Ten woke up to the clanking of metal on stone and a wave of smoke. She started, forgetting where she was. Several sheets of paper drifted to the floor as she rose. The sour taste of stale whiskey plagued the back of her throat. Flashes of the previous night came back, and she realized she had fallen asleep on the sofa, the charcoal pencil still in her hand and several sheets of her work on top of her. She heard a soft chuckle, and saw that a chambermaid, poker in hand, was relighting the fire in the large hearth at the end of the room.
"Never thought I'd see you like this, Teneira Tabris," she said.
"What, hungover and covered in my own scribblings?"
"Well no, that's not a surprise at all, it's more that you're on the divan in the guest wing of a fine house and not in a gutter somewhere."
"And a good morning to you too, Avrenis Lin," Ten replied. Avrenis, a cousin of Nath who tended bar in the Antivan quarter had, much like Gwylan, been working in the Arl of Redcliffe's city estate for more than a decade.
"Gwylan said you were here," Avrenis said, setting her basket of firewood down. Out of habit, Ten got up and grabbed the broom, sweeping yesterday's ash into a dustpan and emptying it into the bucket Avrenis had been carrying with her for that purpose, "I thought he was joking at first. But, here you are, and looking not a whit different than on your wedding day."
"It wasn't all that long ago," said Ten, "Not sure what you thought would have happened between then and now."
"Well I see you're not too fine a lady to sweep the hearth. That's good on you," she said.
"Those who won't sweep a hearth don't deserve a fire," Ten said, "How have you been?"
"It's been a difficult few months, I won't lie," the chambermaid replied, "I haven't been home in ages, it feels like. Too much trouble to get an escort to the Alienage and back, what with the master never being here. Most houses have a human butler or at least housekeeper. Not here, though."
"Oh, Reni, that's hard," said Ten, knowing she had several children, the youngest still under ten, "The little ones? They're all right with their dad?"
"They draw pictures they send to me," said Avrenis, "One of the scullery maids - Litha Novianis, do you know her? - fancies herself an acrobat, she has a way of sneaking across the rooftops. Takes our letters, brings theirs back, once every fortnight or so."
"Mallie Lee's apartment," chuckled Ten, referring to the top floor tenant of a building in the Antivan quarter from whose roof one could climb right over the top of the Alienage wall and onto the roof of the building on the other side, "I thought we all knew that trick."
"Yes, and if you fear not the law nor for the integrity of your knees, it's a perfectly fine thing to do," Avrenis said, "Wait until you hit forty, they won't be the same."
"Not planning on it," said Ten, "And I'm sorry for my part in that."
"Well, I heard the girls who worked at the Arl Urien's estate, if half of it's true, he had coming what you gave him and then some," Avrenis said, "We were always so grateful our master's never here. He's decent, but some of his friends… Haven't gotten my ass grabbed since I was your age and that brother of his was staying."
"Teagan! Really!" exclaimed Ten.
"Ah, he was a teenager. Fancied himself grown, staying all by himself in the big city. One of the other noble lads probably put him up to it," said Avrenis, "The housekeeper locked him in a closet and left him there for two days. Set him straight, I think." She crouched by the fireplace and coaxed the ashes back into a blaze, slowly feeding the dried sticks of maple in. "So, Ten, what exactly are you doing here and why is there charcoal all over your face?"
"I'm here on… well it's not strictly Grey Warden business, but it's related," said Ten, "We've been roped into trying to settle the matter of succession."
"Ah," Avrenis said, "That's what this is about. How did you find yourself tangled up in this one?"
"This one was not my fault, I assure you. Why, what do you know about it?"
"Well, I ran into two of the scullery maids at the palace at the market not two days ago," said Avrenis, standing. Ten grabbed the basket of firewood, impressed that the chambermaid, who was slight as they came, hefted it without even a grunt. She followed her down the hallway to the great fireplace at the other end.
"Really!" exclaimed Ten.
"It seems Teyrn Loghain has taken up residence in the wing across from his daughter," said Avrenis, "And started acting like he owns the place."
"And what does the queen have to say about that?" asked Ten.
"Wouldn't know," said Avrenis, "Her help keeps their own counsel. Apparently her lady's maid stays in whatever chambers the girls are cleaning, looks over their shoulder, hushes them the minute they talk."
