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In the warehouse the next day, they found Keran, a young Templar they had once saved from blood mages, who explained that in their desperation to keep Hawke away from them, the group of mages and Templars had kidnapped her sister. No amount of outrage or argument managed to make him understand that they had done the one thing guaranteed to make an enemy of Hawke, and to make her come after them.
Varric had rarely seen Hawke so focused, or so angry. Piece by piece, Kirkwall had stripped away her smiles, her humor, her messiness, her softness, and left a woman with an edge so sharp she hardly needed a blade. Much as he loved Kirkwall, he wasn't certain he could ever forgive it for that.
She had gathered everyone to take on the mages and Templars and get her sister back, and, while Varric was storyteller enough to see how odd they looked, it was also true that all of their skills had been honed in many, many fights over the years. They carried themselves and their weapons with purpose. If he'd been a mage or a Templar, he'd have backed down and handed Sunshine over.
Sadly, he was afraid the actual mages and Templars were not going to be so sensible.
The first person they ran into on the Wounded Coast was Samson, the ex-Templar lyrium fiend. Hawke nearly took his head off before she realized who it was and stayed her blade. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question. You've been sticking your nose into every corner of Kirkwall ever since you stumbled off the boat."
"Big words from a man who's eagerly grasped my coin to buy his lyrium."
"Yeah, I got the taste for the dust, I don't deny it. But that was done to me by others."
"Everything that's happened to me in Kirkwall was done to me by others. From the moment I stumbled off the boat." Hawke mimicked Samson's voice. "What's going on down there? Blood magic?"
"Always comes down to that, don't it? Mages claim innocence, demand equality, but back them into a corner—they always got options we don't."
Out of the corner of his eye, Varric saw Blondie start forward to protest, and Daisy grab his arm and pull him back. He was glad of it. Now wasn't the time. And in the mood Hawke was in, Blondie wasn't any too safe from her, either.
"Is Thrask down there?" Aveline asked.
"He is." Samson grinned at the frown that appeared on Hawke's face. "You don't look happy. Funny—last I heard, you two were close. So were we, once. 'Course, that was before Meredith kicked me out of the Templars. Thrask knew she was a bitch then, but he still thought he could change things from the inside. I hoped he would."
"Secret night-time meetings and grandiose conspiracies aren't going to win this," Hawke snapped.
"Truth," Samson agreed. "This whole thing's been done wrong. Mages are raising the bloody dead and Thrask just looks the other way. I'm too much Templar still to swallow that."
Varric was on the verge of asking Samson what he would have done, but this wasn't the time for that, either. Maybe later, when this was over and Sunshine was safe and Hawke was something like herself again, he could buy the ex-Templar a pint and they could solve all the world's problems together.
Samson sighed. "I'd hoped if they took out Meredith, I could take up the shield again. But maybe she's right, after all—give them a hint of freedom, mages go bad."
This time it was Daisy who started forward, and the Rivaini who stopped her.
Hawke was torn, Varric could see, between her loyalty to her sister and the memory of her dead father and what Kirkwall had convinced her of. "Maybe, without Meredith, there could be peace in Kirkwall again," she suggested, but it was a weak offering at best. Her heart wasn't in it.
"Is it that simple?" Aveline asked, and Hawke shrugged.
"I'd cheer to see that bitch shipped off to Val Royeaux," Samson said. His tone indicated he didn't care if she survived the voyage. But then he shook his head. "I just don't have the stomach to turn against all that's right and natural to do it."
"So what are you going to do?" Aveline asked. "Will you stay and fight with us?"
Samson looked down at his hands. Varric could see the way they were trembling. "I wouldn't be much good to you. Not in this state. And ... not sure how I feel about raising a blade against my own, for all my big words."
"Well, if you aren't going to help, then get the Void out of my way," Hawke said sharply. "You're wasting my time. Or is that what you're here to do? What are they doing to my sister while you stand here jabbering away about all your woes?" She stepped toward him, one hand on the hilt of her sword.
"Not me. They don't know I exist. Acknowledge an ex-Templar? A dust fiend? Hardly. You go get your sister, and I wish you joy in the hunt." Samson stepped aside to let them pass, watching them all go by. Blondie stopped in front of him for a moment, as if to say something in defense of mages, but Fenris pushed him roughly on down the path.
Varric and Bianca brought up the rear. He saluted Samson as they went by, and got a nod of the head in return. In Varric's judgement, if the ex-Templar made an effort to fight his lyrium addiction, he'd have some good years left—but he had to believe that himself to make it happen. Varric hoped he would, eventually.
And then he followed Hawke down the long hills of the Wounded Coast, and forgot all about the man they'd left behind in the urgency of the mission ahead.