The four members involved in the so-called War Council looked around at each other, thinking over the report Jacquelyn had just given.
"I believe Mother Giselle is right," Josephine spoke up. "Going to Orlais and demonstrating that we are not to be feared would be wise." Jacquelyn frowned slightly.
"Yes, but they still want me dead," she said. "Are we sure it is wise to go and speak to the chantry there now? All things considered, it could lead to more trouble."
"Right now, more trouble is the last thing we need," Cullen muttered, everyone around the table looking at him. The small frown on Jacquelyn's face was what got him most. Small, curious, but also worried.
"I would have thought that trouble would always be something we aim to avoid," she said. "Why does now warrant your saying so?"
Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I was just informed by Varric that Siara and Lord Kildarn have had more… serious dealings in the past than we realised."
"Oh?" Leliana asked, a polite expression on her face. "Is there something about our guest that I missed?"
"Apparently she and her brother were hired to kill Kildarn's son."
Josephine looked frazzled by this news, Leliana not seeming overly surprised, Jaquelyn frowning, and Cassandra scowling.
"How could this have been missed?" the Seeker demanded. "Does she realise the repercussions this could have on the Inquisition?"
"I don't know," Cullen sounded unimpressed, and looked it, his hands once more resting on the pummel of his sword. "Despite Varric's assurances that she does, I'm not so certain. I'd hope she did, but who knows what goes on inside her head?"
"I will go the long way to Orlais," Jacquelyn sighed. "We need to get ahead of this."
"So you will go to Orlais, after all?" Josephine asked. Jacquelyn nodded.
"It is better that I do this, despite the risks," she said. "Getting ahead of those who fear me is another thing we must do if the Inquisition is to thrive."
"I agree," Leliana said, "but I believe it would be wiser to send someone else to deal with the Blade." Jacquelyn leaned her head to the side quizzically.
"Why?" she asked, genuinely curious. "It would not make the journey that much longer, I am sure."
"That's not why she's suggesting sending someone else," Cullen said, eyeing Cassandra closely. The woman was looking downright pissed, making him believe that she'd also had some experience with Siara.
"That bloody mercenary…" she muttered, her hands forming fists.
"Cassandra, calm yourself," Jacquelyn almost looked amused. "Everything will be fine."
"She is always where she shouldn't be, messing in affairs she has no right to."
"You sound like you know her, Cassandra," Cullen said, watching for the Right Hand's reaction. A rather dower look passed across her face.
"I've heard about her and her brother often enough that I may as well know her. Varric told me plenty about them when I was asking him about the Champion."
Cullen frowned.
"The Champion?" he asked. "Of Kirkwall?" Cassandra nodded.
"Her brother was a close friend of his," Cassandra explained, "and Siara would occasionally show up and cause more problems."
"Is it just me, or does she seem to get around a lot?" Josephine asked, seeming rather impressed. Cullen frowned slightly. He didn't even recognise her, though there had been something familiar about her. Something in the eyes. His frown deepened ever so slightly. That elf; Jacen. He'd had those eyes. Why was he only now realising he'd met Siara's brother, even if not for long? For a moment he could see Siara in his mind. She was so… tired. He could see it in her eyes. She simply didn't care anymore. Something told him she'd lost more than just her brother. There was something in those strange eyes of her's that said she didn't care anymore. Yet when he had mentioned the refugees… Siara wasn't seeming to be very easy to understand.
"So Cassandra, Varric, Solas, and I will go to Orlais," Jacquelyn said. "Who will go to ensure that Siara is staying out of trouble?"
"I'll send some of my people out to keep an eye on her," Leliana assured Jacquelyn. "You just try to get things straightened out with the Chantry."
Jacquelyn nodded her thanks, then looked to Josephine.
"Do you think you could organise some transport for us?" she asked, Josephine inclining her head slightly.
"Of course," she answered. "I cannot say how comfortable the transportation will be, but I will make sure you can get there."
"Thank you," Jacquelyn smiled around at everyone. "Now, are there any more matters that need to be discussed?"
"Many," Cullen scoffed, the meeting now steered away from Orlais and Siara.
Darkness had long since fallen, yet Siara still wasn't asleep. She was sitting at her desk, scribbling away. Even mercenaries had to do some paperwork. And it was something to do, especially since sleep was eluding her. By the end of it all she was drawing goofy little cartoons in the corners of the pages, usually of some little guy delivering part of the report with some kind of stupid expression on his face. If she'd been asleep she probably wouldn't have noticed the small, tell-tale sounds of someone moving outside her tent.
