The muddy dirt road turned into a stone one, raised up above the ground, like a bridge, except not over water. Old dwarven ruins. Kitranna recognized the architecture.
“We are close,” Morrigan said. “We should be there sometime today, should all fare well.”
“Did you always have to make a trip this long just to get to a village?” Alistair asked.
“No. Sometimes it took longer, depending on where Mother had placed her home of the moment.”
“I've never been in many villages,” Kitranna said. “Just one or two inns when Duncan and I came down to Ostagar.”
The stone path was quiet, and much smoother than the muddy road had been. After walking for some time, they could see a town in the distance.
“Is that it?” Alistair asked. Morrigan nodded.
They came closer, and found that the road was blocked by a group of human men in ramshackle armor. As it turned out, the men were highwaymen, who wished to rob them. They were actually fairly polite about it at first, but the longer they looked at each other, the more edgy the highwaymen became.
“I don't know,” one of the men murmured into the leader's ear. “They look like them Chasind ones—and you know they put a curse on their gold.”
“There's no Chasind knife-ears! They're all human!” one of the other men snapped, eying Kitranna warily. Kitranna scowled, as did Alistair.
Kitranna tapped her fingers on her staff. “You're not going to get anywhere by calling me 'knife-ear,'” she informed them.
Morrigan leaned on her own staff, and the highwaymen looked at her, then back at Kitranna.
“I'm sure we can all come to some kind of agreement,” the leader of the highwaymen said, an oily grin on his face.
“If I were to hazard a guess, I would say we could not,” Morrigan said.
“Yeah, we're not really in favor of making deals with bandits,” Alistair added.
“Oh, that really is too bad,” the highwayman shook his head.
Morrigan rolled her eyes and laid her staff down on the ground. The highwaymen all watched her, curious.
There was a flash of light, and in Morrigan's place, there was an absolutely enormous spider.
The highwaymen all shrieked and scrambled back, bellowing curses. Kitranna giggled and even Alistair was smiling a little.
The highwaymen bolted, leaving behind most of their things. Morrigan turned back into a woman again and picked up her staff.
“That's really handy,” Alistair said, digging through the highwaymen's belongings. “Might cause some trouble for us, though, if they tell the Chantry. Dammit,” he muttered. “No one left a sword.”
“Do you really think a band of thieves is going to admit to being frightened away by two women, an idiot, and a mangy dog?” Morrigan asked. “What shall they say, that I turned into a spider?”
Alistair scowled. “They could say that, yeah. Because that's what happened.”
“And do you think anyone would believe them?” Morrigan began to move ahead, and they followed her.
“Some Templars might,” Kitranna said. “I don't know what they all know about magic.”
“Not much,” Alistair said.
Kitranna looked at him. “In Calenhad, they always let on like they knew more about magic than even the Enchanters.”
Morrigan scowled. “No doubt they were trying to make it seem such,” she said. “I highly doubt that they actually knew anything at all.”
“I never want to risk it,” Kitranna admitted. “I thought, what if they're just lying, trying to act smart? Then I thought, what if they know we think they're lying and they're trying to use that? The Templars have been around an awfully long time, what if they could figure out that we know that they know that we know they're liars? And what if they really do know all our magic? What if they do know everything a mage could possibly know and know how to counteract it? What if--”
“Is this what you think about all the time?” Alistair asked.
She looked at him. “Am I supposed to think of something else?”
“I suppose, in a prison, one will be heavily preoccupied with one's jailers,” Morrigan said. “Look,” she pointed. “We have arrived.”
To the right of the road, down a ramp, there lay the little village of Lothering.
“Pretty as a painting, isn't it?” Alistair said.
“I suppose if you want to ignore the highwaymen, it's nice enough,” Kitranna said.
“First things first, I need to find the smith,” Alistair said.
“Hold on a minute,” Kitranna grabbed Alistair's arm. “Plans. We need plans. We were going to get to Lothering and plan things, and now we're here.”
He sighed. “I don't know,” he admitted. “Whatever you want to do—we already know we need to go to Eamon, and use the treaties.”
“But who do we go to first? How long are we going to take to get there? What''ll we need--”
“Maybe we shouldn't be having this conversation in the middle of the road,” Alistair said. “Tell you what—I'll find the smith, you two find the inn, and we can plan there.” he rubbed his face. “At least find somewhere to sit down, that works too.”
Kitranna let go of his arm. “Fine,” she said. “I'll hold you to that.”
They parted ways for the moment, Kitranna, Morrigan and the dog going to find an inn while Alistair went to the local blacksmith. Lothering was crowded and smelled foul, almost worse than Ostagar had.
“Do you think letting him wander off on his own was the best of ideas?” Morrigan asked.
“I'm sure he'll manage,” Kitranna said.
Morrigan pursed her lips. “Not from what I've seen of him so far...”
“He's not an idiot, you know,” Kitranna told her.
“Hm.” Morrigan looked around. “I have never seen this place so crowded before.”
