Origins

11. The Fight

Kai looked around as the shemlen man led her group down into the village. There were more townspeople, down here, and they had set up barricades around one building - the Chantry, she realised. It was into this building that their guide led them. Inside, women and the elderly conversed in quiet whispers while a priestess led a group of children in prayer. At the far end of the hall a man armed with a sword and wearing thick leather armour was instructing another man in the defences of the town.

"Bann Teagan," said their guide. The armed man turned his attention to their group and ran an assessing eye over them. "These people came from the Imperial Road, Bann Teagan."

"Thank you... Tomas, isn't it? You can return to the bridge whilst I speak to them. Good work."

"I remember you, Bann Teagan," said Alistair, taking a step forward. "Though last time we met I was a small boy... and covered in mud."

"Alistair?" said the Bann. "By Andraste's mercy, I thought you had been killed at Ostagar with the other Grey Wardens. I am glad to see you well."

"Then you do not believe Loghain's lies about the Grey Wardens betraying the King?" Kai asked, wanting to ascertain his allegiances before dealing with him.

"No. I was in Denerim when Loghain arrived back from Ostagar. He's declared himself Queen Anora's regent. I believe he's gone mad. I came here straight away, to inform Eamon, only to find... well, things are dire."

"What exactly has been going on, Bann Teagan?" Alistair asked. "We heard from Ser Donall in Lothering that Arl Eamon has fallen ill, but he mentioned nothing of monsters."

"This is a somewhat more recent development. Each night, hordes of undead descend from the Castle and attack the village. Nobody at the Castle acknowledges my hails... I don't even know if there's anybody left up there."

"Ah, the undead," said Morrigan knowingly. "No doubt some sort of necromantic arts at work."

"What of the knights?" asked Alistair.

"Ser Perth has returned, along with a few others. He is leading them in the defences. But I don't know how much longer we can last. Alistair, I hate to ask this of you, but we desperately need your help tonight. Darkness is only a few hours away, and we have to fortify the Chantry before then. This is where Ser Perth has put all those who can not fight. We have to defend them at all costs."

"It's not... entirely... my call, Bann Teagan," Alistair said cautiously.

"We will help," Kai reassured the Bann. "The undead are an abomination to my people as well. We abhor them, and fight them when we can."

"Thank you. I've put the mayor in charge of the defences outside. You can speak to him about anything that needs doing. Or maybe Ser Perth could use your help. Either way, I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"Why didn't you evacuate the town when all of this trouble started?" Leliana asked.

"These people have nowhere to go. Between the Darkspawn on the move and Teyrn Loghain's men harassing the Bannorn into compliance, it would be almost as dangerous for them to go as to stay. The only place we might have evacuated to is the Castle, but that's where all the trouble is coming from."

"Amongst the Qunari, even the women and children would pick up a weapon to defend themselves," Sten said stonily.

"And it may yet come to that. But I would prefer to keep the fighting as far from the Chantry as possible."

"We should act swiftly," said Kai, stroking the hilt of her Dar'Misaan. "If these creatures come with the night, we must be ready before then."

o - o - o - o - o

"Have you ever fought the undead before?" Leliana asked Kai as they worked together to strengthen a barricade.

"Yes, once. They were infesting old ruins near a place where my people had erected their aravels."

"Do your people believe as we do, that the undead are caused by spirits from the Fade passing through to this world in places where the Veil has thinned, and taken control of bodies?"

"Yes, although we call the Fade 'the Beyond', and some can enter it at will, remaining conscious of their actions while there."

"Really? How do they do that?"

"Some of the Keepers have mastered their own minds to the point where they can enter the Beyond and keep their awareness of themselves. There are also combinations of herbs which can be used by one undertaking a vision quest, which give the same results."

"What is it like, in the Fade?"

