For some reason, the amulet Coin had given me radiated similar safety as a shard of red lyrium did. I felt no immense power from it and guessed that it had to be activated somehow. Merely being a mage wasn't enough to discover its benefits.
The road back to Kirkwall was long and quiet. The truth of the qunari in the city must have hit my brother hard and I noticed he kept his hands balled, unable to relax. I couldn't hide in a corner and cry how unfortunate I had been, but like Roghart had stated at the Blooming Rose, my capture had left a wide scar on the family which was not easily healed. The fact that Roghart had dealt with the Arishok without knowing his true colors only made it worse.
My opinion of the qunari as a race couldn't be changed in a flash and if my almost identical brother shared any of my traits, I doubted he would look at them the same way he had till now. He likely couldn't trust the horned men if I had an issue regarding them.
At least that was how I perceived my brother. His words weren't always the kindest ones, but they were edged with concern and his will to protect. It was also possible that Roghart wasn't going to be troubled because of the qunari, though his clenching fingers told me otherwise.
Anders and Isabela seemed no better. My tribe had to be looking for the Tome of Koslun. Isabela may have managed to dodge the qunari in the city for now, although not even her amazing luck could last forever. The Arishok had faced a thunder storm in order to catch her, so I couldn't think of anything he wasn't willing to risk to find the pirate captain. Losing a sacred relic must have been a greater stain of dishonor than my escape, despite my unique capability of withstanding poisonous lyrium.
I glanced at Anders and he quickly signed 'Are you okay?'
A genuine smile was my response, though I felt he wasn't convinced. Of course I was saddened by Coin's death even though we weren't close. His decision to leave the tribe and die honorably rather than live as a rebel was hard to understand, but I had no right to question him. He had used his last moments to aid a fellow Saarebas, ignoring any dispute we may have had in the past. By slaying his Arvaarad, he had also removed one of my worst enemies. My freedom would have been easily taken away with a collar and one control rod in the hands of a Saarebas handler.
The tribe was in Kirkwall and no amount of tears and stomping would change that. The whole world was unfamiliar to me and I hadn't cut my shackles to wander alone aimlessly. I had met people who I wanted to include in my life and no qunari could make me afraid enough to abandon them.
#
The night had turned the sky black by the time we reached the city. Most workers were headed to the bars and the Hanged Man to quench their thirst, having no worries of the next day's challenges a hangover might bring. A couple of children ran through the street were walked and their laughing cheered me up a little. Such innocence was a delight to my eyes after so much pain and sobriety.
Suddenly, Roghart stopped and I stayed in his shadow, concerned of what emotions I might have seen in his face. I gave Isabela a look, but she merely shrugged.
"Isabela," my brother said, "you go ahead and confront the traitorous Sister. I have to take Reneka home."
I winced, mostly because I was still unsure how to face mother after avoiding her for days. My solace was the tone in Roghart's voice. He didn't sound angry nor frustrated.
"Sure thing, Rogue," Isabela answered without protest. "Although the meeting place is right opposite your uncle's house, you know."
"This cannot wait," Roghart shot a serious leer at the pirate captain. "I have no time or interest in playing with Petrice now. Whatever she has to say, you can tell me later."
I gazed at Anders, searching for his advice and saw approval. His opinion wasn't necessary to make me believe that going home was the best course of action considering the situation. Nevertheless, I felt more comfortable knowing that he agreed.
"I'll go with her, make sure that templar guard doesn't get any ideas," Anders sighed.
"I thought templars were the bane of mages, not the other way around," Isabela smirked.
"My plan was to prevent you from dying of blood loss in case that templar decides to test how well does his blade pierce pirate flesh," Anders sneered back.
"I'm so overly assured of my safety," Isabela chuckled before turning into the direction of the building where we had met with Petrice.
Their receding backs was a more pleasant sight for me compared to the door of the house where mother was waiting. For years I had avoided making mistakes in fear of the consequences. Playing the good dog was expected from every Saarebas and the punishment was severe if the orders and the tribe's wishes weren't obeyed. I had found that out the painful way and it taught me not to ever act as brashly as I had at the Rose. The sweet sensation of owning a free will had clouded my judgment, blinding me from the effect I had caused because I hadn't cared for anyone but myself.
I still defended my decision of helping Fenris, but Roghart had been right about the mistake of my secrecy regarding the matter. We were a family again and our bond would grow stronger only by cooperating and honesty. I didn't even dare to think the rage my brother would have unleashed had I known about Coin and gone with him alone.
