Chapter 13 – Secrets & Lies

Ceri stared at the books on the shelf without really seeing them. Some of them had titles on the spine but most didn't and without looking in each one she had no idea where to start looking for an answer to Redcliffe's zombie problem. That was assuming they even were zombies and not some strange monster she'd never heard of that just bore a striking resemblance to a zombie. She pushed the thought away. No use in borrowing trouble after all, not when a bigger problem than possible zombies was staring her in the face. Well to be entirely accurate the problem was staring at her back but that really was neither here nor there.

She hadn't missed the recognition that flared in Teagan's eyes when he first looked at her, once he'd managed to see past the grime coating her face and hair. Nor had she missed the longing that flitted across his face, no matter how quickly he marshalled his features back to an expression of friendly concern. It had confirmed the fear that had been gnawing on her mind since they'd begun the descent into Redcliffe village: here was someone who knew Ceridwen Cousland and therefore someone who would know her for a fraud. She'd hoped that Teagan would follow Alistair and Ser Sulky-Knickers when they left but he had remained stubbornly seated behind the desk. Now she could feel the weight of his gaze on her back and so she continued to stare blindly at the books, hoping he would leave her alone.

Maybe he didn't know her that well, she thought desperately. Maybe he won't want to talk.

But that wasn't really likely, not with the way he'd looked at her. It was pretty obvious that Bann Teagan wasn't just a casual acquaintance of Lady Cousland and by his expression it seemed that he was stunned to find her here in Redcliffe. He was going to want answers and Ceri just wasn't sure what to tell him. She only had the vaguest memory of the human noble origin from the game and she had no way of knowing if the story in the game bore any resemblance to the actual events of this world. The more she thought about it the more anxious she became until her hands were shaking too hard for her to grasp the book she reached for.

"I can understand why you would not want the whole village aware of your arrival," Teagan said softly, "but will you not speak with me now we are alone?"

Still she kept her face resolutely turned away, forcing herself to take deep steadying breaths as she heard the squeak of the chair legs against the stone floor. The strangest thing was that some small insane part of her actually wanted to turn round and confess. To tell this stranger exactly who and what she was, to see what his reaction would be. She had come close to telling Alistair the truth once or twice, but either the conversation had naturally turned away from the topic or she had lost her nerve and changed the subject. As the weeks passed and their friendship grew, it became easier just to ignore the problem and hope that the question of her true origin would never arise. Alistair had invented his own version of her former life, shaping the facts she had given him into a story that made sense. In his eyes her mother was a scholar attached to the household of a minor noble and Ceri was the pet of their patron's children and friends. Some days she could almost believe the story herself, listening to Alistair rattle on with his ideas of how her life had been before she'd joined the Grey Wardens. But those stories weren't going to help and she was certain Teagan would know she was lying as soon as she opened her mouth. She just couldn't lie convincingly, that was why she was letting Alistair draw his own conclusions about her rather than making something up.

"Ceridwen, please."

When his hand closed on her shoulder she flinched, jerking away from the touch as though it were scalding. She heard him swear under his breath and then he was turning her to him, lifting her chin so he could see her face clearly. Whatever he read there was enough to make him swear again.

"So that is it. You fear I will betray you, hand you over to Loghain for reward."

He sighed and brushed her hair away from her face, his eyes tightening when she flinched again under his hand.

"Have we not always been good friends, you and I? Indeed, I had once hoped for something more," he began before shaking his head as though to dismiss the idea. "It matters not. Ceridwen, please believe me when I say that I am and always will be your friend. Surely you cannot believe I would abandon you to what passes for justice in Denerim now, no matter what tales our so-called regent and his lackeys are spreading?"

He seemed sincere, just as he'd seemed genuinely glad to find Alistair safe and well. Would it be enough? Would he keep their presence a secret from anyone Loghain might send after them because he was Lady Cousland's friend and fond of Alistair? Could she go through with it? Could she pretend to be something she wasn't to keep Teagan's goodwill? It was bad enough that she was lying to Alistair about her past, even if it was a lie by omission, but at least he liked her for herself. Teagan's friendship wasn't hers to take, she hadn't earned it, didn't deserve it.