"It is said to be a place where the edges between what is real and what is not are blurred, so that the two become almost indistinguishable. A place of beauty, formed by the imaginations of those who dream within it. But also a place of terrible peril, where nightmares stalk the unwary, and men trap themselves within cages of their own fear. It is not a place where most people would willingly enter."

"I've heard stories told by magi about the Fade and the spirits that exist within it," said Leliana, a far-away look in her eyes. "They say that spirits both dead and unborn live there, preyed upon by demons who want nothing more than to live, experiencing life through the senses of a mortal. Whenever a babe is born there's a risk that one of those demons will latch on to a departing soul, inhabiting the body of the child and corrupting its spirit. Conversely, when a person dies, their spirit returns to the Fade and the Veil is temporarily weakened around their body. Another spirit or a demon can sneak through and take control of the body... or even a nearby person or beast. It's said that the funereal custom of burning the dead came about after an influx of spirits breaking through the Veil. Now, any that break through don't have a body to live in for long."

"My people do not burn our dead. We bury them."

"Oh? What is the reason behind that, might I ask?"

"The land gives us life. When we die, we are returned to it, so that the cycle of life is complete."

"I like that idea. I suppose in a way it's comforting to think that the person you have lost might still be around you, connected to you through the land."

"Have you ever fought the undead before?"

"No, I grew up mostly in cities... you don't get many undead there."

"What is it like, in Orlais? Is it much like Ferelden?"

"Oh no, it is much different! By comparison, Ferelden is wild and untamed. And cold - quite a bit colder than Orlais, especially in winter. Orlesian weather is much milder. And the cities are beautiful, especially Val Royeaux. There is so much music and light. The architecture is beautiful, elegant and fine, not all blocky and defensive, like it is here in Ferelden. What are the Dales like?"

"Very... forested. Human settlements are few and far between... they tend to live only on the edges of the Dales. My people do not build towns and cities. We live nomadically in our aravels. When danger comes we prefer to melt into the shadows, to be hidden by the forests, though we will fight if pushed. I think this barrier is as sturdy as it's ever going to be. I am going to find Sten. Please help Morrigan to reinforce the rest of the defences."

Without waiting for a response she wandered towards the houses on the docks, her head swivelling from side to side like a seagull looking for limpets. After speaking to the Mayor she had sent both Alistair and Sten to survey the village and assess its defensibility. Alistair's impressions were important because this was the town where he had grown up and his knowledge of it might prove useful during the battle. Sten, she knew, had plenty of combat experience, though he claimed that no two battlefields were the same. Still, as a veteran warrior, his insight could prove invaluable. Especially since he saw with the eyes of a stranger, and might miss things that she and Alistair could overlook.

When she caught sight of Sten exiting a house, she lengthened her pace. The gods only knew what he had been doing in there... she hoped he hadn't slaughtered anybody else.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"The mayor mentioned a dwarf who was well-versed in combat but would not fight. I have just convinced him to join the battle."

"Does he now require medical attention?" she asked sceptically.

"The only thing wounded is his pride."

"I am glad to hear it. What is your opinion of the defences?"

"They would not halt an army of my people... though they may slow the undead, providing they come only from the Castle, and not from, say, the sea."

"Can you make any further recommendations?"

"Other than arming the women and children so that they may defend themselves, no."

"Thank you. Have you seen Alistair?"

"He spoke with the blacksmith, then went back up the hill to speak to the knights."

"Will you return to the mayor and continue with the barricades?"

"If I must."

As she ascended the steps to the windmill where the knights were planning their own tactics, sounds from the town rose to her ears; the mayor issuing orders, people fixing the wooden barricades, the ring of a hammer on an anvil as the blacksmith began his work. Redcliffe was much livelier than when she had arrived.

Outside the windmill that slowly turned under the power of the falling river, Alistair and Ser Perth were deep in conversation. The rest of the knights were milling around, eating what would no doubt be, for some of them, the last meal they ever ate. When Alistair caught sight of her he waved to her, gesturing for her to join him in conversation with the knight.

