The outside of the building was ramshackle to say the least. The first floor seemed to be built over a small moving river that flowed downhill through Denerim's alienage. As it crept into the market district, it would be diverted underground with pipes, but the Arl had never quite gotten around to transforming what eventually became an open sewer in the city's poorest quarter. The first floor being soggy, the owner had built a ramp so that people visiting it could go directly to the second floor, which while perhaps dryer, was no better built. Eddin Rasphander smirked and looked at his subordinates. There were but four men assigned to the alienage at any given time, and he had been put in charge of them a mere week beforehand.
"I don't see what's going to be so hard about keeping these savages from killing each other," he said, "Though if you ask me, you just let them at each other. Keep the population down, so to speak."
Two of his subordinates gave each other a meaningful look. "You'd best be keeping that opinion to yourself in front of the arlessa," Kennit, an older man who had been assigned to the alienage for most of his career, but had always refused a promotion to the captain of the squad.
"And have I mentioned how ridiculous it is that she calls herself an arlessa?" Eddin replied, "I'll address her by her first name like the lowlife she is."
"She doesn't call herself that," Kennit said, "I call her that. It's what she is. Listen, Rasphander, I know you're wanting to handle this in the way you're accustomed to handling it, but it ain't the same as ordering around the servants in your household. These elves are citizens of Denerim, same as you and me."
"They live here because we allow them to live here," Eddin admonished his subordinate, "Things have been going wild in this neighborhood precisely because of attitudes like yours. They aren't like us, Kennit, they're not civilized. They have to be reminded that we have laws for a reason. Without us, they would be tattooing their faces and romping through the forest like the Dalish, wiping their asses on pinecones."
Kennit was silent, but an expression flitted across his face. Was it a smirk? Eddin was suspicious of the old man to say the least. A guardsman all his life, never wanting a promotion? There must be a reason for it. He feared this Arlessa of the Alienage, that much was clear. A silly man, to fear some uppity knife-eared bitch, putting on airs far above her station. The other two guards were no better. One, Jochrim, was a bit younger than Eddin, but had been patrolling the Alienage for some time. The other, Machias, was nearly up for retirement. Hardly a fearsome bunch, he thought, these elves must be placid indeed. Probably all the drink.
"The fact that I'm even deigning to meet with her shows remarkably bad judgment on my part," Eddin grumbled, "I should just ignore her and go about doing my job, like a real guardsman, not kowtowing to some wench."
"I can't tell you any more than I've told you," Kennit said, "But I've been walking this beat for fifteen years. We are fairly tangential to whether there is peace or war in the alienage. They never patrolled this area are until fifteen years ago, and for some reason the place didn't burn to the ground before that."
"No thanks to its inhabitants, I'm sure," Eddin said, "We were likely doing them a favor. At least when we owned them we could look over their shoulders every so often and make sure everything was on the up and up. Now we let them loose in a neighborhood and look how they treat it." He poked at the roof of the building with the point of his halberd and the thing started shedding shingles like a Mabari sheds his winter coat come springtime, "Then again I suppose it's good we don't invite them into our own neighborhoods so they can burn us in our beds."
Edding reached down and opened the door without bothering to knock, and caught his breath at what was inside. While outside the buildings were in poor condition, nearly falling down, this room was fairly decorated. A roaring fire blazed in the large fireplace at the end of the room, and the walls were hung with huge portraits. At first he thought that it must be stolen art that some servant had pilfered from her master, but on closer inspection, the portraits were all of elves. What a waste of a skilled hand, he thought, admiring the paintings, why, this artist could have painted kings! Great battle scenes! And here he was, memorializing a bunch of slaves. What a shame.
"I see you admiring the work of Anorin Valstrig," a voice came from behind.