My small, tired feet felt heavy during every step I took up the stairs to Gamlen's home. Roghart had stains of blood on his armor and he was overly careful not to touch my white shirt, although the torn cloth around my shoulder I had healed was quite visible. The curse I muttered in my mind wasn't for the wound, but for the fact that the shirt wasn't even mine. All my clothes were borrowed from Isabela and Jethann. According to him, some of the ladies at the brothel owed him favors and they had been more than happy to repay him with such valueless material as spare clothes.
Roghart took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He glanced at me before opening the door and I could hear mother's voice even before he had entered.
"Roghart!" mother called loudly and there was a noise of a chair clattering against the floor. "Maker, look at you. What happened?"
Without answering, Roghart moved forward and revealed me from behind him. There were no words to describe the shock I witnessed on mother's face and I seriously thought about escaping rather than closing the door. Gamlen didn't seem to be present, though I felt threatened enough by facing the furious leer Carver gave at me as he rushed to us.
"What the hell, Reneka?!" he bellowed. "First you disappear Maker knows where and now you come back like this?!"
Carver obviously meant my injury, as he couldn't see that the wound had been cured. My eyes didn't wish to meet his, no matter how I fought back and tried to look at him to accept the outcome of my behavior.
"Calm down, Carver," Roghart said in a clear, sober voice. "She stayed at the Hanged Man, gathering her thoughts."
"What? Now you tell me?"
Roghart walked to the dinner table and lifted the chair my mother had knocked down when we had arrived. He snapped mother back to the reality by putting his hand on her shoulder and gesturing her to sit. "We need to talk. All of us."
"Talk?" Carver spat. "Is that how we are going to get past this mess?"
"Carver, please," mother pleaded silently, still looking at me.
"You may be able to let Reneka do whatever she likes because of what happened to her, but it doesn't change that she went way overboard! Now is not the time for her to be so imprudent!"
A chill froze my body and I ceased breathing, as if waiting to be hit. My throat was filled with a disgusting taste and I turned my gaze away, to hide both guilt and anger.
Roghart's armor clinked and his boots crunched as he marched to Carver and grabbed him from his collar, pulling our brother close to his irritated face. "For fuck's sake, Carver sit down and shut the hell up!"
An united reticence fell into the room. I swiftly took a seat across mother, at the end of the table and chewed my lower lip. The air between my brothers was dark, like a thunder cloud that was ready to strike at both of them. Roghart let Carver go and put his sword leaning against the wall beside the fireplace before sitting next to me, glaring at Carver till he followed his lead.
When he was satisfied, Roghart interlocked his fingers and let his arms rest on the cool beechwood. There wouldn't be a subtle way to reveal the current situation to mother and I observed a look on my brother's face that told me he was aware of the stalemate.
"The qunari in the city," he finally said with a pause, as if he was reconsidering. "They are the same who captured Reneka."
Mother gasped, her hand covering her mouth, and Carver's shock wasn't any lesser. Their loud, stunned responses mixed together and Roghart stopped them to prevent unnecessary clash of strong words. He eyed at them until they had calmed down, which eased me a little.
Gathering her composure, mother looked at me with distress. "Is...is this true?" she asked carefully and lowered her chin when I nodded.
"Maker..." Carver shook his head, clearly feeling uneasy and embarrassed.
"They are here and we can't change that," Roghart said. "The Arishok has stated that he won't leave, though I haven't been able to figure out his reason. Now, I haven't the slightest interest in discussing with the man. I'm pretty sure my sword-arm would react faster than my common sense."
While listening to my brother's strict voice, it made me rethink the impact his new attitude towards the qunari could have. Slavery wasn't a memory one could erase, so I was justified to damn an entire race due to personal experience if that was my choice. Roghart was going to make numerous avoidable enemies if he took the opportunity to get revenge. I would happily join him to cause misery upon the qunari, but a personal vendetta was not my goal and it shouldn't be his either.
"The main question is how this changes our situation," he continued, his body still as stiff as a preying cat's.
"Is there even doubt?" Carver puffed. "We need to leave Kirkwall without delay. These monsters are not going to get anywhere near our sister."
"And go where?" Roghart retorted. "Mother has worked hard to acquire the estate back. No Witch of the Wilds is going to take us back to Ferelden this time and Lothering is destroyed anyway."
He stood up, looking like a commander of a great army about to make the final assault, his chin high and eyes gleaming. "This is our home now. I won't put our mother through something as wearing as traveling to an alien city, because Ferelden is unreachable. Here, we will have a status that can protect our family. No matter how close those filthy animals are, I will never let them hurt Reneka again and tear us apart."