"I was just telling Ser Perth about some barrels of oil that I found in one of the stores. He thinks we can use the oil against the undead," he said.

"I wish I'd known about it last night," said Ser Perth. "It might have saved a few lives."

"Tell her what you told me, about the Arlessa."

"It's just rumour, most likely nothing to it," said Ser Perth hesitantly. "Arlessa Isolde had hired a mage to tutor her son, Connor. A few gossips claimed they were having an affair, and that the Arlessa poisoned her husband so she could be with the man she hired. Like I said, most likely unfounded gossip."

"What is your opinion, Ser Perth?" she asked.

"I don't know. The Arlessa was worried sick about Arl Eamon... that's why she sent us on our quest to fine the Urn of Sacred Ashes. She's a very devout woman, the Arlessa. The mage had only been there a few days before the Arl became ill. I never saw them behaving... inappropriately, if that's what you mean."

"We must focus on one challenge at a time," she said, turning to look at the castle sitting ominously over the village, like an owl ready to swoop down on an unsuspecting mouse. Well, the owl was about to discover that the mouse was prepared; and it had weapons to fight back. "We will turn our attention to Redcliffe Castle when we have made it through the night."

"I hope we do," said Perth doubtfully.

"I will not insult you by telling you that all will be well. You have fought these things before and you have seen them kill. But you have also survived thus far; there is no reason to doubt that you will not survive another night. The smith is repairing the armour of the militia. You have oil to employ as a weapon against your foe. The durgen'len warrior, Dwyn, has agreed to fight by your side. And now you have Grey Wardens to aid you as well."

"Yes, of course. I should count my blessings. Our position is much more favourable now than it was last night."

"Alistair, we should return to the mayor to continue working on the defences of the village."

She made her way slowly down the steps, her cloak brushing the top of each step as she descended. What would her people think if they could see her now, wandering amongst the shems, fighting to protect them? Would they think she was crazy, afflicted by some illness, or would they be proud of her actions?

Though she knew she would always be Dalish, she was slowly coming to think of herself as something else. Something more than Dalish. She was a Grey Warden now, and that meant defending the land against the Blight. It meant forming allegiances and making allies. It was something her people had never been good at.

The Dalish were reclusive by nature, preferring to avoid contact with outsiders. The events of her life hadn't really prepared her that well for her current task. She struggled to understand humans, to make sense of their words and their actions. Upon meeting another Dalish she would know immediately that she could claim some sort of kinship with him. Two Dalish had much in common; they were borne of the same ancestors, they lived to protect their way of life, they travelled to search for their lost history. They understood each other's hardships and customs. Humans, on the other hand, were just so... different.

She was beginning to realise that if she was going to have to unite the humans of Ferelden with the elves and the dwarves, she would have to learn something about them. She would have to discover their customs, their ways. She would have to understand their words and the reasoning behind their actions. Already she had three human companions she could learn much from... though perhaps it was best not to include Morrigan under the label of 'human'.

But what if learning about humans meant becoming more like them? What if it caused her to lose sight of who she was? What if it made her less Dalish? Losing her sense of identity was the last thing that she wanted... yet was she willing to give up who she was if it increased her chances of defeating the Blight? She had already given her life to the Grey Wardens... was she ready to give her self?

"What is your assessment of the village defences?" she asked Alistair, trying to put her thoughts aside to concentrate on more important matters.

"They're about as secure as they can be, given the circumstances. Everyone who's able will be fighting, and everybody who isn't able will be in the Chantry with Bann Teagan. I'd feel better with another dozen knights at our back, but if wishes were horses I'd have a cavalary."

"If wishes were horses... that is a human expression, isn't it?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," she said, and continued down the path in thoughtful silence.

Back in the town centre, work was well underway. The barriers around the Chantry had been fortified and two knights were pouring oil into smaller buckets that could be used to dip arrows into. Several torches had been positioned around the defences to give the defenders light to see by, and the militia were lined up outside the smithy as from inside the sound of a hammer could be heard ringing against an anvil.