Eddin whirled. Standing there, wearing a simple but well made gown of green silk, stood an elfin woman. She had odd coloring, as many elves did. When a human had dark complexion, like the Rivaini traders who came through the port every so often, they generally had black hair and dark eyes. With elves, it was though the colors had nothing to do with each other. T Her hair curly and a glossy light brown, as were her eyes. Indeed, as was all of her. Her callused hands indicated that she toiled outside by day, and the sun had lightened her hair and darkened her skin until she looked as though she were a statue all carved out of a single block of wood. Eddin had never found delicate elfin women attractive, preferring humans and the occasional dwarf, with broad hips, but he found something otherworldly about the girl, and he found it difficult to take his eyes off of her.
"He painted arls and teyrns, and even the old King Maric Theirin once," she said, "Not many knew him to be an elf, but he was, from this very alienage. When he wasn't working, he would paint his fellow residents. See, my mother there."
She lifted one long finger to indicate a portrait of a woman younger than she, with black hair and green eyes. The name 'Adaia' was carved into the frame of the picture.
"We keep his paintings here for his memory," she said.
"What happened to him?" Eddin asked, curious despite himself.
"He fell in love with a woman," she said, "A servant in the house of the arl. She loved him as well."
"And?"
"She was human," the elfin woman said, "He was caught letting his eyes linger on her for a moment more than was seemly. They accused him of rape, and a lynch mob hung him from the vehnadahl, the great tree that grows outside this very building. His body was left there for weeks, and the arl forbid us to cut him down. His mother had to walk by every morning and see the crows peck at her son's distended body."
"Well, with all due respect, miss," Eddin said, "It's not as though a human woman could consent to lie with an elf man. It just isn't natural. But I'm here for a reason, and it looks as though you're expecting me." The thought of it made him sick. He imagined, for a moment, how he would feel if his sister Calita told him she wanted to marry an elfin man. Everyone knew that elves bewitched young human girls and took advantage of their naivety. This Anorin Valstrig probably was a rapist, and deserved his fate. There was a reason things were the way things were.
She looked him up and down, then, as though sizing him up. He chuckled inwardly at this. The girl was half his size, if that.
"Yes," she said, "And yet to hear your kind talk, elf women are nothing but consent when it comes to human males and their lumbering advances." She spat out the word male as though she were talking about an animal, a hound or a rooster. She looked him up and down again, "You and your subordinates may have a seat at the table. I see from our limited interaction that you and I are not going to be friends, and so I must ask your leave to fetch some subordinates of my own."
Eddin walked over to the table and sat himself next to the head. His three guards hung back for a moment, but upon being ordered to do so, sat themselves. Their air of trepidation had grown into outright fear. He was beginning to feel a little nervous himself. The woman returned with two gingerhaired elves, one man that he recognized as working in the stables further upriver and a woman who had the cracked hands of a scullery maid. These are her back-up? These malnourished laborers? What a farce this is.
She sat herself at the head of the table. Eddin realized at this moment that this woman was the fabled Arlessa of the Alienage. No wonder she had such a smart mouth. She was used to being among her own kind, day in and day out. Sort of like being the fastest pig in the world, he thought, very good when you're among other pigs, but not very effective when a horse showed up to the race. She has a thoroughbred in the house now, he thought, and she'd best learn to check her attitude when it comes to us. Her 'people' seated themselves along her right side, facing his guards.
"Hello, Kennit," the redheaded man said, "How's your wife doing?"
"Much better, thanks for asking, Soris," Kennit said, "She's gotten over the fever, and her leg is doing much better."
"Good to hear," the elf man said, smiling.
"I hear you're getting married soon!" Kennit said, "Congratulations, my boy. I tell you, there's nothing like coming home to a wife to ease a man's troubles."
At this the gingerhaired elf blushed red, and nodded, "Thank you," he said, though his tone of voice betrayed some doubt.
"My friends," the "arlessa" said, smiling, "We are here to greet and welcome the newest commander of the guards assigned to our little corner of Denerim. His name is Eddin Rasphander. Did you hear that clearly? Eddin Rasphander."
Her people were silent, but the elf woman seated across from Eddin smirked.