She froze for a moment, listening, then quietly put the quill down, blowing out her candle and waiting a moment for her eyes to grow adjusted to the dark. She had pretty good night vision. Perhaps it was because of how she used to live when with the Dalish. It didn't particularly matter. She walked quietly over to where her twin blades sat, picking them up, strapping the harness on and putting one of the blades away, holding the other loosely but firmly in her right hand.
She followed the hushed voices, frowning slightly, sticking to the shade as much as she could. Her hair was tied in a low ponytail, shorter strands coming loose and blowing into her eyes slightly, but she paid it no attention. She slipped through the tents, keeping an eye on the torch that had now been lit. Everyone should be asleep by now. Why were these people awake and… sneaking… around…
Okay, so she was doing the exact same thing. But she was following them, she wasn't being as strange. In her mind anyway. Eventually the people sneaking around stopped walking, looking around as though checking the coast was clear before leaning down and pulling a peg out from the tent they stopped in front of. The Inquisition supply tent. They slipped under the canvas, Siara stepping out and following them. They were busy packing sacks with food, one even grabbing some Lyrium (ex-templar, perhaps?). Siara just stood there, watching them, a slight frown on her face.
"Looking for something in particular?" she asked after a while, eyebrow raised, making the thieves jump. "Or are you just shopping around?"
The woman looked about as white as a sheet, but the man just glared at Siara.
"This is none of your concern," he snarled.
Siara looked at him, her eyes the most obvious thing about her in the darkness, what little light was in the area reflecting off how white they were.
"This is my concern," she said. "You're stealing what belongs to the Inquisition."
"Oh, and you really care what happens to the Inquisition, don't you? You being a part of it and all."
The elf sighed, shaking her head.
"I'm not a part of the Inquisition," she told him. "Now put back what you've taken, before this gets ugly."
"No," the man drew a sword, getting into a more offensive stance. Siara quickly reached around and grabbed her second blade, rolling out of the way, spinning her blades as she stood up. She had to be careful not to show that her arm was in pain. Currently the bandages were hidden beneath her sleeve, but if this guy noticed that her arm was injured then she would be in trouble.
She maneuvered herself into a position where she could see both the woman and the man, her stance purely defensive.
"You might want to rethink this," she told them both, the woman still not making any kind of move. The man just snarled again.
"I really don't think so," he once again advanced on Siara, sword raised to strike. Siara deflected it, spinning out of the way, once again moving so she could watch both the man and the woman. It wasn't easy, since they were getting further and further apart. And the man didn't let up, immediately coming after her again with a flurry of blows, all of which Siara deflected neatly. But she was being forced back, the woman now out of her sight. Next thing she knew, a sharp object was being pressed between her shoulder blades. She froze, the man also no longer moving, a nasty smirk on his face.
"Thought that the infamous Blade would be better at fighting than this," he sneered. "Seems like the stories are exaggerating."
Siara didn't bother replying, her head instead snapping around as someone started screaming, smoke now thick in the air. She slowly looked back at the man.
"You were distracting me…" she muttered. "Shit."
She stomped on the woman's foot, the woman lowering her dagger before Siara twisted around, bringing her foot to collide with the side of the woman's head. She then ducked around and out of the way before lunging forward and ramming the man with her shoulder, straightening and pointing one of her dual blades at the man's neck as he lay sprawled on the ground.
"Stay," she ordered before running out of the tent, winding her way through the now panicking crowds. By now there were others coming out of their tents to see what the panic was all about. Siara kept darting past them, sometimes having to suck her belly in to get through an especially small gap, finding where the fire was a few minutes later.
It was a small building that was on fire, the building that was serving as a temporary barracks for the Inquisition soldiers in the area. She turned and looked at the person closest to her, an Inquisition member who had been there a lot longer than she had.
"Who are we missing?" she demanded.
"Captain Frost hasn't been seen since before the fire started," he responded. "Everyone else is accounted for."
Siara didn't hesitate, shoving her blades at the man.
"Look after them. Lose them, steal them, you're dead," she said, ripping off a decent chunk of her shirt and marching over to a nearby water barrel, soaking the cloth before tying it around her face. It'd help a little with smoke inhalation. Then she marched into the flames, her eyes stinging as she forced her way through, the flames licking at her skin. She paid it little attention, just kept moving. A door fell in before her, causing her to take half a step back, her foot going through the wooden floor.