When I watched my mother's reaction, her eyes were grieving, but there was rosy color on her cheeks. Her fingers weren't curled, not like Carver's. I couldn't tell if his blood boiled due to being opposed or because he hadn't known of my whereabouts. The rank of being the little brother was a concept I couldn't comprehend and I wasn't able to recall the feelings of a sibling.
Despite my loss of proper childhood, I had connected with my relatives enough to understand how our state of affairs was influencing the way everyone looked at each other. Roghart must have stepped up after father's death and the burden of heavy decisions reflected on him. Every time events were about to escalate, he had started to blink slower, like even the most insignificant movements had to be carefully performed.
It also made me wonder how I must have seemed to everyone, with only gestures and expressions to convey my thoughts to them.
"That is how I feel," Roghart concluded his statement and sat back down. "Of course, it is only a suggestion. The decision is Reneka's."
I gazed at him, perplexed and uncertain what he meant.
"No-one can make you stay," he elaborated. "Not me, Carver or mother. Only you can choose where you want to be and with whom."
"Are you saying that we should let her leave the city alone?" Carver grunted.
"For once put yourself in her shoes, Carver," Roghart sounded displeased. "Fleeing from the Rose was an error, but her reasons weren't. I've already explained what we argued about, so you should be able to put the pieces together."
Carver actually flinched and took a short glimpse of mother before lowering his head, biting his lip and staying silent. Mother must have heard about my temporary room at the Hanged Man. It was the only way I could explain her more serene manner towards me when compared to Carver.
My deepest desire at the moment was to have the ability to properly apologize and clarify what had led me to hide like a child. I was thankful that Roghart had told my family about our fight. Pushing such affairs away would only make the shadows even darker and I enjoyed the light I hadn't had in my life for so long. Once I had tried to keep a secret that had concerned another Saarebas of my tribe. The pain, hunger and desolation it had caused weren't something I ever wanted to experience again.
Gamlen's house may not have been the nicest, but it had an unbroken roof and a fireplace to provide warmth. I could sleep on an object that was worthy of the name of a bed. The food mother cooked was beyond anything I had tasted with my highly weakened sense. Even without a tongue, I could taste the spices and the carefully prepped ingredients with every swallow. Despite Carver's permanent bad mood, I wouldn't change anything about the feel that always conquered the main room. All the laughter and bickering was sincere, factors that defined a home.
It was home. A place with a door that barred all the ugly things the world had to offer outside.
I grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen from the dinner table where mother had gathered them and wrote I'm not going anywhere, then showed it to Roghart.
My brother sighed, as if he had anticipated my answer. "You sure?" he asked and I knew he wasn't going to question again. Still, I replied with a smile.
"Very well then," he said simply and rose to his feet. "In that case, I would like to speak with you in private. We should go outside."
"Tsk," Carver let out a disappointed sound, his teeth tightly pressed together.
Following Roghart was my first reflex, but after I had turned my back to mother, the sensation of fleeing came over me once again, like our relationship would be determined of in which direction my toes were pointed at. I whipped my head and looked at my mother, scanning the features on her face that made me realize how much I had lost. Her hair wasn't gray when the qunari had captured me.
"Go on, dear," she breathed quietly, her lips arched. "I will prepare something good while you're with Roghart."
Her words didn't express it, but I felt that she was welcoming me back home, that no quarrel or the years spent apart could possibly cut the link between us all.
#
"I'm sorry about Carver," Roghart said immediately once we were outside, climbing the stairs down to the yard.
Don't be, I understand, I wrote on the sheet of paper I had remembered to grab from the table before leaving.
Roghart gazed at me for a while before walking towards the alley near the elven alienage, the place I hadn't visited since meeting Fenris there. I could still smell the blood I had been forced to spill, but it didn't ignite remorse. I only regretted my inability to foresee an ambush and without red lyrium the alienage would have become my grave.
The colors of dusk played in the sky and the daylight was dimming. Roghart's calmed aura relieved my nerves, though I doubted he had fully forgiven me. If I had learned something during my life, it was that not even time could heal all the scars. I was a walking example of such a saying.
As I let my gaze rest at the sight of flying seagulls flocking far away, Roghart stopped at the entrance of the alienage. The vhenadahl tree was visible from the upper street and I spotted an elven child playing beside it, carefully keeping a respectful distance from the holy symbol. After a while, I noticed that Roghart was watching the elf as well, with an expression I could only describe as wistful.
"The qunari are not the primary threat in Kirkwall," he stated suddenly.