“Never?”
“I suppose a great number of people have been driven away from their homes because of the Horde.”
They passed by the Chantry, ignoring it. It was full of people in any case, so doubtless even if Kitranna and Morrigan were inclined to seek help of some variety, the Chantry would not be able to supply it.
“I doubt any inn here would have room for us,” Morrigan said, narrowing her eyes as she surveyed the crowds of refugees. “I daresay we shall have to move on fairly quickly.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Aside from the urgency of our task?”
“Yeah, apart from that.” Kitranna rolled her eyes.
“I dislike so many refugees in one place,” Morrigan glanced after a bickering family. “So many does not bode well.”
“How so?”
“What is it they teach you in the Circle?” Morrigan asked.
“Mostly? To be afraid of demons,” Kitranna said. “Is it so bad when so many refugees are in one place?”
“That, and the proximity to Ostagar is troubling,” Morrigan said. “Perhaps the Horde is faster than you anticipated. Perhaps they are recovering more quickly from the battle than we would like. In any case, I do not like it.”
“Well, we can't go anywhere without Alistair,” Kitranna said. “And we need supplies.”
Morrigan sighed. “True enough, though I would prefer that we not bring him with us. Even the dog is better company.” she glanced down at the dog with a faint frown.
“He's not so bad,” Kitranna said. “What do you have against him?”
“He is foolish,” Morrigan said. “Is that not enough reason? We cannot afford to be foolish.”
Kitranna shrugged. “It's not like we can afford to turn down the help, either.”
Morrigan glanced at her sidelong. “So you would not wish him with us if you did not need the aid?”
“No,” Kitranna said. “No, I'd still want him along.”
“Why?”
“Well, he's friendly,” Kitranna pointed out. “He's got that over you.”
Morrigan scowled. “I can be friendly if I desire to. Alas, desiring to be more intelligent does not make it so.”
Kitranna sighed and shook her head. “You're like two apprentices in the same project,” she said with a small smile.
They found the inn, a ramshackle, crowded building filled with the smell of smoke and too many unwashed bodies.
Morrigan and Kitranna both wrinkled their noses upon entering.
“Right,” Kitranna said. “Let's not stay the night here.”
“Agreed.”
Alistair found the smith, who informed him that she was not a swordsmith, and the best she could do for him was, essentially, put an edge on an iron club and give it a handle. He told her that was honestly all he needed and she gave him what she offered. He knew some swordsmithing himself (you didn't learn how to use a sword without learning at least a little of how it was made), and could reasonably improve on whatever he got.
Feeling much better with a sword on his back, even a poor one, he made to look for the inn and meet back up with Kitranna and Morrigan.
Unfortunately, he was spotted by some very unwelcome persons. Several men in the livery of Loghain's soldiers approached him.
“Oi,” one of them said, stepping right in his path. “Weren't you at Ostagar? With the Wardens?”
Alistair looked the men up and down. “...no...” he said slowly, trying to size up the situation. “No, you must have me confused with someone else. Someone very handsome, I'm sure, but not me.”
“There was definitely a Warden who looked like him,” one of the other men said, folding his arms.
“Lots of people look like me,” Alistair said. “It's a curse, really, I just have one of those faces.”
The tension was growing thicker and Alistair's hand itched to take his blade when someone interrupted them.
“Gentlemen, surely there is no need for trouble?” they all looked over to see a redheaded Sister coming towards them. Her skin was bone-pale and despite the Chantry habit, she carried a set of twin blades on her back. “He is no doubt simply one more poor soul seeking refuge.”
“He's more than that,” Loghain's man eyed the blade on the Sister's back. “I know this man—he's a Warden, a traitor to the Crown. Stay out of the way, Sister. If you protect him, you'll get the same.”
Alistair's mouth went dry. “Since when are the Wardens traitors?” he burst out.
“Teryn Loghain claims the Wardens killed the King,” the Sister said before any of the soldiers could speak. She looked back at the soldiers. “You see? If he has not heard the news, surely he is merely another refugee.”
The soldiers narrowed their eyes, and several hands tensed on weapons.
“There is no need to fight,” the Sister urged. “You have all come through much hardship. You should not cast aspersions on this man, simply because he resembles someone you seek.”
Some of the soldiers hesitated, glancing at each other. The man at the front scowled. “We cannot take the chance. Take him into custody,” he instructed his men. “The Sister as well if she gets in your way.”
Alistair sighed as weapons were drawn, and he found himself back-to-back with the Sister, fighting off the soldiers.
He made a mental note to never, ever separate from his traveling companions again. Ever. At least mages were good at scaring opponents off or blowing them up.
On the other hand, the Sister was extremely good with her blades, and she and Alistair made short work of the soldiers.
Fortunately, they did not need to kill them—the leader surrendered after Alistair broke his arm.
The Sister smiled at that, and sheathed her blades. “Good. You have learnt your lesson and we can all stop fighting now.”
