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They woke, somewhat refreshed. How long they had slept, Hawke didn't know. How long they had been inside the tower, she didn't know. With no view of the outside, no way to track the time, anything was possible. They had not yet emptied their waterskins, that was something. All of them were being very careful of them, even more than they were with the provisions they carried. You could stand going hungry a lot longer than you could stand unrelieved thirst, and Hawke had seen no sign of any water in this tower. There weren't even the forgotten bottles of wine and whiskey that seemed to litter Kirkwall.
"Well, well," Varric said as she joined the three of them where they sat in a circle, chewing on stale biscuits. "The gang's all here. Following a half-dead Warden-thing through a tower, down and up again, until we run into some demon or whatever at the top, who has been calling people and turning them crazy so they'll bring him Hawke's blood. Does this feel like a trap to anyone else?"
"It feels like a headache," Hawke snapped.
Varric subsided. He understood her need to stop and think as much as she did his need to talk through his feelings and frustration.
"We do need to be careful," Anders said morosely. "We still don't know what we're dealing with."
"Sister, I found this. It was underneath the mattress of the cot I slept on." Bethany handed Hawke a piece of parchment.
Quickly, Hawke skimmed it. "So. Corypheus can talk, and it had collected a whole crew of darkspawn. Naturally, the Grey Wardens decided that they should capture it rather than kill it. So they could use it to turn darkspawn."
Varric gave an exaggerated look around. "How's that working out for them?"
Anders shook his head. "You don't understand. You have no idea how tired, how desperate, a Grey Warden gets toward the end of their life, how much they want a … a shortcut, a way to end it all, forever, so no one else ever has to go through what they have."
In all the time they'd known each other, Hawke had never heard Anders speak with such energy, or such compassion, about the Grey Wardens. "You all right?"
He looked startled. "Fine." But the word lacked conviction.
"Come on, then," Hawke said abruptly. "Let's get moving. Corypheus may have time to waste, but I don't."
Bethany walked with her as they started on through the rooms toward the next bridge. "I was thinking of Father."
"That makes sense."
"'My magic would serve that which is best in me, not that which is—'"
"'Most base,'" Hawke finished. "Words to live by—even when your magic is a sword."
"I wonder if it was here that he made that decision. I still think of that, even in the Gallows." Bethany sighed. "I miss him so."
"Well, at least he left you that." All he had left Hawke was the promise he had forced on her—a promise she hadn't been able to live up to.
Bethany was silent for a moment, then she said softly, "I can't help thinking of how much you and Carver gave up for me. I … I almost wish I had been taken to the Circle sooner, so you would have been safe."
Mina glanced at her sister, a sharp answer on the tip of her tongue. But this was Bethany—the sweetest, kindest, gentlest person Hawke had ever known. "Do I get a say in how much I want to be protected? Having you around was always worth the risk. It would be still, if you chose not to go back."
"I can't make that choice."
"You can. I will protect you."
Bethany smiled. "That's kind of you, Sister, but … I'm needed in the Gallows. To protect the other mages. When we return to Kirkwall, I'm going back." She laughed a little. "I am a Hawke, after all. It's what we do."
Impulsively, Hawke reached out and wrapped an arm around her sister's shoulders. "I suppose it is," she agreed.
"I do miss this, though," Bethany said after a while. "Well, maybe not the craziness of it all, or constantly being attacked, but feeling like a family … You may not be a mage, but you're an awful lot like Father, you know?" She pulled Hawke to a stop and looked intently into her face. "Don't lose that. Not over this. Or anything to come. We've lost … too much."
"I'll do my best," Hawke promised. To be honest, she wasn't really sure what Bethany was getting at, but her sister was trying to say something important. She deserved to be listened to, at least, if not understood.
Whatever she was looking for in Hawke's face, Bethany apparently found enough to satisfy her. She let go of Hawke's hand and kept walking. Hawke stayed still for a moment until Varric caught up with her. "Sorry about earlier."
"What? Your sunshiny first-thing-in-the-morning personality?" He waved a hand. "All part of your charm. Say, does it strike you that Larius is a few bricks short of a wall?"
"I'm not sure he can muster enough bricks for a stack."
"And we're following him why?"
"Can you see anything better to do? This place is woefully short on taverns."
"More's the pity."
Hawke glanced behind them. Anders was bringing up the rear, one hand to his head, muttering to himself. "Speaking of someone who could use a few extra bricks …"
"Blondie? Yeah, something's weird about him."
"Ever since we've known him."
"Yes, that's true, but it's getting worse since we got to the tower."
"And since we saw Larius. You think Anders is seeing his future?"
Varric nodded. "Maybe. But it seems like more than that. You think he's hearing this … Calling thing?"
"That's not good, if he is. He bears watching." Hawke sighed. "We should have brought Fenris."
"The Rivaini wasn't about to let him out of her sight—or he her, for that matter."
"She wasn't going to sail away without him."
"I doubt he'd have believed that."
Hawke smiled. After everything Fenris—and Isabela, for that matter—had been through, they deserved some happiness. "I guess we'll just have to put up with a crazy mage to go along with our crazy dwarves."
"Never a dull moment with you, Hawke."
"Part of my charm … or so I'm told."