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The woman stayed leaning over Varric for a long minute, then stood straight again and folded her arms over her chest. "Tell me about the tower in the desert."
That did surprise him. They knew about that? "What's there to tell? We went out there, we found a ghoul who used to be a Warden Commander, we killed an ancient darkspawn who claimed to be one of the magisters who stormed the Golden City."
She frowned at that, but went for the first bait instead. "A ghoul who used to be a Warden Commander?"
Varric nodded. "His name was Larius."
The woman frowned again, more of a scowl, really. "We've spoken to the Grey Wardens, but they did not mention this Larius."
Of course they hadn't. No doubt they hadn't wanted to ackowledge what happened to Wardens when they were past their time.
"And now you claim that the Champion was not only there, but that she defeated a magister—one of the magisters of old."
Varric had also been there, but that was hardly the point. "So he said. He was certainly old, definitely a darkspawn, and there was no doubt he was Tevinter. As for the rest …" He shrugged. "Who knows for sure."
"Finish the story."
This part was harder. He talked about Blondie's increasing instability, about Hawke's unhappiness in Kirkwall, about the tight grip Meredith tried to exercise on the city. Then he got to the final day—Blondie, and Meredith lumping him in with the mages of the Gallows, even though she had no reason to; Orsino, taking the coward's way out. And Meredith, consumed, literally, by the red lyrium.
"So that's it," he said at last. "That's the whole story. Did it help?"
"Meredith provoked the Circle? She was to blame?"
"Or that damned idol. Or Anders. Take your pick."
"Even so, had the Champion not been there—"
"It might never have gone that far," Varric admitted. Meredith had never forgiven Hawke for saving the day against the Qunari. He leaned forward, curious at last. "So how is hearing all this going to help? You've already lost the Circles." They had risen up all over Thedas within days of the destruction at Kirkwall. Varric couldn't say he blamed them. He added a tidbit he had heard only just this morning. "In fact, haven't you lost the Templars as well? I hear you all decided to leave the Chantry to hunt mages."
The two bucketed heads by the door swiveled once, quickly, to look at each other, and snapped back to attention.
Almost absently, the woman said, "I am not a Templar. I am a Seeker of Truth. And not all of us desire war, Varric."
It was the first time she had spoken his name or acknowledged that he might have a personality beyond that of Hawke's storyteller. He wasn't sure if he found that a comforting or a frightening sign. So she was a Seeker. A super-Templar, endowed with powers that smacked of magic, if the rumors were true.
Her voice was the softest he'd heard it yet as she continued, "Please. If you know where the Champion is, you must tell me. She is a hero. A woman that the mages would listen to, someone who was there at the beginning. The Champion could stop this madness before it's too late. She may be the only one who can."
"Is that what this is all about?" Varric whispered, half to himself. If he'd been anyone else, he would have believed in her sincerity. As it was, he did believe that she was desperate to find Hawke. The hint that she wanted Hawke to talk the mages into submission was … interesting, but still didn't bode well for Hawke if she was found. "In that case, I wish I could help you." He meant it, more or less. He wished someone wanted to stop all this before the mages and Templars killed each other, and anyone who got in their way. And he wished he could believe that Hawke could do that. But she couldn't, and it wouldn't be fair to ask her, and he wouldn't know how to anyway.
"Just … tell me one thing, then. Is the Champion dead?"
"Oh, I doubt that."
"Then you are free to go, Varric. May the Maker watch over you during the dark times ahead of us."
Later, he would curse himself for being a gullible fool. For now, he was so relieved to be let go that he didn't stop to consider whether they might decide he had further uses.
When two days later he woke up trussed and gagged on a ship, rolling and tossing on the high seas, he considered it then.
"Ah, you're awake." The voice was familiar. Varric's eyes widened in surprise to see Cullen's curly blond head bending over him.
He tried to say the Templar's name, but all that came out was a muffled exclamation. He grunted again, frowning at Cullen as best he could to indicate an urgent need to have the gag off and ask about a thousand questions.
"Do not remove that gag." The order came from the severe Nevarran-accented voice of the Seeker. "He will only weave a web of unbelievable lies."
"I never lied to you!" Varric blustered, although the effect was ruined when it came out "Mph nmph mmph mu!"
Cullen took pity on him and removed the gag.
Immediately, Varric roared, "Take me back to Kirkwall!"
"No. You are coming with us, and you are going to help me find the Champion."
"If this is how you're going to treat her? Not a chance in the Void."
She glared at him, he glared at her, and Cullen sighed and rubbed his neck and muttered about what a long trip this was going to be, and the ship sailed on into a very uncertain future.
Keep an eye out for the next story in the adventures of Tethras and Hawke, coming before the end of the year!