But she has taken everything of yours, a dark voice murmured in the quiet corners of her mind. Why not take what is hers and make it your own? Think of the alternative. If they discover what you are they'll turn you out, abandon you, maybe even kill you. Do you want that? How will you cope without them? How will Alistair cope without you?

Her shoulders drooped as the cold voice of fear kept railing in her mind, telling her to keep herself safe, for her sake, for his. She allowed Teagan to steer her back to the chair she'd occupied during the meeting, not meeting his eyes as he sat in Alistair's chair. She would do it. She would lie to this man who thought her his friend to save her own miserable skin.

"What happened at Highever, Ceridwen?" Teagan asked gently. "Loghain announced to the Landsmeet that your father had been charged with treason and your family executed when he would not surrender to judgement. That the teyrnir, which should now be your brother's, was forfeit and had been granted to Rendon Howe in gratitude for bringing the traitor to light."

So that much of the game was right then. Arl Howe had attacked Highever and killed Teyrn Cousland. Which probably meant the part where everyone in the castle died was true as well. If she hadn't been so caught up in her own thoughts she might have heard the sharp intake of breath outside the door, even muffled as it was by the thick wood. As it was, the sound passed unnoticed.

"A Grey Warden, Duncan, was there. He took me to Ostagar," she said, voice tight with nerves. That was true at least, whatever had become of the real Ceridwen.

"And made you join the order," he added, his tone dripping disapproval.

"He didn't make me," she faltered then stopped and thought about it properly.

She had been forced to Join, hadn't she? Duncan hadn't left her with any choice, not if she wanted to live, and no matter how fine his reasoning afterwards, however deserving the cause, he had abused his guardianship of her. Saving her life shouldn't give him the right to choose where it would be thrown away and that was what being a Warden seemed to be all about: throwing yourself headlong at every darkspawn you come across and if you survive, you get to do it all over again tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that until finally you reach a day when you just don't get up again. She shook with anger at the unfairness of it all, with all the pain and fear she had kept pushed down all this time. Duncan had known that she wasn't in any fit state to take the Joining, he'd admitted as much to Wynne. He'd known and he'd still made her go through with it. This was the source of her anger and resentment: she was a child forced into a role she wasn't meant for by the very adult who was supposed to be protecting her. The demon had known it, when she had gone rummaging around in the thoughts Ceri had desperately tried to keep locked away. It was all Duncan's fault she was cold and wet and terrified and miserable all the time and now he was gone, well out of it, while she suffered the consequences.

"It's not fair," she said bitterly.

"I agree," Teagan told her with a sympathetic smile. "But there is a bright side, my dear, if you choose to see it."

"Tell me."

"Your fellow Warden of course." He laughed at her confused expression. "Alistair will not let any harm come to you. As a child he was fascinated with tales of knights in shining armour rescuing damsels in distress. You may just be his dream come true."

"Well that explains a lot," Ceri replied. Her anger melted away at the thought of a child Alistair using a stick to attack a hay-bale 'dragon'. "He'll get plenty of damsel rescuing practice with me around. I can't even fight properly yet."

"It was a shock seeing you all geared up for war. Your mother would have a fit if she could see you now," he added, gesturing at her leathers. Then he frowned as if struck by a sudden thought. "What have you told Alistair of your family? How much does he know?"

"Not much," she said, feeling sick. "I, I couldn't."

"You do not need to explain yourself to me, my dear. Remember, I know what has been said." Teagan squeezed her hand sympathetically. "You must realise that if Fergus fell at Ostagar, you are Teyrna now. Howe will stop at nothing to ensure there are no Couslands surviving to challenge his version of events."

She shook her head, trying to force out a reply but terror strangled the words. This couldn't be happening. Bad enough that she was masquerading as something she wasn't but they couldn't make her be Teyrna of Highever, could they? Didn't being a Grey Warden mean that she couldn't be anything else? With a sudden flash of insight Ceri understood how Alistair must have felt when she'd suggested he might be king now Cailan was gone. If it wasn't enough that she had to worry about people wanting her dead because she might ruin Loghain's version of what happened at Ostagar, now someone else wanted her dead because, in theory, she knew what happened at Highever. It was too much, on top of the sleepless nights, the constant tension and death haunting her steps. Ceri's shoulders hunched and she pulled shaking hands from his grip as she tried to blink away the tears welling up once more.

