About a week after the affair with Feynriel, Abigail went to see Merrill. Merrill's new house was quite nice for an Alienage residence, a small tenement right next to Velanna and Sigrun's, and Abigail had not had a chance to visit it yet without being on business.
“Oh, Abigail!” Merrill exclaimed when she opened the door. “I wasn't expecting you.”
She invited Abigail inside.
“What do you think of your new home?” Abigail asked, looking around the house. It was a little dark and shabby, with a potted plant under the lone window, but it seemed cozy enough.
“It's nice,” Merrill said. “A bit lonely, but Sigrun and Velanna are right next door, so that's good.”
They sat at Merrill's table. “Sorry,” Merrill said. “I don't really have anything to offer you other than water—I keep forgetting to buy tea.”
“That's alright,” Abigail assured her. “I'm not much of a tea drinker anyway.”
“What about your house?” Merrill asked, perking up excitedly. 'It must be so different, living in that great big house in Hightown...”
“It's nice,” Abigail said. “Mother loves it—Carver is getting cabin fever, but every time he complains about how bored he is I tell him to go out and find a job. He never does.”
“Poor Carver,” Merrill sighed. “Have you heard from Bethany at all? You must be terribly worried. I am.”
Abigail shook her head. “We have been trying, but nothing yet,” she said. “Mother appealed to Grand Cleric Elthina to make an exception, but Elthina wasn't having any of it.” Abigail pinched the bridge of her nose. “She even went to the Viscount, but he told her to go back to the Chantry.”
“And even after you helped the Knight-Captain find his missing recruits, too,” Merrill said with a scowl. “What an awful man!”
“I don't understand it,” Abigail admitted. “I mean—we couldn't just see her, or even get a letter from her? Apparently even that is too dangerous, even with the Templars around?” she shook her head. “It's absolutely ridiculous.”
“Well, we knew the Templars weren't too bright,” Merrill said. “Maybe they're cruel on purpose, too.”
“What possible reason could they have for this—petty nonsense?” Abigail asked. “It doesn't make any sense!”
Merrill shrugged. “Maybe Anders has a better idea,” she said. “He was at the Circle, he'd know what Templars were like.”
“I suppose,” Abigail looked downcast, and searched for a topic change. “So...how will you know when the eluvian is working?” Abigail asked. “It's already making those odd sounds. Maybe you really do just need two to make one work.”
“I don't really know,” Merrill said. “It's just...not doing what it's supposed to.” she glanced towards the door that lead to the room where the eluvian was kept. “Maybe I do need two...” she sighed.
“Perhaps,” Abigail said. “You said it was for communication?”
Merrill nodded. “Long ago, in Elvhenan, the cities all had eluvians, so they could speak to each other.”
“Well, it sounds like that might be exactly the problem, then.”
“Oh...where would I even find one?” Merrill fretted.
“Maybe you can figure out how to build a new one from this one,” Abigail suggested. “What's it made out of?”
“Metal,” Merrill said. “Ironbark. I made the frame myself. The mirror has spells on it, all sorts. I worked them out from the shards.”
“How?”
“Oh, well, that took quite a bit of work, actually!” Merrill got to her feet. “I can show you, if you want!”
“Of course,” Abigail stood up as well, and Merrill lead her to the room where the mirror was kept.
“You see, I collected all the shards I could,” she pointed to the eluvian’s smooth surface. It looked as if the glass had never been broken. “I needed to piece them together. Some were broken, but whenever I put one piece to another, they just became whole again.”
“Just like that?”
Merrill nodded. “There are an awful lot of self-repair spells on the glass. I even went into the Fade and double-checked every spell, to make sure I’d cleaned it up properly.”
“There’s a—double of it, in the Fade?”
“Oh, yes! You know how there tends to be a double of everything?”
“I’m familiar with it, yes.”
“Well, an eluvian has a very solid double—it’s tied exactly to where the eluvian is in the physical world.”
“Hm,” Abigail brushed the frame of the eluvian. “I see.”
“The only problem is, I'm having a hard time working out where the problems are, if you see what I mean,” Merrill tapped the frame. “I think there's a problem with the connection between here and the Fade, but I don't know for sure.”
“I'm sure you'll figure it out,” Abigail assured her.
“You think so?”
“Why not?”
Merrill laughed. “Why not! Well—all sorts of reasons, really, but...” she sighed. “Maybe.”
They continued talking well into the night, until Abigail needed to return home.
The news about Bartrand was ignoble and not nearly as satisfying as anyone would have liked.
“You found Bartrand?” Abigail asked.
“Yeah,” Varric said.
“What do we do now?”
“Nothing,” Varric said. “He's dead.”
