has caused great distress to him and those he loves over many years. Well! How little I can do about it from here. Pray continue praising me to your royal cousin, so that she may intercede on my behalf. It would be easier to warn the duke of D's movement if he would trust me.

On that note, our little D left Perivantium for the first time in six months last week. He visited Minrathous for four days, stopping by the private homes of several senators known to be friendly to him. So far I have not been able to discover the subjects of these meetings, but rest assured I'll alert you as soon as I do.

By the way, I hear the duke's friend, that Starkhaven sideburned fellow who came with him, is engaged to your city's guard-captain. Pray send them my regards; I adore weddings.

Sen. Dorian Pavus

—

Dorian,

Thanks for your last report. It came delayed, unfortunately, due to some late spring storms washing out two major bridges, and I only just received it this morning. However, some of my local network has seen increased Tevinter movement along the border at Laverock. It's probably nothing, since there have been some problems with bandits near that road lately, but Prince Sebastian has asked me to look into it just in case. I'm curious: is it general knowledge about Captain Fenris there? Duke Fenris, I should say, except the first time I called him that he looked like he couldn't decide if he wanted to run away or throw me out a window, so I've avoided calling him anything to his face since. Or is it just that everyone knows Kirkwall will likely marry off their crown princess to some duke no one's ever heard of, and no one at all knows why D even cares?

I forwarded your packages to the ambassador like you asked. Damia was very grateful for the wine and wants to know if you can send another bottle soon.

Harding

—

Dear Harding,

I'm telling you this as a friend, so take off your scouting hat for a moment. I think my cousin Bethany might be in love with your prince—at least, a little. I heard Carver talking about it with her this morning at breakfast, though they stopped straight away as soon as my uncle came in. Carver was saying she ought to have told someone ages ago, before two kingdoms spent a year sorting out trade arrangements and then four months losing a royal and then six months trying to patch it all back together. Bethany said she could tell from the way he wrote that Sebastian was already in love with Hawke before the engagement, and Hawke herself had been so absolutely firm on going, so how could she? Then he said there were quite a few decorators in Starkhaven who'd have preferred this to come out before they spent a king's ransom on white bunting, and Bethany threw a spoon at him, and then my uncle the king came and sat down and asked what they were talking about and Carver said only a lot of wasted time, and then she threw the fork at him too and the king had to ask them to behave themselves before the queen arrived. I was fooling about with some flowers at the window, so I'm not sure if they know I heard, but—what do you think?

Yours,
Charade

—

My dear Harding,

The duke sits in a curious position in Minrathous conversation. I will not lie to you that I hear his name spoken most often with disdain, when it's spoken at all over "that slave of Danarius's." I'm sorry to cause you pain; I know you like him very much. However, this is not a universal truth. Some simply despise Danarius even now and see Fenris's ascension as welcome spite against the senator. Others see only a Tevinter raised to a foreign throne—these are usually ill-read nationals—and while they little appreciate the nuance of the situation, they approve of him on principle.

And there are a very few, who don't speak aloud of it often, who see justice in a slave set above his master out of recognition of his own merit. This, as you may gather, is not a popular position among any but political dissidents and other slaves, but it has been months and Minrathous still has not stamped the perspective out completely.

Forgive me; the last Senate session of the summer began ten minutes ago and I'm past fashionably late. I also realizing in one last glance over the words that I have completely forgotten to strike his name, but I have no time to rewrite. Pray make sure this letter is kept extra safe; or do me the favor of blotting it out yourself when you receive it. I cannot abide inconsistency in correspondence.

Your friend,
Dorian

—

Charade, it's hard to say, as I'm not nearly so close with Prince Sebastian as you are with your family. That said, even though it's been almost nine months, I can tell he still really misses his friend. He reads all the correspondence from Kirkwall as quickly as he can get it, although he's not exactly forthcoming with me as to whose letters he looks forward to the most. All I can tell you—and this is as a friend, too—is that when he leaves them on his desk, it's usually Princess Bethany's handwriting on top of the stack. But I can't imagine him eager to leap into another betrothal after how the last one went. If nothing else, it's a good thing Captain Rylen seems perfectly happy to stay in Starkhaven with his thousand brothers. We'll have to wait and see how this one goes, I guess.

I hate not knowing exactly what everyone's thinking. How's Princess Hawke? She was so sad most of the time she was here, and then so happy it hurt to look at her. I hope she's found a peace she can keep hold of for once.

Harding

—

My very dear Harding—or should I say—Lace?

My dear, we've been writing nearly a year and only now I discover you're called something other than Harding. I'm crushed. (If you must blame anyone for broken trust, blame me; I have hounded our Charade mercilessly all autumn). Never fear; I can tell I take my life in my hands with every use. From now on let your true name remain secret between us until we die, or until we go to war and must use all weapons at our disposal to wound each other.