I can't spend the rest of my life crying, she thought, biting down on the hysterical sobs welling up inside. For God's sake get a grip, you pathetic spineless wretch!

"Ceridwen, look at me."

His tone was stern and brooked no refusal. Reluctantly she raised her eyes to meet Teagan's and was shocked by the compassion she found there. It did nothing to help her mood though, if anything it made her feel worse. He was a good man who had the potential to be a very good friend and she was using him. The tears began to spill over as her inner voice railed against her weakness.

"None of that," Teagan said, wiping the wet streaks away with his thumb. "It is bad enough that Eleanor would be horrified to find you in armour. Do not force me to remind you what she would have to say about crying when there is work to be done."

She managed a soggy chuckle at the wry tone. Her own mother would probably have a similar reaction to both the armour and the tears. Teagan's next question took her by surprise as he tucked that same errant lock of hair back behind her ear.

"When did you last eat?"

"This morning? Maybe?" she replied, half to herself. "I can't remember. Every day is the same and the meals all run together after a while. I'm so hungry all the time now."

"Then I shall make sure someone brings you something to eat after I've found Mother Hannah's young librarian and sent her to you. I doubt I shall have to look far to find her." He gave her a rueful smile as he rose to leave. "To my knowledge Ser Perth has evicted her from the office three times today at the least. I believe that I owe her several apologies."

xoxox

Shortly after Teagan left Ceri was disturbed from her thoughts by a sharp rap on the study door. Hurrying to open it she was confronted by a sandy haired boy of about ten or so carrying a tray laden with bread, cheese and rosy red apples. He brushed past her to set his burden down on the table before turning to stare at her.

"Your face is dirty," he pointed out bluntly.

"Bevin!"

The incredulous voice that came through the door was young and female. The boy, Bevin she supposed, rolled his eyes as a girl about Ceri's age entered the room carrying a large metal jug. Lazy wisps of steam spiralled from the jug's spout and Ceri's nose twitched at the familiar sharp tangy scent that accompanied the girl's progress toward the table. Setting the jug down, the girl turned and made an apologetic curtsey to Ceri.

"You must forgive him, milady. I suspect he was dropped on his head as a babe." She scowled at the boy. "You cannot say things like that, Bevin. What would Mother say?"

"She'd say her face is dirty," the boy insisted unabashed. Turing to Ceri he continued. "It really is you know."

"Unfortunately there's not much I can do about it," she replied, feeling the blush creeping up her cheeks. "Hot water and soap don't seem to be on anyone's priority list at the moment."

"I'm sure something can be done, milady," the girl said quickly. "I'm Kaitlyn, by the way. Bann Teagan sent me to help you because I have charge of Mother Hannah's library"

"Did he apologise for not listening to you?" Ceri asked curiously.

"Yes milady," Kaitlyn said with an uncomfortable little laugh. "Bowed over my hand like I was a lady, he did."

"Please don't call me that," Ceri begged, hurrying on when Kaitlyn's eyebrows shot up. "It's making me feel very uncomfortable. My name is Ceri."

"I like it," Bevin announced with a sly glance at his sister. "It suits you. Short and kind of pretty."

"Bevin!"

It struck Ceri then that the boy must get a lot of entertainment out of baiting his sister. The unease that had dogged her since Teagan had spoken with her began to fade. This was familiar, this was safe, the banter between siblings who despite all appearances to the contrary are actually quite fond of each other. She thought of Mateo and the lengths he'd go to protecting his sister, even though most of the time he called her every name under the sun and meant it. He never failed to lend her money when she asked, complaining bitterly even as he dug into his wallet and Merrill, for all she snarked and whined, was her brother's most strident supporter when he was in trouble. It occurred to Ceri then that there was not much difference in the way Alistair and Morrigan behaved. She giggled and resolved to keep that little notion to herself, not wanting to end up frozen and burned at the same time when they both blew up at the notion of being brother and sister.