"Eddin Rasphander is thirty years old," Teneira said, "His wife's name is Maylin. He has two children, Eddin Junior, who is eight, and Andry, who is six. Maylin is pregnant again, but he doesn't know it yet. She's waiting until the quickening, because when she miscarried her last pregnancy, he didn't speak with her for three days. They live in a house by the Drakon River, just south of the Market District. It's unmistakable because of the blue shutters. Maylin had them painted several years ago, and she's dreadfully proud of them."
Eddin's jaw must have been on the floor, because Jochrim elbowed him hard, reminding him to shut his mouth. He did so, and swallowed hard. How in Andraste's name did she know about me? He thought.
"So, Eddin," she said, "We know all about you. All about you. We know where your children go to school. We know that your wife often carelessly leaves the fire going after she goes to bed so that you have a warm house to come home to after an evening shift. Wouldn't it just be so terrible if a stray cinder were to set the curtains on fire? Or, if, god forbid, all the brandy you keep in the cupboard to take the sharp edges off of life, were to go up in flames? With your wife and children asleep upstairs?"
"You… are you threatening my family?" he gasped. Savages, indeed! Even centuries under our tutelage and they are still but wild beings, devoid of any morals, laws! He felt the hair prick up on the back of his neck.
"Me? Threaten?" she gasped, "Maker's breath, no. I am but a simple elfin maiden. I can't resist the charms of a big, handsome, human man like you." She smiled sweetly, and leaned forward towards him, so that their faces were mere inches apart, and her brown eyes bored into his blue ones like knives, "But I'm not done yet. I know more about you, Eddin Rasphander. I know that you're a bastard son of the arl himself. I know that your mother was a whore at the Pearl and you've only been appointed to this post because she threatened him with blackmail, apparently he likes a finger up his… well I won't go into crass detail, you get the gist. I also know that you're in quite a precarious position with the guardsmen because you were promoted over other, much more qualified candidates. And I know that any disturbances that occur in the alienage on your watch will reflect poorly on you. Very poorly indeed." She paused, and produced a pipe from her belt. Silently, she filled it, while the others in the room, elves and humans, watched her. She lit it from the candle burning on the table before her. She took a couple of puffs, and passed it to the woman to her right, who did the same.
"So now tell me, Eddin Rasphander," she said, "What do you know about me?"
He sat there, dumbstruck, realizing that he did not even know her name.
"That's what I thought," she said, "Well, I will tell you this much. My name is Teneira Tabris, and while perhaps you are the one on the arl's payroll, I am the one who keeps peace in this district. When a group of drunken humans comes here to terrorize the elf women, it's not the guards that send them back where they came from with their limbs intact, if not their dignity. When there is trouble brewing and a riot is imminent, the arl can send whomever he wants to try to quell it, but I am the one who has the power to stop it. When the domestic labor threatens a strike and boycott, it happens or does not happen because I say so. Your dishes get washed and your laundry gets done because I allow the maids and servants to go to work. I keep the elvish moonshine in the casks at the Gnawed Noble. I make sure the elfin whores at the Pearl get safely to and from their work. Have you ever wondered why there is no bandit activity in the Alienage?"
"Because there's nothing here worth stealing," Eddin asked.
"Oh, you dear silly man. You haven't gotten the point yet." She took the pipe back from the ginger elf, and took a lusty drag. She sat back, and slowly let the smoke out, as though she were going to blow a smoke ring. It was not a ring, however, and the cloud of smoke materialized into the shape of a great wolf, hanging there in the air between them.
"Ooh, you've gotten the dread wolf," murmured Kennit.
"If peace or war occurs here, it will have nothing to do with you," Teneira said, her voice suddenly low and threatening, and as she spoke, the smoky shape of the wolf became larger and drew nearer to the captain, and it was as though she was speaking with both the voice of the unearthly beast and her own, "The arl may rule Denerim, but we rule the Alienage."