I must thank you for your tip regarding Laverock. It has taken some time to unwrinkle each little crease, hence the delay on this letter to you. While the final tapestry was fully revealed, the picture showed a neat little plot against the Archon and his throne, based entirely out of the remote villages near that border. He was delighted to stamp out the rebellion with so little cost to the kingdom's treasury, and he wishes to express his personal appreciation to you and your prince for your assistance. I believe a formal letter will arrive soon. However, D appears to have been completely uninvolved for now.

I can bear it no longer. The initial alone is too ridiculous. We must come up with something better. Doggie? Dandelion? Duckling?

I'll try each and see. For now, our little Duckling remains at Perivantium, though I did hear yesterday some rumor of mercenary activity increasing in that area. I will, of course, alert you immediately with any news.

Dorian

—

Dear Dorian,

Yes, you'd heard correctly. Prince Sebastian will be here in Kirkwall for the next few months, so if you discover any news regarding Duckling (my dear Dorian, I must confess this is the stupidest thing I've ever written), please send word here directly.

You weren't wrong regarding the prince. Everyone was on tenterhooks the first few days—how could it not have been awkward?—but he's such a kind fellow and so clearly pleased with everything he sees it's impossible not to feel at ease around him. The duke was also overjoyed to see his friend, though anyone can tell it's harder for him to let on exactly how glad he is. They've been riding out together nearly every day so Fenris can show him everything he's been doing on the mountain. Prince Sebastian even wore Kirkwall colors to the feast we held the first night in his honor, which I can assure you won nearly every heart in attendance. I will say that Starkhaven dancing music features some rather lovely violin leads, and I wouldn't mind if they came into greater rotation here after this.

My cousin Bethany looks as happy as I've ever seen her. I think the only way she could be happier would be if An Taigh Gheal were to be moved right next to the mountain, so that she could have everyone in arm's reach whenever she liked. It would certainly make my visiting Harding easier, at least. However, she insists no one's made any promises to anyone else, and I ought to keep my speculation out of my letters. Poor dear.

I just finished quite a lengthy letter to Harding about Hawke, so I won't repeat it all here, but in answer: yes, she's quite happy, too. Fenris is working harder than anyone I've ever seen to learn everything he ought to know, but he catches on very quickly, and the king has started sending him out in his stead on some visits to outlying farmholds and minor barons. Even if he won't admit it he likes feeling useful, and she likes to see him glad. They still have several weeks before the wedding, though at this point it's practically a formality. You would never know to look at him that he hasn't always been here with us.

Affectionately,
Charade

—

Dorian,

You should know I've never burned a letter in my life—bad for my profession, I prefer to cut them up in case I need them again later—but your last one came close to it. Try that again and your moustache will vanish in your sleep. I have my ways, even on the other side of the continent. You know I do.

Anyway, in case you hadn't heard, I'm escorting some of the courtiers here to Kirkwall for the wedding. There's a handful who can't or won't go by ship, so my company will ride out with them and make sure the roads are safe. Experience and memory and whatnot. I expect I'll be in Kirkwall at least through the new year, so write there.

Honestly, I'm beginning to wonder if Duckling's given up after all. The duke would sleep better if the man were dead, but maybe that's too much to hope for. It's been over a year since he left us and went to Kirkwall, and nothing at all has happened—isn't that a good sign? I hope it's not too tedious for you, listening to report after report that nothing's going on. I can send some spies your way if you like.

HARDING

—

Lady Charade and the lovely Harding,

First things first, for I've only a moment to spare: the mercenary movement near Perivantium is increasing. Word has come to me of some very expensive prizes being offered for good swordsmen, though I haven't yet been able to scrounge up any details. Some days I think the Archon has forgotten my charge entirely, but it's good to know I still have such a ready audience in you. I'll certainly keep you informed.

Now, more importantly, I've heard that as of last month your crown princess is finally married. However, the bulletins here are scarce on details and frustratingly empty of any meaningful descriptions. Please be so kind as to describe the event to me so that I, languishing here alone in the well-known icy clutch of Minrathous winter, may see it in my mind's eye. Truly, you have no idea how I suffer.

Yours,
Dorian

—

Dorian,

Don't give me one word about your icy winter. I haven't seen green in a month under this mountain snow. What, did you have to put on a wool shirt this morning instead of linen?

You're lucky my mother was a seamstress and I happen to know a lot about this kind of thing. I wasn't invited to the wedding itself—that was for family only, so Charade will have to tell you that part. But I did get to go to the feast after, and I have to say Starkhaven could learn a thing or two on how to throw a wedding celebration. I've never seen so much pheasant and goose and guinea and boar all in one place, and they were all prepared differently. I understand it was part of Starkhaven's wedding gift, though it was certainly Kirkwall's cooking, and it's Kirkwall's cooking causing my pants not to button this morning. Not to mention all my nice things are stained with sweat. That hall holds heat too well—by the end of the night I was roasting, even though there was snow on every mountain peak around us.

Anyway, to answer your question, the princess wore gold silk trimmed in black satin. It was originally made for her wedding to Prince Sebastian. You can imagine how horribly gauche it ought to have been, wearing the same dress for another man, but I hear she couldn't stand to waste the work, so Kirkwall tailors took it up and did enough alterations to make it all feel new again. The neck was square and lined with black lace, and her shoulders were slashed with black satin. The outer sleeves hung all the way down to her knees, and the tight sleeves under them went to her wrists and were black and made of something very fine—Orlesian crêpe, I think, though I didn't have the chance to ask.