“Alright, I want to know what this is about the Wardens getting the King killed?” Alistair said, sheathing his sword as well.
“I was there!” the soldier snapped. “The teryn pulled us all out of a trap!”
Alistair scowled, and the Sister put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” she told Alistair. “If you are not a Warden, this is no business of ours.” she squeezed his shoulder tightly.
“Uh—right,” Alistair said, with a glance at the Sister. He glanced down at the soldier, who was cradling his broken arm. “Well I—uh, I hope you learned something about attacking random strangers.”
He and the Sister left them.
“I apologize for interfering,” the Sister said. “But I couldn't just sit by and not help.”
“I appreciate it,” Alistair said. “Really! Just me against five men with nice swords? I'd never stand a chance.”
“Are you by yourself?”
“Me and the people I'm with decided to split up,” he sighed. “I just needed to see the smith, I didn't need all this!”
“I am glad you found it in your heart to offer those men mercy,” the Sister said seriously.
“Me? Did we not go over the whole 'five big men with better swords and armor than me' thing?”
“You could have kept fighting, even he surrendered,” she pointed out. “You could have struck him down. You did not.”
Alistair flushed. “Well...you know, I don't think that's...the right thing to do, killing an unarmed man, in the middle of town. I broke his arm, after all.” he said. “Hey—what's your name, anyway? We fought together, might as well learn names. Or should I just call you 'the scary Sister with the knives?'”
She laughed. “I am Leliana, and I am only a laysister for the Chantry here. See?” she pointed at the Chantry in the center of town.
“I'm Alistair.”
“Those men said you were a Gray Warden,” she said.
“Ah—yes, but--” he rubbed the back of his head.
She looked up at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “You are not a very good liar.”
“I just keep getting insulted by women,” he said with a sigh.
She looked stricken. “It was not an insult!” she protested. “It is a good thing, it means you are an honest man.”
“Oh! Oh, well, thank you.”
“You are fighting Darkspawn, yes? You will need help. That is why I am coming along.”
“Coming along?” he was brought up short, and he stared at her. “Wait—you can't just decide that!”
“Why not?”
“Well, first of all—I need to find the people I'm with,” he told her. “I can't really make a decision to bring someone along without talking to them, too.”
“Oh,” Leliana nodded. “I see. Well we shall find them, then, and then I shall come with you.”
Alistair sighed. “Alright...I mean, you were very good with your daggers, that's true. And that would make you the first member of our party to have a bladed weapon that's not terrible.”
Leliana laughed again, and they set off for the Inn.
“So you were left on your lonesome for a bare few hours, and you somehow managed to get into some variety of altercation?” Morrigan said, shaking her head. They had met back up at the inn, where Kitranna and Morrigan had secured a table, despite the press of people in the room.
“It was not his fault,” Leliana said. “He was recognized.”
“Speaking of which, if you can be recognized, you certainly will be,” Morrigan said, pointing to Alistair and Kitranna in turn. “We should leave as soon as we are able.”
“I agree,” Leliana said. “This place is dangerous for you.”
“You really want to come with us?” Kitranna asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“The Maker told me to.”
Everyone stared at her.
“...did he now?” Kitranna managed.
Leliana looked away. “I...I know that sounds absolutely insane,” she admitted.
Morrigan snorted.
“But it is true! I had a dream! A vision!”
“And here I thought you seemed like a perfectly normal person,” Alistair sighed.
“Look at the people here,” Leliana said, gesturing around the room. “They are lost in their despair, and this darkness, this...chaos will spread. The Maker doesn't want this. What you do, what you are meant to do, is the Maker's work.”
Kitranna deliberately leaned forward and said, quietly so as to not be overheard; “I am a mage.”
Leliana blinked at her. “...yes?” she said when Kitranna did not elaborate.
Kitranna frowned. “I am a mage, and yet I can do the Maker's work?”
Leliana still looked confused. “Of course!” she said. “Anyone can.”
Kitranna narrowed her eyes. “You don't think that I'm cursed?” she said. “Dangerous? Something to be locked up and prayed over?”
“No, of course not!” Leliana said, shocked.
Kitranna sat back in her seat. She pursed her lips and rubbed her forehead.
“Why would you think such a thing?” Leliana asked.
Kitranna looked at her. “Have you not paid the slightest bit of attention?” she snapped. “I thought you were a laysister. Haven't you heard all that rot about mages being the bane of Thedas?”
Leliana slowly shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, I have heard nothing of that.”
Kitranna gaped at her. “But...”
“Your Chantry declares all magic outside the Circles to be dangerous and wicked,” Morrigan cut in. “Have you truthfully not heard this?”
“They do not say that,” Leliana insisted. “Those with magic must be guided and watched, yes, lest a demon attack them, but magic is not evil. It is a tool, one difficult to control, yes, but never evil.”
Kitranna growled to herself and looked away.
“Is that what they told you in the Circle?” Leliana asked, aghast.
“That's definitely how a lot of Circle people see it,” Alistair muttered.