Abigail stared at him for a long moment. “What?”
“Turns out, when he left town, he went crazy and killed half his staff,” Varric said, looking into the middle distance. “They had to call the Guard on him.”
Abigail sat back in her chair. “So...what next?”
“I sort through his will, I guess,” Varric siad. “One of the servants who was still alive told me about that idol we picked up—thought it was that thing that drove Bartrand crazy.”
“Do you remember what the Architect said?” Abigail asked suddenly. “About the red lyrium being...wrong?” she leaned forward. “Varric, where's that idol now?”
Varric pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don't know,” he said, shaking his head. “Maybe it's still in with Bartrand's things, I have no idea. A lot of his stuff was confiscated by the Guard.”
Abigail was quiet for a long moment. She leaned forward and steepled her fingers. “Well...what do we do now?”
“I can look for the idol,” Varric said. “Make sure it didn't get into the wrong hands. Other than that...” he shrugged. “Not a lot else to do, really.”
“Oh.” she and Varric were quiet, and Abigail sighed. “I’m sorry to hear about Bartrand,” she said quietly. “Maybe we can talk to Aveline about his things.”
“Yeah,” Varric said. “Maybe.”
A few weeks after that, Aveline came knocking on Abigail's door in the middle of the night. Oddly, she had Fenris in tow.
“What's the matter?” Abigail asked, rubbing her eyes.
“I need you,” Aveline said. “Right now.”
Abigail noted the urgency in Aveline's voice and yanked on her armor. “What's going on?” she asked.
“Someone poisoned a city block,” Aveline said. As soon as Abigail had her armor on, Fenris and Aveline both immediately left and went down the street, Abigail jogging to keep up.
“What?” Abigail exclaimed, hurrying to catch up with Aveline.
“There's some sort of poisonous cloud over a street in Lowtown,” Aveline explained.
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“I need someone with magic,” Aveline explained. “Merrill, Velanna and Anders are too far away for them to get here quickly.”
“I don't have magic,” Fenris insisted. “I can hardly be of that much assistance in a magical matter.”
Abigail and Aveline looked at him with dubious expressions.
“Whatever you say,” Aveline said, while Fenris scowled. “The point is, I need someone with unusual skills.”
“Any skills in particular, besides magic?” Abigail asked.
“Anything at all,” Aveline gritted. “Come on.” she lead them down a side street, and immediately the smell was apparent, like rust and vomit and rotting meat. At the end of the street was a cordon watched by several Guards who were keeping the citizens out.
“Any change?” Aveline asked them.
“None, Guard-Captain,” one of the Guards said.
“Alright—you lot, come with me,” Aveline instructed her companions. She pulled her scarf up over her mouth and nose. “Try not to breathe the stuff.”
Fenris and Abigail likewise pulled scarves over their faces, and headed in. The smell was terrible, even with the scarves, and they all made an effort to try and breathe shallowly while they looked for the source of the gas. Abigail could keep most of the gas off of them with a powerful Barrier spell, but it wouldn't last forever, so they had to work quickly.
The gas was a sickly green color, and it could be found pumping from several barrels placed around the square.
“Someone’s been raiding the Merchant’s Guild,” Aveline said, breaking one of the pumps and leaning in to examine it.
“Dwarven work?” Fenris asked.
Aveline nodded. “Though I don’t think any dwarf did this.”
There were four barrels, and it took a long time to break all of the pumps. At last, however, they did.
Abigail gasped and leaned heavily against her quarterstaff, exhausted by the Barrier.
“Are you alright?” Aveline asked, lending her a skin of water.
Abigail nodded. “Fine,” she said.
“So, someone has come to stop my work,” an elf strode out onto a landing above their heads. She had wild blonde hair and enormous green eyes.
“If by 'work' you mean 'killing everyone in a city block,'” Abigail said, still trying to catch her breath. “Then yes.”
“Why did you do this?” Aveline demanded, stepping forward.
“It wasn't what I meant to do,” the elf said, looking around at the bodies. “These poor people...”
“What else could you possibly have been trying to do?” Abigail asked, spreading her arms.
“The mixture wasn't supposed to be a gas—it was supposed to be for that Qunari blasting powder!” the elf exclaimed.
“And how would that have been any better?”
“It would have destroyed the block, not poisoned it!”
“Well,” Fenris said. “It's good to know she's mad, I suppose.” he narrowed his eyes. “Where would you have gotten any Qunari recipe?” He asked.
Aveline cursed. “I bet it was that useless dwarven merchant—Tintop.”
“It was him,” the elf said. “But he sold me the wrong thing! Doesn't matter—it doesn't matter what you do, the Qunari will still be blamed!”
“And what do you care?” Abigail asked.