Eddin pushed back from the table and scrambled to his feet, not needing to be told twice, "You uppity, knife-eared bitch," he growled, "What, are you all apostate mages now? I ought to report you to the Chantry for this… this dark magic! I knew it, you're all witches and demons!"
"That's a bad move, Ed," Jochrim sighed, but made no move to stop him. Eddin's halberd was out by this time, as though he could fight the smoke-wolf with steel. He backed himself into a corner, brandishing it out in front of him so that none could get too close.
"What a disappointment," Teneira sighed, waving her hand and dissipating the smoke in the air, "And I thought perhaps we might be able to get along so famously. Very well, Eddin Rasphander. You may go. Don't get too comfortable as a sergeant, though, for I assure you, your command of this squad is quite temporary."
"I will do no such thing!" he spat, "I only suspected before, but now I know that this quarter is populated by nothing but thugs and brigands and… and blood mages! Your kind only respects one kind of power, and believe you me, I know how to wield it."
"Very well, then," Teneira said, "I'm sorry you feel that way. If this is the kind of power we understand, it is because it is the kind of power that has been used on us for the last…"
"And I am so sick of hearing that excuse from your kind!" Eddin shouted, "Your time as slaves ended generations ago. Whose fault is it that you can't pull yourselves up? It's because you're all lazy criminals. We should have kept you on as property, it's about all you're good for."
To his amazement, the elves at the table all began to laugh, little tinkling laughs at first, and growing into loud guffaws.
"Oh, Eddin Rasphander," Teneira said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, "You are so very quaint. Very well, go on your way, I don't suppose we'll be meeting again. Take your men with you, though I have to give them my sympathy and I hope dearly that their next commander is somewhat more reasonable."
Eddin didn't need to be told twice. He turned and all but ran out of the house, scrambling down the ramp outside, muddying his boots as he forgot where the open sewer ran. His men followed him.
"That was a mistake, Eddie," Machias said, shaking his head. The other guards nodded their agreement.
"How did she do that?" he said, gasping and redfaced with rage, "Is it some kind of curse? Some kind of magic unknown to the Maker?"
Kennit and Machias looked at each other, and shrugged, "I wouldn't know," Kennit said, "Cantrips and charms, more likely. It did seem to get to you, though."
"I got a halla when she tried it on me," Machias pointed out.
"This is… this is ridiculous. And I think you've also forgotten who your superiors are just as much as she has. I am alerting my brother of this little encounter on the morrow. And the Chantry! If you think he'll be as forgiving as I am for this type of outrage, then you are sorely mistaken. You are all relieved of your posts, starting immediately."
The guards looked at each other. Kennit and Machias had been patrolling the Alienage for fifteen years, Jochrim for five. There had always been an elf they dealt with, sometimes a crime boss, sometimes an elected official, to keep peace in the District. For the several years that Teneira had been filling the post, the Alienage had been peaceful. She kept the peace, and in return the guards conveniently botched the investigation when she suggested that a human turned up dead in the river had deserved it for one reason or another. Her predecessor, Leonara, had not been nearly so reasonable – the Alienage under her leadership had rioted at the drop of a pin, doing more damage to themselves than to Denerim as a whole, but enough damage to put a dent in the number of available domestic servants. If this bastard son of the arl were going to take true control of the Alienage in his own hamhanded fashion, they would have to brace themselves for an all-out war.
"Nothing to be done about it, may as well go home," Kennit said, but he might as well have said "Get out of here for Maker's sake, before everything goes to blazes!" given how fast the guards scattered back to their homes.
Eddin Rasphander shook his head and inwardly vowed revenge on the "arlessa." She probably thought she knew everything. She was not banking on a few cards he had in his deck. She would pay dearly for her arrogance, he thought, dearly indeed.