“A curse,” Kitranna growled. “A sign of the Maker's hatred for my people's sins. A sign that the Maker will not return to the world. Something that makes me evil, makes me dangerous, makes me need to be locked up.”
Leliana was shocked. “That is not how the Maker is!” she said. “Now I must come with you for sure—you must know that the Chantry is not how the Circle shows it to be!”
Kitranna ground her teeth, and Alistair leaned forward. “We can't really turn away help...” Alistair said. “And she's good with a blade. Also, she has a blade.”
“Oh—did you manage to find a sword, by the way?” Kitranna asked.
“It's more of a club with a blade, but yes, I found one.”
Morrigan's mouth twisted. “I would advise against taking her with us,” she said, nodding at Leliana.
“If you're against it, I say we let her on board,” Alistair said.
Kitranna kneaded her forehead. “She really knows how to use those knives?” she asked Alistair.
“I can pick locks, also,” Leliana pointed out.
Kitranna perked up immediately. “Oh! None of us knows how to do that!” she said. “You can come with us.”
Leliana blinked, then laughed. “I should have mentioned my skills earlier,” she said.
“Might have helped,” Kitranna said.
“Anyway...” Alistair said with a deliberate look at Kitranna. “We were talking about where we intend to go, first.”
Kitranna leaned her head on her hand. “I don't know,” she said. “I barely know what Ferelden is like off of a map.”
“If Loghain's men are searching for you, perhaps you should avoid cities for the moment,” Leliana pointed out. “What are your aims?”
“Who do the Gray Wardens have treaties with?” Kitranna asked Alistair.
“The Circle of Magi, Orzammar, and any Dalish Clan,” he said. He rubbed the back of his head. “The Dalish part is a little tricky because they're not one big group like the Circle or the dwarves or anyone else, and the Treaty was made back when they still had the Dales, but they usually listen to Gray Wardens.”
“The Dalish will be the most difficult group to find,” Morrigan said. “They move quickly. If you wish to locate a Clan before they leave Ferelden, as I suspect they will once they learn of the Blight, you should do so soon.”
Kitranna's mouth twisted. She'd heard stories of the Dalish, how they tossed mage members of their Clans to the Circle, not wanting them.
“I suppose if we need them,” she said. “I'm not sure, though.”
“Why not?” Alistair asked. “Aren't you an elf, too?”
“Many Dalish do not favor elves from outside their Clans,” Morrigan pointed out.
“And they don't like mages, either,” Kitranna said.
Morrigan raised her eyebrows at Kitranna and frowned. “I would not trust any stories you heard of the Dalish inside the Circle,” she said.
Kitranna shrugged and looked away.
“I say we should go to Arl Eamon first,” Alistair said. “But...if Loghain's looking for us, and he knows we escaped, us, specifically--”
“You think he'll look for us in Redcliffe?” Kitranna asked.
Alistair nodded. “I know Arl Eamon,” he said. “And he and Loghain never really got on anyway—it'd be the choice that made sense.”
“So you need to do the unexpected,” Leliana said. “The Brecelian Forest is very unexpected, and very difficult to find people in. We should go there first.”
Alistair looked at Kitranna. “What do you think? The Brecelian?”
“Where's Orzammar?” Kitranna asked.
Alistair grimaced. “Further away than the Brecelian, I can tell you that,” he said. “I wouldn't much fancy going this time of year, either. The mountains will be a nightmare to get through—that's one of the reasons Orlais was taking so long to get us any help, the Frostbacks are just terrible now, and they'll only get worse when winter actually sets in.”
Kitranna sighed. “The Brecelian, then,” she said. “We'll go there.”
They didn't spend the night in the inn. They left quickly, not wanting to encounter any more soldiers. They got what little supplies there was to be had, most of it having been taken up by the refugees.
There was a group of Chasind who had been chased out of the Wilds among the refugees, and oddly, one imprisoned Qunari man. Kitranna thought he was vashothari at first—though he had no horns, the gray cast of his skin and his towering stature gave him away.
They approached the cage he was captive in, and he frowned, looking them over.
“You are not one of my captors,” he said. He had a deep, rumbling voice with a thick accent that Kitranna couldn't identify. “I will not amuse you any more than I have anyone else. Leave me in peace.”
“Why are you in there?” Kitranna asked.
“I have been placed here by the Chantry.”
“Sure, but why?”
“I have been convicted of murder. Have the villagers not spoken of this?”
“If they have, I haven't noticed,” Kitranna said.
“I am curious,” Morrigan said. “Are you truthfully guilty of this crime?” she asked him.
“Are you asking if I feel guilt, or if I am responsible for the deed?” he said. “However I feel, whatever I've done, my life is forfeit now.”
“Oh!” Leliana exclaimed. “I have heard the Revered Mother speak of this man,” she said to Kitranna. “He is a Qunari who did kill several people.”
“A Qunari?” Kitranna exclaimed. “Not vashothari?”