"Shit," she growled, pulling her foot out. If it weren't for her boots, she would have at least twisted her ankle. As it was it felt fine. For now.
She kept going, doing her best to avoid the flames.
"Frost!" she yelled, then went into a coughing fit before trying again. "Frost!"
"In here!" the voice was weak, barely audible above the roaring flames. But Siara heard it, rushing towards where it was coming from.
"Frost, I need you to keep making noise," Siara ordered, her voice growing hoarse. Frost did as she was ordered.
"Siara, you bitch, you better get me the hell out of this place, or so help me, I will come back and haunt your ass."
That actually brought a half smile to Siara's face. It was enough sound, Siara stopping in front of a rather heavy looking door.
"Of course you had to have the room with the most horrible door," she yelled.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time!" Frost snapped. Siara rolled her eyes, then turned and shoulder bashed the door. It took a couple of goes before the door fell in, sending embers flying into the air. Frost was in one of the far corners, clearly having realised what Siara was going to do.
The elf took off her make-shift mask and forced it into Frost's hands. The captain bunched it up and held it to cover her nose and mouth, coughing into it, then leaning heavily on Siara as the elf put her arm under her armpits, supporting her. Siara was now coughing like mad, her throat stinging, but she kept going, the smoke making her eyes water, but all the liquid had dried by the time it got to her cheeks. It was so hot in the building. At least exiting was fast enough, the two women stumbling out as the roof caved in.
Bystanders hurried forward and took over from Siara, supporting Frost, another couple moving forward to offer assistance to Siara. The elf shook her head and headed over to where the Inquisition member with her weapons was, looking at him expectantly. The man silently handed them over, Siara nodding her thanks. He motioned to where she had ripped her shirt.
"You might want to get that looked at," he said, Siara looking down to where he pointed, hanging her head as a sigh escaped her.
"This really isn't going well for me, is it?" she asked, her voice still hoarse, before she made her way to where the healers were on standby. Some refugees and a few of Kildarn's guards were making a bucket chain, trying to get the flames under control. One of the healers looked up as Siara approached, quickly making room for her to sit down.
"What's the problem?" she asked, already in professional mode. Siara raised the edge of her ripped shirt, showing the burn more clearly. The woman looked at it quickly, then at Siara, then went to get a cold cloth, pressing it gently to Siara's side, a quick intake of breath all the sign on pain that the elf gave.
"It doesn't look too bad," the healer said, "and it shouldn't even scar if you're careful. I'll get a balm for you. Apply a few times a day and you should be all right."
"Thanks," Siara grunted, taking over holding the cold cloth to her side, sighing, rubbing her forehead with the back of her free hand, feeling soot smear across. It really wasn't her day, or even week. She looked over, spotting Frost nearby. The older woman smiled kindly at Siara, nodding her thanks, Siara nodding in return before the Captain turned back to the man looking after her. That was when some of Kildarn's men started marching towards the med tent, another man pointing to Siara.
"That's her," he said, Siara frowning, "that's the one I saw setting the fire."
Siara's frown grew as she got to her feet, looking around at all the approaching people.
"What are you on about?" she demanded. "I was nowhere near the building when the fire was set."
"Really? Never heard that one before," one of the guards said. "Take her in. And take her weapons."
Siara stood there watching them for a moment before relinquishing her blades, though she looked less than impressed about it, and went with them quietly, the healer that was attending to her looking rather confused as she left.
The cell wasn't exactly the most comfortable of places, especially since Siara had two wounds that needed some form of dressing; one that needed redressing, one that needed treating and then dressing. At least the straw covering the floor was clean. She wished she could say the same about surrounding cells, the smell nearing unbearable. Especially for someone with a sense of smell as keen as hers.
She sighed, looking around the place, looking at the cracks in the stone wall, the chains coming out of it. It gave the impression of having mages kept here, though why they didn't just blast the door off its hinges was a rather good question. One that she could never have answered. She could hear the guards out in the hall, the occasional click as the pike hit against the stone wall, betraying how tired the man on duty was. A sigh escaped Siara and she moved to the far corner, away from the bucket, and leaned against the wall, waiting for someone to come and speak to her. It was bound to happen at some point. She hadn't set the fire, had even been led in the complete opposite direction.