Meanwhile, inside, Teneira had gone from relaxed and flippant to a ball of nervous energy. She snatched the pipe from where it had wound up at the end of the table, and smoked furiously. She was young for one in her position. Though she did not know her precise date of birth, she said she was twenty-five and pretended her birthday was two days past the fall equinox. She distinctly remembered twenty winters, though she was not sure how old she was when she had started to remember things, so that was not terribly helpful. Still, she spoke with the easy grace of a diplomat, or the cunning, cutting tone of a crime boss, convincingly enough that most of the guards would be happy to play ball. Eddin Rasphander, though, he seemed to have an agenda already set out before he came to the table.
"He was serious," she said, "I think I overplayed my hand something awful."
"You're going to have to tell me how you do the thing with the smoke at some point," Shianni, her redheaded right-hand woman said, "What do you think he saw?"
"Hopefully the end of his career," Soris, the pale laborer quipped.
"They see what their mind makes up," Teneira said, "Funny how their minds seem to always conjure the same things. Few choice herbs in with the pipeweed, blow it in their faces, and they see what they want to see. Beauty of it is it only works on humans. Otherwise the lot of us would be experiencing mild hallucinations as well."
"Leona knew what she was doing, handing the reins to you," Shianni said, "She never would have thought of a trick like that. Anyway, if anything, that roundeared little shit overplayed his own hand. He's a bastard, after all, it's not like he has any real power."
"Still," Soris sighed, "Ten has a point. We're all going to have to watch our backs until Eddin's replaced." He sighed, "It's not your fault, though, cousin. You did well. Would have made me soil my pants if you were talking to me."
Teneira laughed, "And how long do you suppose, until they figure out that my bark is embarrassingly bigger than my bite?"
"There's only one way to do that," Shianni said, "Get a bigger bite."
The Arlessa of the Alienage chuckled, "And how am I supposed to do that as a married woman? Poor lad from Highever doesn't even know who it is he's tangling with. I read the letter Father sent trying to find me a husband. He said that I liked gardening and knitting."
"You do like gardening and knitting, it's not like it was a lie," Shianni said, "Of course, he left that apparently the garden is full of hallucinogens and poisons and the knitting needles are barbed. But, then again I'm sure every parent he's written to from Amaranthine to Val Royeaux left off the part where his son has a wall-eye and prefers the company of boys!"
Teneira laughed, but her laughter was hollow. The negotiations had only just begun, but the near decade of putting her father off, insisting she was too young or too busy to marry, rejecting potential matches left and right, were over. She had given her consent to this one - some lad from Highever with an established trade as a goldsmith - begrudgingly, acknowledging that she did have a duty to her people beyond what she had already done. The elvish population of any given city was kept in check - if not with outright murder then with malnutrition and disease. Without arranging marriages in an among them, the only new blood would come when an elf woman raped by a human brought the pregnancy to term, something which rarely happened, thanks to Teneira's love of gardening and talent with brewing potions. She had seen the effects of inbreeding on families too poor to make good matches. Mismatched facial features, blindness, children born with too many fingers – or too few. While she recognized the need for a husband from far outside Denerim, this did little to ease her nervousness about the prospect. She was a good match, she knew that. Sure, a little on the older side, but all in all, still in her prime, the owner of a successful alchemist's shop. Healing potions and good magicks, she said, my husband doesn't need to know about the other things.
"As for your..." Shianni paused, looking for the right word, "Your role in the Alienage, just wait until the marriage is legal and unbreakable. And then, the morning after your wedding you roll over and say 'Oh, by the way, dear, there may or may not be a sergeant of the Guard who would like nothing better than to take my ears for a trophy! Hope you're not dreadfully put out with me!'"
Teneira sighed, "I suppose we should be getting on home then. Who was that lieutenant who's fucking his captain's wife?"
"Guither Langerre," said Soris, "I'll get him a message gently suggesting that Rasphander be replaced."
The three of them left the meeting room and walked the few blocks home. As always, her father asked no questions of his daughter or his niece, just as he had asked no questions of his wife. Teneira curled up in her bunk and pulled the covers to her nose.
That night, for the first time of what would be many, she dreamed of dragons.