The man's lip curled. “I am Sten of the Beresaad, of the Qunari,” he confirmed. “I am no vashoth or tal-vashoth.”
“We should move on,” Kitranna said quickly, grabbing Alistair's arm. “Come on, let's go.”
“And leave him trapped, as bait for the darkspawn?” Morrigan said.
“Why not?” Kitranna said. “You know what the Qunari do to mages.”
Morrigan hesitated. “That I do,” she said. “That is hardly his doing.”
“He killed a family of eight,” Leliana said. “Including children.”
“Yeah, we're leaving,” Kitranna said. “I draw the line at Qunari child-murderers.”
The Qunari didn't say anything as they left, just watched them go. Morrigan glanced over her should at him, her eyes narrowed in thought, but they left him behind.
They acquired the supplies that they could from Lothering, and then set off on the dwarven road again. They took the road east, towards the Brecelian.
They were not an hour out of Lothering when they ran into a group of Darkspawn harassing a pair of dwarven merchants.
They took down the Darkspawn easily, but were unnerved by their presence.
Kitranna heaved a breath. “How are there darkspawn so close here already?” she asked, lowering her staff and putting it on her back.
Alistair shook his head, sheathing his sword. “The Horde must be closer than we thought,” he said, biting his lip.
Leliana had already put her blades away and was focused on the two dwarves.
“Mighty timely arrival there, my friends,” said one of the dwarves. “I'm much obliged.”
Kitranna turned to him. “No problem,” she said.
“Name's Bodahn Feddic,” the dwarf said. “Merchant and entrepreneur. This here's my boy, Sandal.” he gestured to the other dwarf with him, a short-haired young man with large blue eyes. “Say hello, Sandal.”
Sandal gave a shy “Hello,” but didn't say anything else.
Bodahn sighed. “Road's been mighty dangerous these days. Might I ask where you're going? Could be we're going the same way.”
Kitranna glanced aroun at her companions before saying “We're going east. To the Brecelian.”
Bodahn laughed. “My, that's a bit of a journey, isn't it?”
“It's complicated.”
“I imagine that only says half of it!”
Kitranna smiled. “It does. I...guess you could follow us if you wanted, but it's not exactly a safe trip.”
Bodahn nodded. “There may be more excitement on your path than is good for my boy and me. Allow me to bid you farewell and good fortune.”
“G'bye,” Sandal said, with a little wave.
“Goodbye,” Kitranna said, and her group was off again.
“They were a bit odd, weren't they?” Alistair asked.
Kitranna shrugged. “I wouldn't know.”
“All dwarven merchants are a bit odd,” Leliana said. “Even surface dwarves.”
“Have you met many dwarves?” Kitranna asked.
Leliana shrugged. “A few, I suppose. More than most people. I have traveled a great deal.”
“I noticed,” Alistair said. “Couldn't exactly miss the accent.”
Leliana chuckled. “Ah, I see. I have not been in Ferelden long, you see. I have tried to get rid of it—many Fereldens don't like to hear a Sister with an Orlesian accent.”
“Makes sense, I suppose.”
“Yes, it does.”
It would take them much longer to get to the Brecelian than it had to get from the Wilds to Lothering, three weeks, and then however many days it took to locate one of the Clans.
No one had any idea which Clan was in residence in the Brecelian at the moment. As far as the Wardens knew, according to Alistair, there were roughly ten Clans of varying sizes that cycled through the Brecelian on a regular basis. There were other, smaller Clans up north, at least one that stuck to the Frostbacks, and one notable Clan that for some reason hovered around various entrances to the Deep Roads. However, if one wanted to find a Clan, and a large one at that, the best bet would be head to the Brecelian.
The only reason the Wardens knew any of this was because there was one Dalish Warden stationed in Ferelden—or there had been, before Ostagar.
Neither Leliana nor Morrigan knew anything about Ferelden Dalish Clans. Morrigan had seen several who passed through the Wilds, but she and Flemeth had mostly avoided them, like they avoided everyone else.
Leliana had only met one member of a Dalish Clan, and she told the story one night on the road.
“It was very strange,” she explained. “She was separated from the rest of her Clan, I think, and dressed all in beautiful furs and hides. She smelled like Lyrium—worse than a Templar. She had those lovely tattoos on her face and I honestly barely understood a word she said, her Common was so odd.”
“Was this in Orlais or Ferelden?” Alistair asked.
“The border,” Leliana said. “I was crossing over the Frostbacks. Explains why she had the furs, I suppose.”
“What was she doing there?” Kitranna wanted to know.
Leliana shrugged. “I don't know. She was just...very odd. She was nice enough, but she said a great many things that I did not understand. Other than that, I don't really know anything about the Dalish.”
“That could not be clearer,” Morrigan muttered.
Leliana was a pleasant enough traveling companion, if somewhat preachy. She was, however, extremely good with her daggers, so that was something. She and Alistair got on well enough, and she liked the dog (who still did not have an official name as of yet), but she and Morrigan argued almost constantly.