"Bevin, did you see the people I arrived with?" Ceri asked, smiling when the boy nodded eagerly. "Find the girl with red hair and ask her to give you my pack out of the wagon. If you can't find her, come back and I'll go get it myself. Whatever you do don't make the mistake of asking the dark haired girl, she'll have you for breakfast."

He nodded and raced off. Kaitlyn turned an amused look on her.

"You do realise he'll go straight for the girl you told him to leave alone?" she asked. "He's contrary like that."

"He'll regret it then," Ceri laughed. "Morrigan can't abide children. She says she only tolerates me because I'm insane and it's interesting."

"Are you? Truly?" Kaitlyn's eyes were wide at the notion.

"Insane? More than likely." Ceri turned to investigate the food as hunger got the better of good manners. Munching on an apple she continued. "Did you have any luck in persuading them to look in the books?"

"I tried a few times but not really, no," the girl admitted. "After a while there was so much to do that I gave up. I've been trying to get in here and look myself but Ser Perth keeps turfing me out. When all's said and done, I'm just the daughter of a servant. I'm sorry, milady."

"Don't apologise to me," Ceri told her, shaking her head. "It's their fault, not yours. And please stop calling me 'milady'."

Without waiting for the other girl to reply, Ceri turned back to the table to examine the jug and its steaming contents. Accepting the small pottery cup that Kaitlyn offered she poured herself a cup of the rich black liquid and sipped cautiously. It was hot, bitter and ever so slightly spicy.

"Oh dear God," she breathed taking three more sips in quick succession, no longer caring about burning her tongue. "I died didn't I?"

"Milady?" Kaitlyn asked looking worried and apparently forgetting Ceri's injunction. "Is something wrong? Bann Teagan said you would prefer coffee to tea."

"This isn't coffee, this is heaven." Ceri's eyes slid closed and she savoured the rich flavours bursting on her tongue. "Black as sin and bitter as a broken heart. You know, for the last month they kept giving me stuff to drink and all it really tastes of is rust, mud and brown. And yet they still have the nerve to call it 'tea'."

"I'm glad you like it. Would you mind if I?" Kaitlyn left the question hanging as she gestured at the pot.

"Be my guest," Ceri grinned, holding her cup out for a refill. "Help yourself to the food too."

Bevin returned quickly, bearing Ceri's pack. Rummaging inside she dragged out the spare shirt they'd picked up from one of the traders along the road. She struggled out of the leather armour, muttering her thanks as Kaitlyn began to help with the straps and laces. She laid the breastplate aside with a sigh of relief and wriggled into the shirt.

"I swear that thing gets tighter just to spite me," she complained, flicking a contemptuous hand at it. "Now, Kaitlyn, as you know these books and I don't, I think you should be in charge of this little party we're having, don't you? Where do we start?"

"Well Brother Genitivi has written reams about the supernatural," Kaitlyn began.

"And pretty much everything else," Bevin added rolling his eyes. His complaint was cut off as Ceri handed him a lump of bread and cheese. "Thanks."

"I think he would still be as good a place as any to start," his sister insisted. "Mother Hannah has a lot of his books here."

xoxox

It soon became abundantly clear that while Brother Genetivi had devoted much time to the research of the 'waking undead' covering their likely origins, characteristics and habits in loving detail, he was strangely silent on the subject of how to dispose of them. While It was interesting, fascinating even, that the presence of a demon could have a desiccating effect in a corpse and that the weaker the demon, the faster the symptoms manifested, such knowledge would be cold comfort to the defenders when the zombies attacked after sunset.

Her concentration was broken when Kaitlin abruptly began to scold her brother once more. At first Bevin had been earnest in his intention to help, however his attention soon wandered and he had spent the best part of an hour searching for horror stories. So far the erstwhile Brother Genetivi hadn't disappointed him.

"I don't care about mages and magic weapons that kill Templars," Kaitlin declared, clearly struggling to keep her temper under control. "You are supposed to be helping us to find a way to kill these monsters."

"They're not magic weapons," Bevin protested, annoyed at his sister's tone, "they're magic sucking weapons."

"I don't care!" It came out as a strangled shriek. "Magic, not magic, I don't care. Whatever they are, your stupid mage-killers won't bring Mother back."

