She awoke at noon to Alistair shaking her gently by the shoulder. "Fuck do you want," she groaned.
"We've got to get up to the castle and deal with whatever this is before nightfall. We're not a hundred percent sure we've actually dealt with the threat to the village, and they are fresh out of tar," he said, "I'm sorry, you're going to have to wake up."
"Why can't you and Teagan just go," she whined, "You know the lay of the land in there and I'm pretty useless in close quarters, you said you yourself."
"Ten, come on," he said.
"Fine," she sighed, rolling over and rising. The prayer mat she'd been sleeping on had done little to shield her from the hardwood floor, and her back was paying the price.
"We'll leave Lelianna and Sten to make sure the village is in good hands if there's another issue with… whatever that was," he said.
"All right," she said. She rubbed her eyes and stretched her back out, "All right. I'm up. Let's go."
She followed him up the path towards the windmill, where Teagan was pacing before it. He was not, however, alone there. He appeared to be arguing with a woman wearing a fine blue gown in the Orlesian style, her hair up in a gilded net. As they drew nearer, she felt Alistair tense beside her.
"That the bitch who evicted you?" Ten asked.
"The very one," he replied.
"Want me to fight her?" Ten asked.
"What?"
"Do you want me to fight her?" she asked more slowly, enunciating her consonants, keeping 'her' from coming out as 'huh,' reminded of Teagan's comment on the grating accents of capital denizens.
"No, I understood you the first time," he said, "That was a 'what' of astonishment."
"Given everything you know about me, are you really surprised I'd get into a catfight with a noblewoman?"
"No, more that you'd get into a catfight with a noblewoman on my account."
"I have a keenly developed sense of justice," Ten said, and started to call out to the bann, but paused as she saw how the and the arlessa were interacting, "Wait. They haven't seen us yet. Hold a moment, I want to watch.".
"Watch what?"
"Just look at the two of them."
The bann had stopped pacing, and was standing still. The arlessa had both her hands on Teagan's chest and seemed to be begging him for something. He was holding her at arm's length, but their heads were tilted towards each other.
"Now see what happens. Bann Teagan!" Ten shouted and waved, picking up her pace.
The bann and his sister–in-law all but jumped apart, springing up and away like two drops of water tossed into a pan of hot oil.
"Grey Warden!" Teagan shouted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, "This is Lady Isolde. It seems she's been told by… whatever's up there that I need to return to the castle with her."
"My lady," Ten said, nodding. Isolde looked exhausted, bags under her eyes, her face drawn.
" You are a Grey Warden?" she asked incredulously. She had a pronounced Orlesian accent, far worse than Lelianna's.
"It was a surprise for me too," said Ten, "What is going on in there?"
"Teagan, what are the Grey Wardens doing here?"
"They defended the village, your village all last night," Teagan said.
"Well I thank you for that, I suppose," she said, "But Teagan, you need to come back with me now. And just you. It's the only way. Most of the staff are dead, and I think Connor has gone mad."
"The only way for what?" asked Ten.
"Would you mind your business, elf?" Isolde snapped.
Ten instinctively grabbed one earlobe to take her earrings out, but remembered she wasn't wearing any.
"Hey, you don't get to talk to her like that," Alistair exclaimed, stepping between them, clearly afraid Ten was going to make good on her previous offer.
"What? You? And what are you doing here?" the arlessa demanded.
"Grey Wardens," Teagan said again, "I apologize for my sister-in-law, Miss Tabris, she is clearly beside herself. Isolde, tell them what you told me."
"The… issues we've been having are due to a mage who infiltrated the castle. He has poisoned my husband! He said he was sent by agents of Teyrn Loghain."
"With what?" Ten asked.
"What do you mean?"
"What kind of poison?" she asked.
"I don't know," said Isolde, "I'm not a physician. How would I know?"
"Well, what happened to him? Stomach cramps? Fatigue? Dizziness? Paralysis?"
"I don't know!" Isolde protested, "He's been laid up for three weeks! And now, there are just… all sorts of creatures, and Connor has gone mad! Teagan, you must come. He respects you. Perhaps you can reason with him."
"Listen," Teagan said, "You two go down through the dungeons on your own. I'll go back with Isolde. We'll probably run into each other on the other end."
"I don't like it," Ten said, looking suspiciously at the arlessa, "Smells like an ambush."
"Still," said Teagan, "I think it would be for the best. Take my signet ring, it'll unlock a trapdoor in the northern quarter of the mill. Probably covered with several years worth of chaff."
Ten took it, pocketed it, and nodded, looking suspiciously at the arlessa and her brother-in-law. "If you say so," she said.
The bann and the arlessa made their way back up the path to where some goodhearted villager had done a halfassed repair to the nearest bridge. Ten watched until they were out of earshot.
"They're having an affair," said Ten, "Or they have in the past. Or they want to. Something's going on."
"That's a hell of an accusation," Alistair responded, wrinkling his nose, "What makes you think that?"
"If I'm upset and being comforted by someone else's husband in a totally platonic and not-at-all inappropriate way, I don't jump out of my skin the moment someone sees me," said Ten.
"That's… oh no that is terribly awkward. You actually have a point."