Although Morrigan was prickly and rude, Kitranna still preferred her company to that of either Alistair or Leliana, however.
“Did you grow up in the Wilds?” Kitranna asked the other woman one evening.
Morrigan wrinkled her nose. “Why do you ask me such questions?” she demanded. “I do not probe you for pointless information, do I?”
“You could if you wanted to,” Kitranna pointed out. “I wouldn't mind.”
Morrigan deflated somewhat, mollified. She chuckled. “Oh, what luck! What is it you ask? If I...'grew up' in the Wilds?”
“Yes.”
“Where else would you picture me?”
Kitranna shrugged. “I don't know. I find it a bit hard to picture anything outside the Circles at all.”
“...ah.” Morrigan got that funny, pitying look on her face for an instant. Kitranna scowled at her, and Morrigan frowned right back, but continued. “For many years, it was simply Flemeth and I. The Wilds and its creatures were more real to me that Flemeth's tales of the world of man.”
Kitranna put her chin on her hands. “Sounds familiar.”
“Does it? Does living in the Circle sound so similar to my life in the Wilds?”
“A bit.”
“How so?” Morrigan pressed. “I left the Wilds, when I grew curious. You could not.”
Kitranna's face darkened. “No. I couldn't. But I know what you mean about everything outside the place you lived not seeming real.” she looked up at the sky. “The Fade was always more real to me than anything outside the Tower.”
“Are you a dreamwalker?” Morrigan asked.
“A what?”
“A somniari? The ancient Elvhen word for them is 'ive'an'virelan'—'walker of the Fade.'”
Kitranna shook her head. “I don't think so. I've read about them, though. I thought they were all gone.”
Morrigan shrugged. “I do not know. I have never met one. However, there are many things thought to be lost that have simply been forgotten or misplaced.”
“Hm.” Kitranna leaned forward. “You said you left the Wilds.”
“Back to me, are we?”
“Yeah.”
Morrigan sighed. “I never left for long. Brief forays into a civilized wilderness.”
“How come no one ever caught you?”
Morrigan smiled. “Flemeth taught me well. But however well I had been taught, the truth of the civilized lands proved to be...overwhelming.”
“How so?”
“I was unfamiliar with so much. So confident and bold was I, yet there was much Flemeth could never have prepared me for.”
“Did you ever get hurt?”
Morrigan tilted her head to the side. “No. Not in any lasting way. Only once was I ever accused of being a mage, and that by a Chasind who happened to be traveling with a merchant caravan.” she chuckled to herself. “He identified me as a Witch of the Wilds—he pointed and gasped and began shouting in his own language, which, being merchants, naturally his companions did not know. They assumed he was putting a curse on me. I acted the terrified girl, and he was arrested.”
“Quick thinking.”
Morrigan smirked. “Men are always willing to believe two things about a woman; one, that she is weak, and two, that she finds him attractive. I played the weakling and batted my eyelashes at the captain of the guard. Child's play. The point being that I was able to move through human lands fairly easily. Whatever most humans think a Witch of the Wilds looks like, 'tis not I.”
Kitranna peered at her. “Aren't you a human?”
“Mostly,” Morrigan said. She tapped her cheek under one brilliant yellow eye. “My sire was an elf, or so Flemeth says.”
Kitranna nodded. “Ah, I see.”
“Not that I did not have trouble,” Morrigan added. “there are things about human society that have always puzzled me. Such as all the touching—why so much touching for a simple greeting?”
“I have no idea—we never did that much in the Tower, so I don't really understand it either.”
“You did not?”
“No. Everyone was crowded anyways—we kind of...tried to avoid touching each other.” she fingered the bridge of her nose. “That, and the Templars always watched who you were friends with.”
Morrigan frowned. “Why would they do such a thing?”
“I think they wanted to keep an eye on people they thought might get each other pregnant or something,” Kitranna said, hunching her shoulders.
Morrigan let out a breath. “Ah, I see—I understand you are not allowed to have children in the Circle.”
“Well, you can—they just take them away.”
Morrigan scowled. “Horrid. Why do you let them cage you in such a way?”
Kitranna looked up at her sharply. “Who said I let them?”
“You had not escaped before the Wardens recruited you, yes?”
“I couldn't,” Kitranna insisted.
“How so? Want anything enough and it will be done.”
“Have you ever had a Silence put on you?” Kitranna asked in a low voice.
“I have never had the pleasure.”
“Makes your ears ring, twists up your insides—makes it feel like something's squeezing your chest,” Kitranna murmured. “Everything goes quiet. Quieter than anything in the whole world. It's like the air turns to iron, it's so heavy.”
“Surely you can fight it--”
“You try, and they run you through,” Kitranna snapped. “If you fight they say you're an Abomination, a demon, and they kill you or make you Tranquil. How am I supposed to fight that?”
Morrigan sat back, considering. “I would find it preferable to be dead than to be in such a cage,” she said at last. “Do you not agree?”