The bodice and skirt were done all over in seed pearls in the shape of lilies and the Kirkwall wings (I thought this was a little on the nose, but I guess nobody asked me), and the skirt was lined with black satin too. The back of the dress had the most beautiful train of lace coming off her shoulders to trail at least a yard behind her. I can't imagine how she didn't tear it every time she turned around. Her hair was up and woven around her crown—gold with rubies, and a pretty little diadem if I do say so myself—and her belt had rubies in the clasp.

The duke was almost all in black. He wore a beautiful velvet waistcoat over a black cambric shirt that was very well tailored. There was just a little gold thread at his collar and his cuffs, very easy to miss if you weren't looking for it (though I clearly was, you're welcome). His trousers were fitted black wool with black laces, and his boots were straight and went all the way up to his knees. He probably needed three people and a prybar to get him out of them again. He didn't wear any jewelry aside from a gold chain around his neck, though he kept the pendant tucked into his high collar, and he had one heavy gold ring on his right hand that I think was a gift from Prince Sebastian. He was already wearing the red band around his right wrist when they came out—the handfasting was part of the private ceremony, so I didn't see that part—and I saw him smile exactly once while he was looking at it before the herald called them in.

Anyway, it all looked extremely good on him, and though he won't be officially prince-consort until the coronation next month, he looked very comfortable next to the princess right up until everyone started looking at them and cheering. Then he looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but she held onto him long enough to thank everyone and then she let him skulk off to the high table with Kirkwall's royalty and Prince Sebastian. They did their best to keep him occupied, but it was still the most I've ever seen anyone shrivel at a party in their honor.

Charade played beautifully all night, which was a good thing, as half the crowd danced until morning and the rest stayed at the tables eating until they had to be rolled out by the servants. The happy couple snuck out somewhere around dawn—I saw Guard-Captain Aveline (just married three weeks ago herself) shepherding them both out a back door—and then the next thing anyone knew the sun was coming through the windows and there were little brown birds hopping around in the snow looking for seeds.

Honestly, Dorian, I think you'd have loved it. We'll have to have you here for the next one. I hope this is enough, because my hand is aching and a maid just came in to ask if I was going to miss lunch, too. You'd better thank me for this.

Harding

—

Dear Dorian,

To be honest, I didn't notice. Black, I think? Or maybe yellow. I think her dress had a train. Really, you'll have to ask Harding.

The family part was very small, just us and Prince Sebastian and a handful of priests at the little altar on the top of the mountain. Gamlen even got dressed up and combed his hair, and I could tell he was feeling maudlin because he gave me a gruff sort of smile when he saw me. The ceremony was just the usual thing: they said some private vows, she tied up the red on his wrist, the priests gave their blessings and everyone prayed for health and love and favor. I'm sorry; I'm not sure what else to tell you. Harding's been writing in her room for a hundred years and I can't imagine what's left to say.

I suppose there was—do you know how some people look happy when they get married? Smiling ear to ear, crying from joy—all that sort of thing. I mean, they were happy, of course, it's not that they weren't, it's more that—I think it was that more than anything else they looked ready. Like they knew exactly what they meant to do and were here to do it properly. Does that make sense at all?

Anyway, the morning's getting on and I have work to do, so I'll leave this here.

Your friend,
Charade

—

To Harding, spymaster of Starkhaven; to Captain Rylen of the White Guard; to His Royal Highness, Prince Sebastian:

I write this letter in great haste and in fulfillment of oaths made on Tevinter's behalf. Danarius has begun to move. Two days ago my men in Perivantium reported some sudden undertaking inside Danarius's borrowed mansion. This morning several carriages departed with a significant retinue of armed soldiers. We have not been able to verify if Danarius himself is with them. They travel south in great haste even as I write these words; by the time you receive this he may be already beyond Tevinter's borders.

The Senate refuses to interfere. For now he has committed no crime aside from stupidity, and several sitting senators insist his errand—if, of course, one even exists—is surely diplomatic. One can surmise that these senators' respective discoveries of newfound fortune last summer played a significant role in these opinions. The Archon is willing to publicly stand against him, but he will not do so until Danarius has embarrassed himself beyond recovery.

I trust you to proceed with great care. I am aware of your feelings towards this man and understand any desire you may have to waylay him on his travels. I beg for your caution. Even now Danarius is powerful. His wealth is extraordinary and his friendships—even what few remain to him—carry great weight. You must not incite war, or all three of our countries will burn.

Trust Kirkwall. Trust the princess and her husband. A copy of this letter has been sent to them; Danarius will not find them surprised. I know the princess Bethany's retinue will arrive at your palace any day; please send word the moment they are safe.

These letters go with our fastest horses. Be careful. Watch the roads. Danarius is coming.

Senator Dorian Pavus
Minrathous
Tevinter