"We will fight with the knights, to stem the flow of undead coming from the Castle at the top of the path," she told her companions as they gathered around her. "Until then, do whatever you think needs to be done. We will meet up on the path below the windmill. And, if the gods are smiling upon us, we will see the morning sun."

o - o - o - o - o

Kai looked up at the stars twinkling in the deep blackness of the night sky. The grey fog of the morning had eventually given way to clearer weather, and now the air was crisp, biting at her flesh. Anticipating combat she had doffed her cloak, knowing that it would only hinder her in battle. As she stood, waiting, she made a point of not moving closer to one of the small fires.

"What do you think they are?" Leliana asked, following her gaze to the sky above.

"Stars."

"Yes, of course. But what I mean is... what do you think they really are?"

"I do not know, nor do I see why it matters. They are up there and I am down here. They do not affect me; they do nothing but sit in the sky twinkling. Knowing what they are makes no difference to my life, unless they wish to come down and help me against the Blight." Leliana looked saddened by her reply, and Kai recalled her earlier musings about understanding humans better. Perhaps this was a good place to start. "What do you think they are?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know. I have heard a story about stars, though."

"Tell me this story. Please," she added, recalling that humans liked pleasantries.

"There was once a beautiful woman called Alindra who cared for nobody but herself. Her father introduced her to many rich and handsome nobles, begging her to choose a suitor from amongst them. But she declined, because she did not love them.

"One morning she sat singing beside her bedroom window, and was spied by a soldier passing by. The moment he heard her beautiful voice he fell in love with her instantly, and she fell in love with him. She told her father of her desire to marry, but he was furious; the soldier was a commoner, not noble-born. As punishment, he locked her high within a tower so that they could never see each other.

"Eventually, word reached her that her beloved had died, and Alindra was heartbroken. She begged the gods for help, and so moved were they by her speech that they lifted her up into the sky, turning her into a beautiful star. They took the soul of her love, too, and carried him into the sky, placing him within the same constellation. They say that the small band of stars between the two are Alindra's tears, and when she has cried enough she will be reunited with her lover."

"You believe that the stars are actually people, taken into the sky by one or more gods?"

"It's just one possibility, isn't it? If mages of the Tevinter could enter the Maker's Golden City, then why shouldn't it be possible that stars are the souls of people, cast eternally into the sky by gods?"

"I see movement, Warden," said Ser Perth. He pointed to the castle above the town. Kai narrowed her eyes against the cold breeze, and saw fog rolling down from the front door of the castle. Vague forms were moving inside it, picking up speed as they descended towards the defences.

Calmly, because a warrior could not allow fear to creep into her heart, she put two oil-dipped arrows onto her bow, then passed them in front of the nearby fire. They caught alight, blazing merrily on her bow as she waited for her enemy to come within her sight. Two arrows were far less accurate than one, but she did not need accuracy; the knights had drenched the path with oil, which would spring up as a wall of fire once alight. Two of the knights had bows of their own, and Leliana had given her crossbow bolts the same treatment as the arrows. Everybody else, save Morrigan, had their swords in hand, ready to engage anything that made it through the fire.

When the first shambling form appeared, Kai let her arrows fly. They both reached their target, and a wall of fire erupted across the breadth of the road. Whether the undead creatures didn't care about the fire, or whether they simply didn't realise it was there, she did not know, but they came on regardless, passing through the fire with their skin - what little of it was left - alight.

She had only fought the undead once before, with Tamlen. This time there were far more of them, but she also had more allies. Sten and Alistair, along with Ser Perth and a couple of his knights, bore the brunt of the assault; Alistair and the knights effectively using their shields as a second weapon to knock over their opponents, while Sten merely swung his large two-handed sword in an arc, cleaving anything that tried to pass. In the thick of the fighting, Da'len was growling and biting his enemies, dragging them to the floor and mauling them.