“No!” Kitranna exclaimed. “No, I don't!” she hugged her knees close to her chest. “Some people agree with you, though,” she said.
“Do they?”
“Lot of suicides.” Kitranna said bluntly. “They used to jump—but then they sealed off all the windows to stop that happening, so people got creative. Knew one girl who cut her throat.” she smirked without any kind of mirth in the expression. “She did it right in front of the Templars by the front door. They thought she knew blood magic, and they had their swords on her and Silences and everything, but she just opened her throat up right in front of them.”
Morrigan looked at her for a long moment. “What did they do after that?”
“Who? The mages or the Templars?”
“Both.”
Kitranna shrugged and picked at the ground. “Went on. I don't know what they do with dead mages. We don't have a graveyard or anything in the Tower.”
“Mm,” Morrigan nodded. “I suppose they would not wish risking the bodies being used by an errant Necromancer.”
“We don't teach Necromancy in the Circles.”
“But I thought—that is a Nevarran art, Necromancy, is Nevarran magic not approved by the Chantry?”
“It involves dead bodies, do you really think the Circle would allow it?”
Morrigan sniffed. “I suppose they would not.”
“No. They wouldn't.”
Morrigan's mouth curled. “The Chantry has no respect for mages and their power,” she said. “They think you are incapable of controlling yourselves, that you are dangerous animals.”
“Pretty much.”
“We must go to the Circle in order to acquire aid from the mages,” Morrigan pointed out. “What do you plan to do?”
Kitranna closed her eyes. “I don't know.” she admitted.
They encountered the assassin about a week out from the Brecelian, when they walked straight into a trap.
A woman had come up to them on the road, begging for help. It had seemed suspicious, but just plausible enough to be true, so they followed her.
Now they were trapped in a small valley, surrounded by soldiers. Kitranna pulled her staff off her back, summoning a Barrier spell to stave off the opponents' arrows. Leliana cocked her crossbow. Morrigan assumed the shape of a giant bear, making at least two of their attackers drop their weapons in shock. Alistair pulled out his sword and shield.
“We should leave one of them alive!” Leliana called.
“If you insist,” Kitranna shouted back.
The battle was not very long. The trap, though well-laid, had not been expecting the size of their group and skill of the party members.
They left one man alive, the one they assumed to be the leader of this little ambush, as the woman who had lured them here had gone to him first. Kitranna had hit him with a strong sleeping spell, so he was still out of it as Leliana tied him hand and foot.
He was a slight elvhen man, dressed in metal armor and equipped with a pair of fine daggers that Leliana identified as of Antivan make. Leliana frowned as she turned the daggers over in her hand.
“Something the matter?” Kitranna asked.
Leliana shook her head. “It is odd that he has these,” she said. “There are very few Antivan weapons in Ferelden, I have found.”
“Maybe he's Antivan,” Kitranna said with a shrug.
“That would open up a great many nasty possibilities,” Leliana said. “Can you wake him so we can question him?”
Kitranna took the sleep spell off, and the man began to wake.
He blinked sleepily, and groaned when he saw them. “I rather thought I would wake up dead,” he said, and his thick accent confirmed the possibility of him being Antivan. “Or not wake up at all, as the case may be.” he tilted his head to one side. He had long blonde hair pulled away from his face with several braids, and he blew a stray strand of it out of his eyes. “I see you have not killed me yet.”
“We have questions,” Alistair said.
“Ah,” the man nodded. “So I am to be interrogated. Let me save you some time. My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends, and I am a member of the Antivan Crows--”
Leliana let out a sigh and shook her head.
Zevran smirked at her. “You know of us, I see? I was brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any remaining Gray Wardens, a task I have failed at, sadly.”
“Not so sad for us,” Kitranna pointed out.
“No, you are right, it is quite fortunate for you. Less so for me.”
“So...who was it that hired you?” Kitranna asked.
“A rather taciturn fellow in the capital—Loghain, I think he was called.”
“How did you know where we were?” Kitranna asked.
“Well, really, how many parties containing an elf mage, a swordsman and an apparent witch are there on the roads?” Zevran said. “I simply looked for the group best fitting the description, and here you are.”
“Are we really drawing that much attention?” Kitranna wanted to know.
“Considering you have not one but two mages in your party, one of which can turn into a bear,” Zevran eyed Morrigan with some trepidation. “I would say so, yes.”
Kitranna narrowed her eyes and folded her arms. “Why are you telling us all this?”
“Why not?” he said with a shrug. “I was not paid for my silence. Not that I offered it, exactly.”
Kitranna looked at her companions. “I like him,” she said.
“That pleases me greatly to hear, Lady,” Zevran said with a wink. Kitranna chuckled.
“Surana, he just tried to kill us,” Alistair said. “You do not like assassins!”
“You know, if you are not set on slitting my throat, or something equally gruesome, perhaps you'd like to hear a proposal?” Zevran suggested.
“What do you have in mind?” Kitranna asked.