Ceri's eyes widened. So that was the cause of the tension between the siblings and Kaitlin's desperate attempts to get someone to allow her access to the library. Even as she moved to comfort the now sobbing girl, Ceri's mind was racing. Kaitlin had said 'mage-killers', the same term Wilhelm had used in his journal. Bits and pieces of information she'd found in the journal and the workbook came together. While it was probably too late to create a weapon from Wilhelm's notes, perhaps they could devise some kind of defence for the Chantry.

"Don't cry, Kait, please," Bevin begged, awkwardly trying to hug his sister. "I'm sorry."

"Kaitlin, I think I've got an idea," Ceri said urgently. "I've got a book that mentions these mage-killer weapons & I'm certain there must be something in there about how they were made. Genetivi says that the bodies get all shrivelled because of the magic the demons use to stay on this side of the veil. If we can take that magic away, maybe they'll ping back across to the Fade."

"There are hundreds," Kaitlin replied in a watery voice, "thousands maybe. We'd never make enough weapons to defeat them."

"We don't need to." Ceri bit her lip, frowning as she worked to pull the threads of her idea together. "Those zombies only managed to knock the gate down last night right?"

"Just before sunrise," Kaitlin agreed. "That was the only thing that saved us."

"They're not very clever," Bevin added, "well, most of them anyway. Only a few tried climbing over the walls and the Templars soon took care of them."

"Morrigan told me the Templars can pull the magic out of mages," Ceri pointed out. "If we can block the gate with something that will suck the magic out of the zombies, the Templars should be able to cope with the handful that try to get over the wall."

"Where will we find this miraculous something?" Kaitlyn's shoulders drooped as the spark of hope was smothered once more.

"Come with me," Ceri instructed, heading for the door. "I've got a plan!"

They hurried through the nave and out into the courtyard beyond. The huge gate that had been lying in the middle of the open space was now leaning against the wall, leaving enough space for Bodahn's wagon to enter. The wagon was tucked away in the back corner and Ceri could see Sandal and Amalia sitting in the back, heads close together, in contemplation of something that glimmered in the shadow of the canopy. Hearing their approach Sandal glanced up and broke into his habitual happy grin.

"Enchantment," he declared, holding out the knife he'd been working on. The runes engraved on the blade seemed to pulse with dim red light that brightened as Sandal turned the knife this way and that so Ceri could view it properly. The blade was shorter than the one that she'd left with her armour but still long enough to be a servicable weapon at close quarters.

"It's beautiful Sandal," she told the beaming dwarf. "These runes look familiar. What are they meant do?"

"They're from Grandpa Wilhelm's books," Amalia supplied helpfully, "that bit where he talks about the 'mage killer' things he invented. They're supposed to take mana away from things, you see. We thought they might work on those magic darkspawn Mr Alistair told me about."

"Enchantment!" Sandal nodded emphatically and pressed the hilt of the knife into Ceri's hand. "Present."

"Thank you," Ceri smiled. "Sandal, do you think you could use these runes to make something that will stop magic creatures from getting through the gate here?"

"Enchantment?" Sandal's usual sunny demenour faded as he peered first at Ceri and then at the gate. He cocked his head and held up his hand, moving it until it blocked his view of the opening. He turned to Amalia, murmering to her in a voice too low for Ceri to hear and pausing to hear her whispered answers. After a few moments he spoke again. "Easy," he declared, smiling once more.

"Sandal says that Mr Bodahn sometimes gets him to make shield stones," Amalia explained, glancing at the young dwarf for approval. "He puts runes on them and then they put them round their camp at night to stop anything getting in. He can do the same to the gateposts, mix in Grandpa Wilhelm's runes and it'll make a shield across the gate that'll suck the mana out of things."

"Enchantment," Sandal said with a sad shake of his head.

"Oh yes, sorry. Sandal says the runes won't last too long," Amalia added hurriedly. "He's got to rush it you see, so they'll wear out after half a day or so. Maybe faster if they're actually working."

"It could still mean the difference between suriving or being taken by those creatures," Kaitlyn said. "We should tell Bann Teagan and Ser Perth of this plan, quickly."

"We need a way of putting it up and taking it down though," Ceri warned. "Can you put the runes on something that can be hammered into the gateposts when the time comes?"