Probably to get her out of the way for long enough to set up. Kildarn was bound to come and talk to her at some point. He was probably behind the fire, considering that it was Siara framed and not someone else, and that it was the Inquisition's temporary barracks that were hit and not some other building. The Inquisition had turned on him, and they had sent Siara. She possibly wasn't the smartest person to send, especially with the history she had with the guy.
She sighed, leaning her head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling, arms folded across her chest. This was going to be rather boring. Another sigh escaped her, and she purposefully cracked her neck, the satisfying sound echoing around the walls. It actually felt rather nice, if a little sore. But that hardly kept her entertained. So, she started humming. As badly and as out of tune as she could.
"Would you shut up?" the guard outside demanded, hammering on her door. Siara half smiled.
"If you get me a book or something. Maybe a pen and piece of parchment?"
"You're in a cell. You're our prisoner. Hardly a position to be bargaining from."
Siara just shrugged.
"Suit yourself."
She started humming again, a smirk on her face. She'd been through this before. Being caught was annoying, but sometimes it just couldn't be helped. But she didn't see why she couldn't be annoying back. There was another banging at the door, shouting for her to shut up, and then… silence. Siara stopped humming, frowning slightly, before the bolt on the door was drawn back.
Siara stood straight, unfolding her arms, now in a position better for protecting herself from. The door swung open and Kildarn entered, still dressed overly fancy, his hair greased back, shining slightly in the torch light. His cold eyes glinted as he looked at Siara, whose hair was now falling around her face. She really should have retied it after she escaped the flames. Well, currently she felt more like she was in the flames than she had when she had run into that bloody burning building. Kildarn half smiled, nastily, his nose wrinkling in mild disgust as the scorn-filled smile slipped from his face. Siara raised her chin slightly, then half smirked.
"Welcome, Kildarn. Please, come in, come in. Make yourself at home!" she extended her arms in greeting, motioning around at the cell. "I would offer you some tea and cakes or something but, as you can see," she slapped her arms against her legs, looking around before looking back at Kildarn, a sarcastic look on her face, "I'm currently plum out of… well, everything. Except straw. Want some straw? Hear it's full of fibre."
"Are you capable of taking anything seriously?" Kildarn asked, rather scornfully. Siara's face fell into a neutral expression.
"Yes, actually," she said, "but I never take you seriously. Maybe if you grew a pair I would."
Kildarn's face went red and he crossed over to her, looming above her before shoving her back against the wall, forearm pinning her throat. Her breathing wasn't restricted, but it was enough of a warning. Siara's hands went to grasp at his arm as she glared at him, pulling a face.
"You know you've…" she pretended to be disturbed, "you've got something in your teeth and it's really upsetting me."
Kildarn pressed harder against her throat and she scowled, knowing that if this got too bad, she could always just lift her knee.
"What do you want? To gloat? Really was your downfall, you know. Pride. Smugness."
"I could say the same of you, Blade," Kildarn spat, Siara flinching slightly as spittle landed on her face. "You killed my son, and yet you come back here? You make fun of me in front of everyone, and you expect to get away scot free?" he demanded.
"And then you go and set things on fire in retaliation. I'm immature, am I?" she glared up at him. "Don't insult me, Kildarn. I never thought I could get away scot free, as you put it. I do what I do for money. You want who's really to blame?" she leaned forward as much as she could with her neck pinned. "Look in a mirror some time." Kildarn started applying pressure to Siara's neck, and pretty soon she was struggling to breathe, but still she did nothing.
"Why do you not resist, little Blade?" he asked in a taunting tone. "Too weak?"
Siara's eyes narrowed, but she still did nothing.
"You won't kill me, Kildarn," she forced out. "Not yet, anyway. You're too sadistic for that. You want to see me hurt the way you did."
"Like… this?" Kildarn asked quietly, releasing Siara before pressing his hand to the exposed burn on her side, Siara sucking in a breath, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her in pain. "Or maybe this?" he grasped her arm where she had been cut, Siara grimacing slightly, then glaring at him. "I'm surprised you haven't made a move to retaliate," he half grinned, not an overly nice sight.
Siara raised her chin slightly, her head ever so slightly leaning to the side.
"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction," she hissed, Kildarn's grin slipping to a scowl as he stepped back and left the room.
"Your time will come, Blade," he called back as the door slammed shut. "You will pay for what you did to my son."
Siara leaned her head back against the stone wall, closing her eyes as she let a sigh escape her.
"If I don't get bored of waiting, first," she muttered, too quietly for anyone to hear her, a dark look on her face.