Beside Kai, the other knights were firing arrows at undead enemies further up the path, well away from the fighters. Their bows were longer and heavier than hers; they took longer to draw, but had more power, a trade-off that may have worked in their favour against armoured opponents but did little against creatures that felt no pain. Not that her own attacks were much more effective. Though she was able to get off more shots than the knights, and her accuracy was better, the undead barely seemed to notice the arrows bristling from their bodies. Nor did they pay any attention to the occasional bolts that Leliana shot into them with her light crossbow. This would, Kai was quickly coming to realise, end in an all-out melee fight.

Before long the defenders were swamped with attackers. Sten's sword became less effective as they move inside his defences. The knights began using their shields defensively more often than they did offensively. Though Morrigan let bolts of magical energy fly from her fingertips, they seemed to do little except irritate then creatures. No doubt any more powerful spell would only risk harming the fighters.

When the first zombie or skeleton - she didn't really know the difference - single-mindedly broke through the defences and continued on the path towards the town, Kai put down her bow and drew her weapons, her Dar'Misaan - always a 'he' - sliding effortlessly from the sheath on her left hip into her right hand, whilst the smaller, feminine Dar'Misu - the companion blade - she held softly in her left.

It was a fault amongst newer fighters to grip their weapons too tightly, as if afraid they might fly out of their hands. A tight grip might work for an axe or a broadsword, which needed to be powerfully swung to cause maximum damage, but her single-edged blades were light and sharp, designed for slicing rather than chopping. They caused the most damage when used with applied pressure; the touch on the weapons needed to be soft and slow whilst moving, only firming and speeding up on the cut itself.

The zombie seemed not to see her, at first. It was only when she stepped directly into its path that she caught its attention. The hand-axe it carried was raised above its head long before it reached her, and she brought her Dar'Misaan up along a diagonal line, slicing across the creature's body. When the next skeleton followed she parried the attack from its sword, allowing her blade to swing over her shoulder, then brought it down along the same diagonal line that it had gone up, her cut entering the creature's body at its collarbone and leaving beneath its floating ribs.

Leliana and the knights had also drawn their hand-weapons, and were engaging enemies of their own. Risking a glance at the castle, she noted that the flow of undead leaving it had stopped; now they were contained entirely within the small pass which was quickly becoming a grim scene of fiery death.

One of the knights fell, an axe buried deep in his neck. Three zombies ran past his falling corpse, their sights set on Redcliffe town. Moving to intercept them, Kai sliced through the weapon-hand arm of one of her foes, and it fell to the floor. The second she gutted with her Dar'Misu as she pulled her Dar'Misaan around for a killing blow. But the third undead fiend was faster than its two companions had been; it brought its sword in a low arc, aiming for her stomach. Seeing the impending attack just in time to dodge it, she stepped back, and tripped over the body of the first corpse she had killed. She fell backwards and hit the ground sharply, the wind knocked from her lungs. Her attacker raised it sword above her chest, its face and eyes empty, not even enjoying the kill. As it swung its weapon down towards her heart, a large, snarling bundle of grey fur leapt from behind her, knocking the zombie to the floor with the weight and momentum of its body.

Gasping for breath, Kai pushed herself to her feet and turned her attention to the undead creature she had gutted but not killed; the obstacle blocking it removed, it had resumed its journey toward the village. She set out at a sprint and beheaded it from behind, then kicked it to the floor to ensure it would never take another step. When she turned back, she found the heated battle finally beginning to cool. There were only a few undead left, and these the knights finished off, angered to almost a frenzy by the loss of their fallen comrade.

She had not realised, during her adrenaline-fuelled sprint, that she had twisted her ankle as she had fallen, and she had to limp back up the path, walking around the bodies that littered the floor. When she reached the wolf that had just finished mauling her almost-killer, it turned and trotted to her, rubbing its shoulders cat-like against her legs.