I begged to differ, but I was smart enough to figure what he meant. Kirkwall was a templar city and no matter how protected I was by Roghart, no mage could escape a templar's blade if they saw even a jot of corruption in them. The shards of red lyrium weren't exactly a mitigation were I ever taken to be questioned by the order. Though for me the Arishok and his tribe boded more ill than a hundred templars would.
Roghart looked at me, waiting for my attention. The laughter of the elven child rang in my ears, but I couldn't let myself to be lulled. Ignoring the pleasant feeling with great difficulty, I stared into my brother's eyes that were bright even in the last light.
He folded his arms and leaned against the wall of a building beside him. "The templars have almost too much control over the city," he said in a low voice. "When we arrived a year ago, the city guards decided what to do with all the refugees from Ferelden, but I suspect the templars had a vote in the process as well. Anders is the only mage I've seen who hasn't succumbed to madness while living in Kirkwall. Most have resorted to blood magic in desperation and the majority of the ones we have encountered had to be put down. The rest are hiding, too afraid to show themselves."
What about mages among the refugees? I asked on the paper.
"As I said, the templars likely affected the process."
His answer was short yet sufficient. If the templars had detected mages in the groups of refugees, they wouldn't let them enter the city freely as an apostate. Such dangerous individuals would be taken to the Circle, bound to their fates like the golden statues of the slaves which had greeted me and Isabela at the city gates. The heavily-armored men all around the districts didn't exactly strike me as friendlies and I rather stayed away than took my chances at finding a few exceptions.
A shout in the alienage made me search for the source and I saw a young female elf approaching the playing child. She glared at us, clearly with dislike and shooed the boy inside the house of a open front door. I didn't need to be standing next to the woman in order to hear her call us shemlen. The way she and so many other elves shunned humans wasn't new, though I could think numerous more despicable beings than other humanoids.
As the two elves ran inside their home, I started to wonder how many of them had seen my fight with its flying splatters of blood and the screams of death.
Roghart had been staring at me for some time and all I could do was to stare back once the child had disappeared. His gaze was intense and I sensed he had an important announcement to make, but the words wouldn't come out. Just because he wished for me to be free and independent didn't mean he liked my decision.
"For you, this rotten city is the least fitting place to live," Roghart relaxed his arms and took a couple of steps back and forth. "That is why I have a proposal."
My eyes blinked as slowly as his did of curiosity and gestured him to continue.
"Me and Carver are joining an expedition to the Deep Roads supervised by Varric's brother. We've taken different jobs frequently to save the money that is needed to partner up with him. There are some unfinished business we have to take care of in Kirkwall, but the departure will be soon." Roghart faced me, his stance as firm as a king's. "I think you should come with us."
My lips parted and I couldn't look into my brother's eyes directly while coming up with an answer. Kirkwall may have been infested with templars and qunari, but they were more familiar enemies to me than the darkspawn of the Deep Roads. My tribe had encountered them, but not often. I had even killed more bears than darkspawn.
Shuddering, I recalled my thoughts during the family meeting. My home was where the people I loved were and no horned man nor a mage slayer could drive me away from them. The darkspawn were about to be added to that list.
I was compelled to ask Roghart, so I unfolded my paper and wrote Why?
"Well," Roghart began, rubbing his neck, "mother wants to buy her estate back and the treasure from the Deep Roads could help her in that. I can't deny her wish to be a proper Amell again and while money can't buy everything, it will be quite helpful in order to restore her family name. Plus Anders happens to own maps that will prevent us from walking straight into a darkspawn nest."
When I was going to clarify my question, Roghart put his hand on mine. "You're not seriously going to ask me why I want you to join the expedition?" he chuckled, looking the most stunned. "Even if it's only for a while, the trip will take you away from the qunari and the templars. I'd call that a vacation."
An awkward snicker escaped my sealed mouth and I hurried to remain solemn. Asking me to participate in a dangerous mission couldn't be easy for Roghart, but I understood his intentions. My skill of handling myself was obvious to him, but as a member of a family with a mage, he was aware of the templars' counter measures. I figured his conscience wouldn't let him leave me behind, because I would offer the same if our roles were switched. Although I didn't require his constant concern, I appreciated it and it made me feel more like a sister to him.
"Besides, it's not like we're going to fight the darkspawn alone," Roghart grinned. "Carver will be there to slice some hurlocks in half and Varric can shoot the bastards before they even smell us." He took a pause to inspect my reaction. "Anders will be there, too."
No matter how I tried to hide it, I couldn't hold back my eagerness. Roghart snorted, trying to keep laughter in and quickly turned his head, giving me time to pat the heat on my cheeks away.
Mother will oppose this idea, I wrote, behaving like nothing had happened.
"I know," Roghart said. "I will persuade her somehow."