“The Qunari take my people!” the elf exclaimed. “They lose their culture, then go to the Qun for purpose!” she shook her head.
“Wait,” Aveline frowned. “Do you mean they convert, or that they are literally taken?” one of those was definitely illegal, the other was not.
“Converts,” the elf spat. “Willing to give up their families and their minds because they are lost otherwise!”
“I still don't see how that corresponds to you killing all these people,” Fenris said.
“Don't you see? If the Qunari are blamed, then they will have to leave! If they leave, they can't steal my people!”
“I’m uncertain if you've noticed, but the Qunari aren't exactly keen on leaving,” Abigail said.
“It's not just me that wants them out of here,” the elf said. “There's others too! Lots of people want them gone, and you should too!” she pointed at Abigail. “I saw you spell yourself and these others—you know what those scum do to mages!”
“This won't help,” Abigail insisted.
They argued with the elf some more before Aveline managed to get close enough to bind her hands and arrest her. She was still screaming and cursing as the Guards carted her away.
Aveline shook her head as they watched her go. “Fenris—you know Qunlat. Come with me, we're going to talk to the Arishok about this.”
“I'll come too,” Abigail said. “Since I was involved with the thing to begin with.”
“Should you not speak to the Viscount first?” Fenris asked Aveline. “This criminal is a citizen of Kirkwall.”
“And her poison came from the Qunari,” Aveline said. “They don't let people steal from them, and last time I heard, they weren't going to give Javaris Tintop their blasting powder. Something else must have happened.”
The Qunari compound was in the docks, a small collection of buildings now surrounded by spiked walls and covered in Qunari symbols.
The guards at the entrance weren't too keen on letting them inside at first, but once Aveline explained who she was, the Arishok deigned to see them.
The Arishok was enormous, even for a kossith. He was easily three feet taller than Aveline, his horns swooping back dramatically over his head. He was approximately the size of a barge, larger even than the other Qunari warriors.
“Arishok,” Aveline said. “Fenris, could you please introduce us?”
Fenris did so. The Arishok regarded Fenris with an unreadable expression.
“You are aware I speak Common, Guard-Captain,” the Arishok said, his voice deep and rumbling.
“I thought it best to have an interpreter,” Aveline said. “Perhaps we could avoid some of the misunderstandings we've had in the past.”
“If you have misunderstood, it is not due to an error of language.”
Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. Before she could say anything, Fenris spoke in Qunlat again, evidently explaining the situation.
The Arishok did not react. He responded to Fenris, also in Qunlat, and they had a back-and-forth for several moments.
“Aveline,” Fenris said when they were done.
“Yes?”
“The Qunari knew about the poison. The merchant you spoke of—Tintop? He could never buy it off of them, so he attempted to steal it.”
“We did not wish him to do this,” the Arishok said. “So we instead allowed him to steal the saar-qamek formula instead.”
“And you didn't think that was of the slightest importance to the Guard?” Aveline said through gritted teeth.
“We had assumed the thief would kill himself trying to replicate the formula,” the Arishok said. “We did not think him so rash as to start selling it immediately.”
Aveline closed her eyes. “Arishok,” she said. “The elf who used that formula was actively trying to make things worse between your people and the city—she knew you would be blamed for any deaths that occurred.”
“This is not our concern.”
“It is your concern!” Aveline snapped. Fenris made a gesture for quiet, and spoke in Qunlat to the Arishok again. The name 'Petrice' was mentioned.
The Arishok's expression grew darker.
“It is not our concern what bas think,” the Arishok said, switching back to Common again. “We cannot leave.”
“Why not?” Abigail asked.
The Arishok’s lip curled. “Something was stolen from us—not now, not the saar-qamek. A different item, one much more important, stolen years ago. And we cannot return until we have it back.”
“What is it?” Abigail asked. “Perhaps we can help you find it, then you could leave.”
The Arishok shook his head. “No.”
“You clearly don't want to be here,” Abigail said. “Maybe if we just--”
“Such an artifact is not for the eyes of bas,” the Arishok said with a scowl. “Already it has been polluted by thieves. We will find it ourselves.”
“You've been here for years,” Aveline said. “Why are you so sure it's even still here?”
“We search not only for the artifact, but for the thief,” the Arishok said. “This is our concern, not yours.”
The moment they left the compound and were out of sight of the Qunari, Aveline slammed her fist into a nearby wall.
“Every bloody way I turn, someone with too much power and not enough sense is blocking me,” Aveline snarled. “The Grand Cleric, and now the Arishok...”
“The Qunari can be persuaded,” Fenris said. “I am more concerned about what the Chantry might be doing.”
“Me as well,” Abigail said, her eyes narrowed.