"Thank you, my friend," she said gratefully, stroking the broad tawny head.

"Your ah... wolf... is very large," said Leliana, watching the wild canine warily. The wolf whined.

"Yes, you may go," she said, and it slunk into the shadows, disappearing into the trees that marked the edge of the forest.

"I take it that's Ar'la," said Alistair. He, like the others, was soaked in foul-smelling blood.

"And here you were afraid that the only other Grey Warden in Ferelden might have a friend other than you," said Morrigan.

"How is your ankle? Does it hurt?" Leliana asked. Kai experimentally put her foot down, shifting some of her weight to it.

"A little, but I do not think it is sprained."

"Warden!" called a panicked voice from further down the path. In the moonlight she made out the shape of one of Redcliffe's defenders. "Warden, there are undead in the town!"

"Stay here and guard this path," she instructed Ser Perth, turning away from him before he could object. "Everybody else... get down to the town as fast as you can. We have to keep our foe from reaching the Chantry."

o - o - o - o - o

The night was still, the air thick with smoke from the fires. Bodies littered the floor, both outside the wooden palisade and inside it. Their attackers had come in waves, wearing them down gradually over the course of the night. Casualties had been taken by the townsfolk, and there had been three fatalities. The bodies of three militiamen were somewhere in the heap of undead corpses.

Kai was sitting on an upturned wooden crate, leaning against Da'len for warmth. Leliana was applying a bandage to her ankle; although she had switched to using her bow again, to keep as much weight off her foot as possible, it still didn't feel entirely right. Just behind the palisade, behind the line of bodies, the mayor of the village paced up and down. Sten and Alistair were standing alert at either end of the wooden barrier, and Kai wondered why they weren't tired. She herself was exhausted. Though fighting was nothing new to her, fighting for an entire night against an enemy that never tired or slowed had slowly worn down her energy reserves. Now, it was all she could do to keep her eyes open.

"You haven't been a Grey Warden long, have you?" Leliana asked. She kept her voice quiet, as if afraid to be heard... by the undead or by the defenders, Kai did not know.

"Only a few days. Does it show?"

"Not so much, though it is obvious that you are uncomfortable around humans."

"Really? I thought I was doing well. I have not had to kill anybody yet."

"Is that... a joke ?" the young woman asked sceptically.

"Of course. I am a Grey Warden now. I cannot just go around slaying shemlens. Not without a very good reason, anyway. I am sure that questions would be raised."

"Maybe you should not mention killing humans so much. It might make your task much easier."

"But if I am forced to kill them, they could say that I never warned them."

"Well, they could... but they'd be dead. They probably won't say much of anything after that. Why do you talk so casually about inflicting harm on humans? Do your people speak this way with each other?"

"No, of course not. I have no need to threaten or warn another Dalish that their behaviour is inappropriate or a potential risk to their continued wellbeing."

"So why do you feel that humans need to be threatened?"

"If you approach a dog and it growls at you, raising its hackles and baring its teeth, would you continue walking towards it, would you reach out your hand to stroke it?"

"No, of course not. That is a dog's way of warning you to stop."

"There is your answer."

"But we are not dogs, neither your people nor mine. Surely we don't need to resort to posturing and threatening?"

Kai merely looked at the woman. Clearly she was quite mad. Leliana saw through a bard's eyes; she was an idealist and a romanticist. Obviously, the thought of the Dalish, living wild and free, master to none, had caught her imagination, but she knew nothing of the price of living such a life. She knew nothing of the hardships, of the endurance required, of the hostility many of her people encountered from shems when they stayed in one place for too long.

"Well, I've bandaged your ankle... hopefully it will provide a little more support," said Leliana.

"Thank you."

"Do you think we'll be seeing any more fighting tonight?"

"No. Dawn approaches."

"How can you tell?"