"And that little display is very interesting in the context of the Arl's mysterious illness. She came right out and said it was poison. Given that she seems to be beside herself with her husband's condition, it's strange that she couldn't describe any symptoms."
"You don't think…"
"I'm just saying we should keep an open mind," said Ten, "Devious wives don't raise the dead, after all. But I say this as someone in the industry that my biggest buyers for the bad stuff were women who were… dissatisfied in their marriages."
"And you sold it to them?"
"I can't very well tell someone living in the slums of Denerim they can't have rat poison," she said.
"Well once we're in there I'm sure we can satisfy that dark and terrifying thing you call a brain," said Alistair, "We're not doing any favors standing here speculating.
She pushed open the doors to the windmill. The thing hadn't been used in months, it seemed, but the dust still hung in the air, and she immediately sneezed four or five times in a row. She went to the north end of it and rummaged on the floor until she found the trapdoor Teagan had described. There was, indeed, a place that would take the seal on the great signet ring, far too large for any of her fingers. She inserted it, heard a click, and felt a mechanism move beneath the floor. Lifting with her knees, she got it open. A ladder descended into the darkness below.
"Didn't plan on seeing another dungeon for years," she sighed to herself, "All right. Get to it, Tabris." She slid through, scrambled down the ladder, and stood there where her eyes adjusted to dim torchlight. She heard the thump of Alistair climbing down after her.
"It is, indeed, the dungeons," he confirmed, "If my memory serves me, there are six cells, three on each side. Beyond those there's a store room, then a staircase that'll spit us out near the chapel. Then there are the kennels, servant's quarters, kitchen. That'll get us out into the courtyard."
"I can't see for shit," Ten said, "Can you?"
"Not well," he said, "But I know where things are. Come on."
From far away, they heard someone call out. "Is there someone there?!"
"Definitely came from a cell," Alistair said.
"Who do they even lock up around here?" Ten scoffed, "People who stay up past 9 pm?"
"I was ten, I didn't exactly serve on the judiciary."
"Who's there?" she called out.
"I'm here. In the cell. There are about six of those animated corpses out there. They'll get the bars out of the stone soon. Please!" It was a man's voice. Young, but not that young. Flat accent from the Bannorn.
Ten grabbed the hatchet by her side in her right hand and the dagger she'd started keeping strapped to her left boot in the other. She felt Alistair's hand on her shoulder.
"Let me run in there like an idiot. Their weapons are old and rusted, saw them on the bridge last night, they won't hold up to chain. Just get behind them while they're distracted and do what you do best."
She readied her weapons while he, indeed, ran in there like an idiot. Four of those… things sprang to life and surrounded him, hacking with swords which, indeed, looked like they'd seen better days.
The adrenaline pumping, she followed. Up close, they were… squishier than she'd anticipated watching them fall into the lake of fire. She stuck her hatchet in one of their skulls with one hand and slice her dagger through the ankle of a second. She then ducked and rolled out of the way as Alistair's longsword swung around and threatened to cut her off at the knees. The other two fell, and they stood there, in the half dark, as two more rose and advanced on them.
She went first, using her low center of gravity to barrel into one of the corpses, which was dreadfully spongy when she finally made contact with it. Getting it to the ground, she took off one arm with her hatchet, and stabbed up with her dagger into its chin and up into whatever was still in its skull. It stopped moving, and she turned to see if any help was needed with the other. It was not, for its severed head had plopped to the floor.
"Are you hurt?" she asked.
"Not badly," Alistair called, "Wait… shit."
"Where were you hit?"
"I don't want to alarm you, but this is bleeding quite a bit," he said.
"Where?"
"My leg. Shit. That's… quite a lot."
She rushed back to him, where indeed, a dark pool was forming on the flagstones of the dungeon.
"Oh that's not good," she sighed. She went through her pack, but in the dim light could not discern what was a coagulant and what was a fearsome poison, "Shit. I really have to start color coding these."
"Let me out and I'll fix it," the voice they had heard before said, "I'm a mage."
Ten looked, and for the first time saw the silhouette of a young man wearing mage's robes behind the bars of a cell.
"What were you in there for?" she asked suspiciously.
"Doesn't matter," he said, "Free me, or he's going to bleed out and there's nothing you can do about it."
"Fuck," Ten cursed, "Fine." She felt for the wall, then the bars, then the lock on it. Frantically, she found by feel two hairpins she'd made a habit of keeping in her pocket. Daveth's voice echoed in her head. You find the thingy, and wiggle the other thingy. The damn thing clicked, the bars swung open, and the whole room was suddenly bathed in light as the mage applied whatever magic he knew.
"Fuck," muttered Alistair, sitting up slowly, "Well, that could have gone badly."
"But it didn't, thanks to me," the mysterious mage said, sitting back on his heels, "Please keep that in mind."
"You have a name, convenient mage?" asked Ten.
"Jowan," he said, "Lately of the Ferelden Circle."
"But you're not in the Ferelden Circle," she pointed out, "That's up the coast a bit. What are you doing here?"
"I suppose keeping secrets will do me no good at this point. I am here because Lady Isolde, in her infinite wisdom, hired me to tutor her son Connor."