"Easy," Sandal repeated, pointing at the top of the gate. "Enchantment."

"We can use some of the metal spikes Mr Bodahn uses for traps," Amalia chirped, rummaging in the back of the wagon. She held up a handful of sharpened metal rods about the length of her forearm. "You can put the top ones in first and then the bottom ones can be put in at the last minute."

"Brilliant idea," Ceri praised the smiling girl. "We can pull everyone back into the Chantry and the Templars can take care of anything trying to get over the walls. Let's go find Teagan and Alistair, Kait. Things are looking up."

As though her words had summoned him, Ceri saw her fellow warden emerge from the Chantry. He was moving briskly but his steps faltered when he saw her. To her surprise his shoulders stiffened and his face set in an expression of sullen anger as he stalked past them, heading for the ruined gates.

"Alistair?" Ceri called weakly, shrinking from the smouldering burn coming to her through their shared taint. She approached him, wary of the snapping fury in his eyes. "What's wrong? Is it Morrigan again?"

"Morrigan?" His bitter laugh cut into her like ice. "At least she tells the truth, even if she is a bitch about it."

"Please, I don't understand. What's wrong? What have I done?" Panic began to take hold of her as she felt the world begin to tilt beneath her feet once more. She'd never seen him so angry, not in Honnleath, not even when Morrigan took her temper out on him.

"Oh, she doesn't understand," he sneered. "Let me make myself clear, Lady Cousland, I don't like being made a fool of."

Ceri's heart clenched at the sound of her assumed name. Her throat worked but no words came out as panic gripped her in earnest. His eyes were scathing as they raked her shaking form.

"What's this? Nothing to say? No clever comments? I am surprised. If you will excuse me Lady Cousland, I have work to do."

She was stung into action as he turned away from her.

"Wait!" Her voice was shrill as she tried to make him listen. "We know how to stop the zombies. We've got a plan. You don't need to go out there."

"Really," he replied in a flat voice. "Well then I suggest you share it with Teagan, since you're such good friends. I'm not interested."

The sheer volume of venom and fury, both in his voice and coming to her through the taint, hit her like a physical blow. Her throat closed and she could only watch as he stalked away. That was it then. He hated her. When they'd come out of the Wilds she'd expected it, would have welcomed his anger, feeling the burden of her guilt as she had. But now, a month or more later, she was coming to terms with the events of Ostagar and Alistair's friendship had come to mean more to her than anything. He protected her, as Mateo had professed to but without that unbearable smothering brutality that came with everything Mateo did.

Should've told him, the spiteful voice sing-songed in her head. You made it wo-rse.

She had. In her fear of him finding out that she wasn't the girl from Highever, not even from this world at all, it had never occurred to her what might happen if he found out exactly who Ceridwen Cousland was. He thought she'd been lying to hurt him or because she didn't trust him. And now he hated her.

Kaitlyn's mouth was moving but no sound came to Ceri's dulled senses, as she drowned in the cold certainty that she was now entirely alone and had no-one to blame for it but herself. The older girl wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling Ceri away from the staring eyes and whispering voices back into the incense rich darkness of the Chantry. She saw concern on Teagan's face at sight of her, concern that shifted to disbelief and then anger. He said something to Kaitlyn as he hurried toward the main door and the girl tugged on Ceri's arm, towing her along back to Mother Hannah's office. It occurred to Ceri as she dropped into a chair that for once her eyes were dry. Apparently some things were too bad for tears.

A/N - Hello? I don't know if anyone out there is still interested in this but for anyone who was reading before I'm really sorry it's taken so long to get a new chapter up. In the last 18 months I've changed jobs twice, gone into therapy (that was fun - not!) & spent a lot of time stressing about how to be a good girlfriend & stepmum (both of which I've never done before & despite my wonderful boyfriend's assurances I'm still convinced I'm not very good at either).

I made the mistake of leaving my copy of Dragon Age at his house & now my stepdaughter is completely obsessed with it (to the point where every other sentance that comes out of her mouth starts with "About Dragon Age..."). But it has at least given me the inspiration to finish this chapter & start the next one - hopefully I'll be able to keep going with it now things are settling down. So here's the next installment of Ceri's story - hope you enjoy xx