"The air smells different, just before the sunrise. Fresher, as if bringing a new wind for the new day."

"If it blows away the stench of these corpses it will be more than welcome," said Morrigan, looking down her nose at the dead bodies.

"I wonder who they were," Leliana mused. "Did they come from the castle? Were they the staff there? Or have they come from elsewhere and been drawn to the castle by some malevolent force?"

At that moment the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon and the sky began to lighten from black to dark blue. But there were no birds to sing out, to greet the dawn with their chorus, no crickets to chirp in the morning light. It was as if the town itself was as dead as the corpses that littered the ground.

"Can you do nothing to heal the injured?" Kai asked Morrigan. Almost everybody who had taken part in the defence of the town had received an injury; her own twisted ankle was one of the least serious of the lot.

"I could offer potions, but I don't have nearly enough to go around."

"The Keepers of our clans are good healers."

"I am not a healer of your clan. Doubtless my mother intended to teach me her healing magic at some point, but as you know, more important business has cropped up."

"Grey Wardens!"

Kai turned her head and saw Bann Teagan leave the Chantry with the senior priestess behind him. His sword, belted at his hip, was the only weapon in the town square without blood on it.

"Is something wrong, Bann Teagan?" she asked.

"No. Thanks to you, nothing is wrong. You've saved Redcliffe and its people."

"Not all were saved." She gestured at the dead townsmen.

"Had you not been here, we all would surely have perished. But I can see that you have better things to be doing that listening to me waffle on about how grateful we all are. Come. We have survived. Let me help you into the Chantry... a cup of warm tea awaits you."

o - o - o - o - o

Ferelden was too cold. How could people live like this, day after day? And not only was it cold, it also smelled of wet dog. The scent permeated the air, assaulting the olfactory senses of anybody not born to this rugged land. In some ways, Denerim was better than the rest of Ferelden; it was warmer, because there were more houses and more people, and therefore more fires and more warmth. But it also smelt worse than the rest of Ferelden. It smelt of too many people living too close together. It smelt of foul drains and stale food and rat piss.

"Hey, you!" called a guard, his face angry as he lowered his pike. "You should be in the Alienage, with the rest of your kind."

"You are mistaken, my good man," said Zevran, suppressing a sigh. This was the third time today he had been stopped by guards who clearly had nothing better to do with their time than harass down-trodden elves. You'd think with all this talk of Blights and dead kings and warring Bannorns, the guards wouldn't have this much free time on their hands.

"I'm not your good man, and I sincerely doubt that I'm mistaken."

"Then perhaps this might change your mind," he said, reaching into his inside pocket. The guard watched him cautiously, as if expecting him to brandish a weapon. Instead, he took out a piece of vellum, handing it over when prompted. "If you need help with some of the polysyllabic words I will be happy to assist," he offered when the guard frowned at the words.

"Shut it, you. I can read," the man glared. "Ahem. 'I... hereby... grant the bearer of this miss... missive... the right of passing...'"

"Passage," Zevran corrected.

"'The right of passage through Denerim. I order you... do not im... impede... his movements. Signed... Howe, Arl of Highever and Denerim'. Well now, this is a pretty little letter, isn't it? And how do I know it's not a fake."

"I'm on my way to the Palace to meet Arl Howe right now. Why don't you accompany me, and then you can ask him yourself?"

"Uh... I can't. I uh... I have to guard this gate," said the man nervously.

"Yes, the Maker forbid that the downtrodden, unarmed, starved elves suddenly try to beat their way through the gate with their bare fists," he said wryly. The guard narrowed his eyes.

"That sounded like sympathizing."

"I can assure you, it was not. I was merely pointing out the reality of the situation."

"Hmph. Well, get on with you, before I change your mind and decide to throw you in there for being too damned cheeky."