His answer wasn't very helpful to ease my suspicions, but trust was among the most important matters we had to mend. If a man such as my brother couldn't charm one stubborn lady, then my view of him was upside down.
"I do have a condition, though," he added, raising my eyebrows in curiosity. "I'm sure you would rather not talk about it, but I have to know what exactly made you ill. Anders kept saying that you were overdosed with lyrium, but there has to be more to it, right?"
The interrogation didn't come to me as a surprise, but Roghart was calmer and his words were wrapped in honest compassion. I had dreaded the day of telling my family about red lyrium and how harmful it was on my body, fully aware that I couldn't evade the topic forever. Having discussed about it with Anders earlier made me feel more assertive however, something I had never thought possible whenever my use of red lyrium was brought to question.
It was not normal lyrium, I enlightened. The qunari of my tribe used lyrium that was red. It boosts magic but-
My pen stopped before writing that the drug could have severe consequences on the user and couldn't help but lower my gaze in shame in front of Roghart. His hand raised my chin up to meet his eyes, leaving me a bit baffled that he had reacted so fast.
"But there's a price to pay, correct?" he filled in the blanks. "That's what we witnessed at the Rose then. I have never even heard of lyrium that's red. Do the qunari alter it to change its color or something?"
No, it is mined. I believe they buy it from dwarves but I have no idea about its origins.
Roghart rubbed his unshaven beard. "That pouch Anders showed to you at the Rose," he recalled. "Did it contain this lyrium?"
It had the shards I took with me when I escaped, I wrote. There isn't much, but I can sense even small amounts of red lyrium.
"Are you carrying them around now?"
His voice had turned more stern, but not judgmental. I shook my head and tried to seem sincere.
"I'm only asking because I want to be prepared if that particular scenario will repeat itself," Roghart said. "The qunari made you use this strange lyrium, but you yourself decided to resort to it back at the alienage. Is that going to happen again?"
Each time I had to eat red lyrium evoked the scenes of destruction which should have been enough to make me toss the shards into the nearest lake, but I couldn't lie to myself or my brother. I hoped from the bottom of my heart that my instinct for survival would never force my fingers to reach for the poisonous aid again, which made me admit to myself that I was too dependent on the red lyrium's ability to solve problems with ease. Being away from it and having accompanied Roghart had been effective in adjusting my mind to the optimistic reality that I wouldn't need to touch the scarlet-colored lyrium ever again.
The graphite of my pen stained my fingers after having rolled it between them for too long. I had to be honest with my family and no amount of mulling would change that.
If I exhaust myself when using red lyrium, then I could become too tired, I chose a gentler word to indicate losing consciousness. I don't want to use it anymore. There might become another day I wouldn't have a choice, but I still wouldn't want to.
Roghart took my hand, squeezing it between his palms and eying at me like I was some princess in need of protection. "You are with your family now," he stated, his gaze unwavering. "Therefore, you will always have a choice."
My cheeks were blushing and I couldn't stop smiling. The process of mending the bridge between me and Roghart was still ongoing, but the direction had to be the correct one if it left me happy after clearing the air with him. The orders for a Saarebas were quite crude and recurrent, consisting of a single task most of a time with the assumption that the Saarebas would do anything to fulfill it, even sacrifice his own free will.
It's not how I had to operate anymore. I pulled Roghart's hands to touch my face and I leaned against them, relaying my gratitude with the gesture instead of writing it. He seemed to understand me, chuckling lightly like he was delighted of my reaction.
"So, about the business we still had to solve before the Deep Roads," Roghart brought up once I released him. "I must pay a visit to an elven clan in Sundermount. I'm thinking of leaving Carver to investigate a strange murder in Kirkwall with Varric. I've seen Fenris fight, so I'd be a fool not to have him as my backup. If Anders agrees to join, there is still room for one more mage I'd gladly take along."
Isabela's not coming? I asked with disappointment.
"After her usual 'drink till the cows fly' -ritual she performs at the end of every mission? Trust me; if a dishonest Sister doesn't leave her too bitter to fight, the amount of ale she's going to consume today will."
This time I was more than satisfied in Roghart's reply. I was reminded of the first bites of red lyrium and its effects on my unadjusted body. Forgetting the so-called hangover was even harder. No future headache and displeasure could plague me the same way the lethal drug had. Coin had warned be that the sensation would be similar to being drunk and mad at the same time, both of which were foreign experiences to the Saarebas'. A qunari mage would never live to tell the tale of how he felt after succumbing into madness.
If Isabela's hangover was going to be as vile as mine had been, I would have rather fought without her aid.