"Is she human?" asked Ten, "The lady's maid?"
"No, she's an elf, but not one of ours. Foreign. Orlesian, I think," said Avrenis, "Doesn't deign to gossip with the rest of the staff, thinks she's too good for it. And they all know she'd squeal to her mistress if anyone dared try to get anything out of her."
"What about Loghain himself?" asked Ten. They had reached the smaller common area at the end of the hall, this one only large enough to fit two chairs and an enormous fireplace, clearly indeed to heat all of the guest rooms without requiring a hearth in each. Ten put the firewood down and grabbed the broom while Avrenis crouched and started scooping ashes into the pail.
"Drystan Kovalis has been his valet for years when he's in town," Avrenis said, "That hasn't changed, but Drystan's been losing his mind, not being able to go home, see Yereni and the kids. He's been pretty tight-lipped, I think he's afraid that if he lets anything slip it'll be an excuse to keep the Alienage locked up tight for even longer."
"What about the Arl of Denerim?" asked Ten, dumping the contents of the dustpan into the pail, "Who's got that job?"
"Arl Howe of Amaranthine," said Avrenis, "Unpleasant fellow, but according to the kitchen girls, not one for playing grab-ass with the staff at least. Apparently he eats exactly ten sardines on toast for breakfast, though, stinks the place up."
"Ugh," Ten groaned, "How'd he get the job?"
"Buggered if I know," Avrenis said, feeding wood into the fire, "Must be sympathetic to the man who would be king. Or perhaps he has something on him. You can never tell with their kind. Which room is yours?"
"That one," Ten pointed to the one with the door open that she didn't manage to actually make it to.
"Good, I'll light your fire first, and then I really must suggest you have a bath and let me send those clothes for laundering. Did you get a dog?"
"Yes," said Ten hesitantly, "She's out in the kennels with the other hounds. How did you know?"
"Sure and you smell like it," Avrenis chuckled, "Taking on bad habits from the shem. Letting the dogs sleep with you, what would your father think?"
"I honestly have no idea what my father would make of this whole thing," Ten said, "Dog in the tent would be the least of his worries."
"We are a clean people," Avrenis admonished, "We would rather be cold than filthy."
"Unfortunately, I am usually both," said Ten.
"Sure," said Avrenis. She rose, the fingers of flame working over the firewood, "But for the moment, you don't have to be either. Just enjoy it. It's nice that one of us gets to sleep in the good beds for once."
"Thanks Reni," said Ten. She let the older woman help her out of her frock.
"You've been wearing that underneath this whole time?" Avrenis gasped, seeing the bloodstained leather armor that Ten had on underneath.
"The finest Tevinter cotton doesn't block arrows," said Ten by way of an explanation.
"Ugh, looks uncomfortable. Can't believe you fell asleep in that."
"It is. And well, I suppose I can thank the whiskey and my own poor judgment for that," Ten said, unbuckling the vambraces from her arms, "Hopefully I'll manage to stay out of a fight for at least a bit while I'm here. I tell you, it gets tiresome."
"I'll right, I'll let you be, I suppose I'll be seeing quite a bit of you."
"Yes, I suppose so," Ten said, "And if you go to the market, try and pick me up some gossip, will you? I'm paying. Good coin this time. I've come up in the world. Also, you don't suppose Arlessa Isolde's lady's maid has left a bit of her wardrobe here?"
"Margie?" Avrenis asked, "I'm sure she has, what do you need that for?"
"I'm trying to be inconspicuous while I'm here," said Ten, "And… I hate to be the bearer of bad news but Margie didn't survive the absolute nonsense that's been going on in Redcliffe. She won't miss anything."
"Well," sighed Avrenis, "I feel for her family, but she was… well you know how lady's maids are. They think just because they are close to the ladies they have some sort of power and so much for the rest of us."
"I have no idea how lady's maids are," said Ten, "But I am certain they don't wear anything like what I've got, and it's my best bet for getting into the places I need to get into."
"I'll see what I can do. Anything that lifts this lockdown quicker."
"That's the first aim," said Ten. She waited for the door to click shut before pumping the washing basin full, and set about removing several days of road grime and dog smell.