"Why would she hire a mage for that? And how'd that land you in the dungeon?"
"The child is a mage," he sighed, "She had this harebrained idea that she was going to teach him to hide it and avoid him going off to the Circle and losing everything."
"How old's Connor?"
Alistair thought for a moment, "Probably eleven by now?"
"That's old, isn't it," said Ten, looking to Jowan for confirmation.
"Very," said Jowan, "It's when the magic starts mixing with the puberty and a dangerous situation becomes… explosive."
"And I thought I had an awkward phase," muttered Ten.
"Did Eamon know?" asked Alistair.
"Don't think so," said Jowan, "I was strictly forbidden from telling him."
"But he never, you know, noticed?" asked Ten, "Seems like something you'd notice about your child. I'm pretty sure my dad would have realized I was raising the dead before it became a threat to the whole neighborhood."
"And why didn't you take him to the Circle yourself?" Alistair asked.
"I don't have a great history with the Circle," Jowan sighed.
"Oh, I don't like that, that only means one thing," Alistair said.
"I only dabbled!" said Jowan.
"No, once a blood mage, always a blood mage," Alistair declared, "Do you have any idea how fucking dangerous that is?"
"I've only been stuck in here, alone in the dark, for I don't even know how long," said Jowan, "And the good lady of this land had me tortured. I've only just finished putting the bones of my hands back where they were. So yes, I have a good idea of how dangerous you people think it is."
"But she hired you," said Ten, "She went and sought out an apostate mage to try to keep her son from the Circle. She's as guilty as you are. Unless you did something else."
"I… just don't know," he said.
"Jowan, did you have something to do with the Arl's condition?"
"There is a document up there with my signature on it that says I poisoned him," said Jowan, "But I genuinely have no memory of this."
"Seems like someone one would remember," said Ten, "And it occurs to me that if you've been down here, and you were, indeed, the culprit, there has been nobody up there. Usually when you want a poison to mimic a slow decline, you need to keep dosing them."
"Ten, not to impugn your impeccable if terrifying expertise in this field, but he confessed," Alistair pointed out.
"He said he was tortured," said Ten, "And a man being tortured can be made to say pretty much anything you want."
"And how, exactly, do you know that?" Alistair asked, looking at her sideways.
"Trial and error," she said, "Obviously."
"Oh, but I'm the scary one," Jowan scoffed, "Better toss her in the cell before she shows up with hot irons and thumbscrews. And who are you people anyway?"
"I'm a felon and he's a templar," said Ten, "So why don't you think really hard about your next move. How useful are you to us? Can you help the kid? Make the whole dead-rising-every-night thing stop?"
"Well the corpses are likely not really his fault. Not entirely. The thing with young people with magic who haven't learned to control it is they're susceptible to being possessed."
"Ugh. Possession. I hate to say it," Alistair said, taking in the information and thinking about it for a short while, "We're probably going to have to kill the kid."
"All right, well now we've all said something terrible," said Ten, "But 'probably' is not 'definitely' so I think it's time to redeem yourself, Master Blood Mage. You're going to clean up the mess you made."
"Ten, he's a blood mage," Alistair protested.
"I know," she said, "In fact I just called him that. But here's the thing, he's just saved your life. He hasn't tried to end either of us, and I'm sure just given the quantity of the stuff you've just given to the stones, he could do it if he damn well wanted to."
"I'm not throwing in with a blood mage," Alistair declared, crossing his arms.
"I'm not suggesting we throw in with a blood mage," said Ten, "But I'm not going to put an ax in his skull merely because of who he is. You have to earn that."
"I have no interest in either of your lives," said Jowan, "You've been decent and don't think I don't appreciate that. I can help the kid, or at the very least tell you how to help him."
"So will you come with us?" she asked.
"Wait wait wait," Alistair protested, "This is one of those insane plans, Ten, this actually is the craziest thing you've ever said. Stop it."
"No, I will not be coming with you," said Jowan, "I'm weak. I've been down here for I don't know how long. They tortured me within an inch of my life. They stopped feeding me three days ago. I don't have the energy to fight whatever abominations that child has called up. I just used up the rest of my strength closing up that artery in your leg, which you're welcome for, by the way. So I'll be waiting right here until I'm satisfied the two of you very frightening strangers have dealt with whatever's up there," He stepped back and into the darkness.
"So are you actually fixed?" Ten asked.
"I'm in fighting shape," sighed Alistair.
"Let's get to it, then."
They stalked through the next room to a spiral staircase.
"Did you really want me to let you bleed out?" Ten asked.
"You didn't know at the time," Alistair said, "But now you do! And you're just letting him walk away!"
"If you can look that man in the eye and shove a sword in his chest after he patched you up, there's not a lot I can do to stop you," said Ten.
He looked behind him into the darkness, sighed, and turned back to the stairs.
"You've got a strange set of scruples," he said, "Did you really torture someone?"
"He deserved it," said Ten, "Couldn't keep his hands off his shop girl."
"Really, torture though?"
"She was twelve."
"Ah. Fair enough."
"Would have done the same if she was forty."
"At least you're consistent."