“Hearing proposals from assassins is hardly a wise decision,” Morrigan said.
“I just want to hear him out!” Kitranna said.
“That is exactly the problem here.”
“Here's the thing,” Zevran said. “I could not kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. However, I like living. And you are the sort to give the Crows pause, so, let me serve you, instead.”
“That's a stupid idea,” Alistair said.
“That is how the Antivan Crows do their business, however...” Leliana pointed out.
“We should not recruit the assassin!” Alistair burst out. “He was trying to kill us an hour ago!”
“To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice about joining the Crows,” Zevran admitted with a shrug. “They bought me on the slave market when I was a child—I think I have paid my worth back to them tenfold. The only way to be free of them is to join someone they can't touch.” he raised his bound hands. “Even if I did kill you now, the Crows might simply kill me on principle for failing the first time. Honestly, I'd rather take my chances with you.”
“Can you use a sword?” Kitranna asked.
Zevran blinked. “I prefer daggers...” he said.
“Are you seriously considering this?” Alistair said.
“We still need people,” Kitranna said with a shrug.
“What happened to 'not being desperate enough to recruit murderers?'”
“He was a Qunari who'd murdered children.” Kitranna glanced down at Zevran. “Are you a Qunari?”
Zevran narrowed his eyes in confusion. “No.”
“Have you ever killed children?”
“No.”
“There, you see?” Kitranna told Alistair. “It's fine.”
“What exactly is the story behind that question?” Zevran wanted to know.
“How is any of this fine?” Alistair demanded.
“The Crows most likely would kill him for failing his job,” Leliana put in. “That is no lie. There is nothing he could gain from attempting to kill us later.”
“Alright, then we're bringing him with us,” Kitranna said, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“No!” Alistair protested. “We should not do that!”
“Why not?”
“Because he'll probably kill us in our sleep or something!” he insisted.
“That really would do me no favors at this point,” Zevran pointed out.
“It really wouldn't,” Leliana said. “And we can hardly discount any skills he may have. Crows are known for their skill with daggers, locks and poisons—It would be an excellent idea.”
“Ugh—fine,” Alistair groaned. “It's your fault if he kills us,” he told Kitranna.
“Duly noted,” Kitranna said. She undid Zevran's bonds, and helped him to his feet.
“I hearby pledge my oath of loyalty to you until such time as you choose to release me from it,” Zevran addressed Kitranna directly. “This I swear.” he inclined his head in a slight bow.
“Wonderful,” Morrigan drawled. “I would watch my food and drink far more closely, were I you,” she informed Kitranna.
“That's excellent advice for anyone!” Zevran said with a smile.
Zevran stuck close to Kitranna's side as they traveled, gravitating towards her in just about any formation they adopted. Kitranna assumed it was because she was the one who had wanted him to come along the most, and nothing really contradicted that assumption.
“You come from the Circle, yes?” Zevran asked her at one point.
Kitranna nodded. “Lake Calenhad.”
“What was it like there? I have heard the most wild tales about the Antivan Circle...”
“Miserable,” Kitranna said. “Unless the tales you heard had to do with Abominations, suicides, and Templars stabbing people, they were probably all wrong.”
“Ahh,” Zevran nodded. “I have also heard Templars can be a bit blade-happy, it is true. Then again, many people in Antiva are blade-happy, so I thought perhaps it was different here.”
“Not really. What's it like, being a Crow? How do you become one?”
“The Crows would have you believe that it is a long and involved process that requires years of training, the sort that tests both your resolve and your endurance. Survive that process and maybe, just maybe, you are good enough to be considered one of them.”
“That's not true?”
“Quite frankly, all it requires is the desire to kill people for a living.”
“Oh. What makes you different from a mercenary?”
“Assassins poison more people. We are also far more romantic and clever a profession.” he smirked and tilted his chin up.
“Didn't seem that clever when we beat you,” she reminded him.
“Ah, well, I was not expecting two mages of your skill, was I? Much less two mages as lovely as you.”
Kitranna laughed. “That's sweet. But really—how are you so different from mercenaries? Couldn't a mercenary poison someone too?”
“Assassins specialize particularly in striking from stealth,” he told her. “In making their first attack the most lethal. Mercenaries are more like soldiers—they are simply different tactical choices, rather than lifestyles.”
Kitranna nodded. “I think Leliana used to be an assassin,” she said.
“Do you now?” Zevran glanced over at Leliana.
Kitranna nodded. “What Chantry Sister knows how to use knives and can pick locks and traps?”
“Orlais has less of a tradition of assassins,” he said. “I think it more likely she was a bard. Similar skillset, somewhat different approach.”
“How so?”
“Bards are specialized in the art of killing someone indirectly,” he explained. “With a word, a note, the correct piece of evidence—in Orlais, the nobility kill just as often as they do in Antiva, but the trick is that they would have you believe all the deaths are an accident.”
“Huh.” Kitranna looked over at Leliana. She was chatting with Alistair, and she saw Kitranna looking and smiled.