After making herself somewhat clean, Ten slept away the rest of the hangover. There was no sense in hurrying, after all. She dared not go anywhere on her own, at least not in broad daylight, and most of what she wanted to discover would only take place well after sunset. By the time she awoke for the second time, everyone but Morrigan had already gotten out of bed and eaten, and were back in the common room, playing a very tense game of cards.
"Look who's decided to grace us with her presence!" Lelianna exclaimed, not entirely sarcastically.
"I was up with the chambermaids," Ten said dismissively, "Took a nap after stoking the fire, for which you are quite welcome."
"Sure you were. I don't want to hear a damned thing out of you about my drinking ever again," Alistair added, gesturing to the half-empty bottle of whiskey that Ten had left on the floor by the sofa she'd passed out on.
"I think better when I'm tipsy," Ten protested, "Anyway, Wynne helped me with that."
"Don't drag me into this," Wynne said. She was staring at her hand, her gray brows drawn down tightly over her eyes, "What is it the children say? Read 'em and weep." She laid her hand down.
"This is so unfair," Zev protested, laying down his hand face down, "You have clearly enchanted your cards."
"Don't be ridiculous. Only the Tranquil can enchant objects," Wynne said smugly.
"So, what is your brilliant plan for today?" asked Lelianna, folding her hand and crossing her arms, "And don't say you don't know yet."
Gwylan chose that moment to burst in the door without a knock or how do you do. His face was peaceful, but a vein on the side of his head was bulging and Ten could see the steam practically rising from where his hairline was, year by year, losing ground to his forehead. "I have a message from Redcliffe," he said, "The lady of the house, in her infinite wisdom, has allocated you a budget, to be meted out over the winter. Teneira?"
"Yes?"
He strode up to her and unceremoniously thrust a purse into her hand.
"Well shit," she said, "Please convey my thanks to Lady Isolde."
"I am a loyal servant," Gwylan said through gritted teeth, and stormed out the door.
"What's his problem?" asked Lelianna.
"I'm not entirely sure," said Ten, "Some of the elves who work the grand houses get a sort of complex about those of us who ply their trade within the walls of the Alienage. Like we're supposed to bow and scrape to them just like they bow and scrape to the sh- to the humans."
"Probably afraid it came out of his midwinter bonus," Alistair said.
"Has nobody noticed that my hand is stronger than the mage's?" asked Sten from his seat at the head of the table, where he had laid his hands down face up, "This is a silly game, and yet I have bested you all."
"Ugh, no!" exclaimed Alistair, seeing the qunari's hand, "I folded two deals ago, I would have won!"
"This is why the templars used to clear you out," said Ten, "You're so convinced you're about to lose you can't even see when you're winning."
"Probably true of more things than cards," he sighed.
"No time to unpack all that now," said Ten, "All right, I have our first moves. Wynne, you must know who employs mages in their houses, yes? Do you think you could arrange for a few social calls on old apprentices?"
"I… suppose I could," said Wynne, "But whatever could they know?"
"They'll know all the reputationally disastrous ailments," said Ten, "You know. The embarrassing ones. Like Orlesian pox."
"Antivan pox," Lelianna corrected.
"Rivaini pox," Zevran insisted.
"Whatever, it makes your bits rot off and you get it from jumping into bed with anything that moves," said Ten, "This will help them remember." She set a stack of coins down in front of Wynne.
"What is my mission?" asked Sten.
"There's an alley down by the Docks, east of here, on north of the river, where mercenaries ply their trade. Go there, hang out, look dangerous. Don't try to talk to anyone, I feel like you're shit at subterfuge, but let them talk to you. Go on a few jobs with them if you feel like it. About one in ten of those are going to be at the command of someone in the proper class."
"Do I get coin?" asked Sten.
"No, you'll be making it. You don't have to share."
"I am not interested in currency."
"Then you can take it and see as many puppet shows as would please you," said Ten, "Has anyone seen Morrigan?"
"Right here," a voice came from the corner of the room. Ten looked over, then down, then up, and down again as what she had at first taken for a dust bunny that Avrenis and her colleagues had missed, but was, in fact, an enormous cockroach, grew slowly more enormous.