Zevran gave the man a bow, then continued on his way. He passed market stalls, wells, dogs, children, guards, houses... blah blah blah. It was pretty much the same, wherever you went. You had the well-to-do sitting high on their thrones, and everybody else running around trying to become the very people they hated. Why was nobody ever happy with their lot in life? Why were farmers never happy to be farmers? Why were merchants never content with making a modest living? Why were Grey Wardens dabbling in politics?

Arl Howe had already apprised him of the two he was to... 'handle'. One, the least of his concern, was a Dalish elf; a young woman possessed of grace and skill, but apparently overwhelmed with the demands heaped on her by the Grey Wardens. The other was a man who both Howe and Teyrn Loghain feared; a man who had gotten it into his head that he was the bastard son of the late King Meric. Quite obviously delusional, Howe had informed him, and quite obviously a threat to Teyrn Loghain... and to Queen Anora, of course. The Queen had simply been an afterthought on the Arl's behalf.

Zevran did not care for politics. He didn't care for Kings, Queens, Teyrns or Blights. All he cared about was getting this job done then he could return to Antiva. Antiva, with its warm clime, its fine wines and its eager and willing whores. Ah, how he missed Antiva.

Eventually he ended up at the Royal Palace - if you could even give this monstrosity of grey stone and harsh marble that title - and was met by Arl Howe and no less than five of his personal guards. Zevran almost smiled. Obviously Howe had heard of the Crows' reputation. No doubt he didn't want to take any chances, just in case somebody had offered him more money to betray his 'benefactor'.

"You're early," said Howe, affecting an unimpressed tone of voice.

"If you prefer, I could leave and come back in ten minutes. I'm sure there is much you could do in that time. A comely young wench, for example."

"I thought the Crows were professionals. That they possessed... decorum."

"Not all of us," Zevran smiled.

"Well, not that you're here I suppose we should get this over with. As I told you before, let me do all the talking, don't say a word, and you'll be walking out of this meeting a rich man, with the good will of the future King of Ferelden on your side."

Zevran merely smiled again. Howe seemed to think that because he was a hired killer, he was a simpleton. In Antiva, Howe would have been robbed and killed within five minutes of entering the city. The little man thought that he was a dab hand at politics, but these Fereldens were mere children compared to Antivans, and even Orlesians.

He was led by How through the Palace, and the guards were dismissed outside a large, ornate door. Howe knocked and then entered, and Zevran followed him inside. At the far end of the room, looking out of the window that granted a view of the city, stood a man. A tall, dark-haired man who held a wine goblet in one hand. Though the man was armoured, his sword was lying at its ease on a table. Clearly this man felt comfortable being unarmed in the Palace. Well, they were like children...

"My Lord, I come with news," said Arl Howe, bowing. The man, Loghain, did not even turn around. "Lothering has fallen, my Lord. It has been over-run by Darkspawn. Many people escaped, but the commander of the templars, along with many of his soldiers, was killed in the attack. And... there is more."

"More?" said the man, his voice weary.

"The two Grey Wardens we enquired about... they were seen leaving Lothering a day or two before the attack. Were they were heading I do not know, but the longer they remain alive, the bigger the problem they will become." Loghain was silent, and Zevran wondered if he had truly heard Howe's words. Regardless, the Arl ploughed on. "I have arranged for... assistance." Then, Howe gestured for him to step forward.

"The Antivan Crows send their regard," he said, giving a small bow to the man's back. It never hurt to bow before royalty. Or those who thought they were.

"Assassins?" said Loghain, disgust in his voice.

"They are the best, and we will need the best to deal with the threat that these Grey Wardens pose," said Howe.

"Fine. Just get it done," said Loghain. Arl Howe bowed, and ushered Zevran from the room. Outside, his guards took up their alert poses.

"I will have the money sent to your organisation immediately," said Howe. "And I look forward to hearing of your success."

With a grin, Zevran bowed. He wouldn't see any of the money from this mission now, of course. But when he returned home, he would have many evenings of freedom and pleasure to look forward to.