"Oh my," Wynne exclaimed mildly, putting one hand over her mouth, as the insect swelled, and wings stretched out from its glossy carapace. The wings became hands and the carapace grew a spine, and eventually, there was the witch of the wilds in all her glory.
"Well that was a choice," Ten commented, "What was that for?"
"There was a hole in the wall I wished to explore."
"What did you find?"
"Dirt," said Morrigan.
"Well thankfully none of the maids found you with her shoe," said Ten, "You really do need to be careful. No return to the sewer for you?"
"I thought I'd try something different," said Morrigan.
"If one of us had crushed your head while you were like that, do you suppose you would have lived for nine days?" asked Alistair.
"Try it and see how long you keep yours," the witch countered.
"Can you be a bird of some sort?" Ten said, "You became a sparrow in Haven. Plenty of sparrows here, you'd fit right in."
"For what purpose?" asked Morrigan.
"Spying of course," said Ten, "The place where most of the noble estates are, except this one apparently. It's a neighborhood they call the Terrace and it's gated. It's due south of here on a plateau around Fort Drakon."
"What would I be looking for, were I to indulge this request?" asked Morrigan.
"Dirt, of course," said Ten, "You know those books you like so much? The ones where all the lords and ladies are screwing around with each other and backstabbing and all that?"
"The ones you keep telling me bear no resemblance to real life?"
"Well not your life, or mine," said Ten, "But remember, these are lazy, hedonistic people with nothing to do but plot against each other and jump into bed with someone new and different every week. Especially the minor lords with nothing to their names but a drafty manor house and a village of twelve turnip herders. They'll certainly be up to no good."
"So what do you need to know?" asked Morrigan.
"Anything that can ruin a reputation. Who's carrying on with his valet, who's secretly bald, whose children were secretly sired by the stable lad… you know, dirt." She spotted what she was looking for under the couch, and picked up the slightly crumpled lists she had spent the evening making, cringing as she saw how her handwriting went from bad to horrendous as she'd gotten further into the bottle, "Here, these are all the minor banns of the Coastlands and Hills. Start with them."
"Is this in Elvish or something?" asked Morrigan, taking the sheets and squinting at them, "Or did you use a code, this isn't any script I've ever seen."
"Don't be an ass," Ten sighed.
"What about the rest of us?" asked Lelianna, whose leg was jiggling in nervous anticipation.
"You two," said Ten, gesturing at Zev and Alistair, who were still at the card table. She set down a stack of coins in front of them, "Go over to the Gnawed Noble tonight, it's at the bottom of the district, against the river and all the aristocratic fools take their ale there. You'll just look like some landed sot and his manservant. Buy drinks for anyone who looks vaguely important and pretend you're really interested in what they're saying."
"Anyone in particular?" asked Alistair.
"No, but definitely keep a mental list. You can write it down when you get back," said Ten, "Lelianna, can you put on something a bit less nunly? I need you to be my mistress."
"Why Teneira, I thought you'd never ask," Lelianna giggled, fanning herself with her hand of cards.
"It's a surprise for me too," said Ten, "We're going to a whorehouse."
"That is not fair at all!" exclaimed Zev, "Why don't you go with Alistair and I shall escort our lay sister to the brothel?"
"Come on," said Ten, "You know what that would look like in front of the gentle clientele of that rarified bar. You heard the butler, can't have a scandal in this house." She mimicked Gwylan's cultivated speech with the last bit, "Anyway the professionals don't know you as anything other than a probably very obnoxious customer."
"Oh, and how do they know you?" asked Zev, narrowing his eyes.
"I don't even think you want to know that," said Ten.
"Are you secretly the madame or something?"
"Nothing so grand. A few of them have had certain uses for my… skills over the years," said Ten, "Preventatives for the girls, relaxants for the boys, lubricants for everyone, and of course johns having convenient accidents if they get too rough or refuse to pay… but that's not important. Just come back and write down what you see, let's all plan to be back here tomorrow morning this time."
"Why Teneira, do you have somewhere else you'll be spending the night?" asked Zev, raising his eyebrows.
"I told you. I have to talk to some whores, besides you," said Ten, "And they don't call them ladies of the midafternoon, do they."