Twisted Oaths ~ Lake Celestine: 9:43 Dragon (in progress)

Character Name: Myanna Tordra (current pseudonym, Kali Norek)
Race: Dwarf
Gender: Female
Faction/role: Ex-Carta, Freelance Knife-for-hire

Myanna pulled a small looking glass from her bag and frowned at her reflection. She'd been on the road for weeks, and was in sore need of a wash basin and a bed, but both of those things would have to wait. She'd spent weeks looking for signs of a lyrium shipment that had never made it to Val Royeaux, and she thought she'd finally found the remains of the caravan outside this town. She tucked the looking glass back into her bag, and her fingers brushed along the evidence she'd collected: a tattered coat with a dwarven crest on it -- used by lyrium traders, she knew -- and pieces of a broken flask with some chemical residue still clinging to it. She was anxious to examine the residue more closely, but a cursory inspection told her it was likely a spent stunning grenade. If so, she would then be on the hunt for lyrium thieves, but the site of the incident was so degraded that she'd found no hint of where they might have gone.

So, she needed news, and that meant checking at the chantry and the tavern. It would have to be the chantry first. Once she stepped into the tavern and had a mug of ale in her hands and a nice view of some serving girls, she would not want to move again for hours.

She got directions to the chantry and managed to decipher the horrible Orlesian accent that always seemed so much stronger outside of the major cities. Velun was pretty enough for Orlais, she supposed, but she didn't think she could ever look at the dainty woodwork, the climbing vines and the flowers, and feel home. Nothing had felt like home to her in years.

The chantry was mostly empty, but for a few humans praying and a sister pulling large books from a high shelf and covering herself with dust in the process. The sister, between sneezing and coughing, directed Myanna to an office at the back of the building. "I'm afraid --" *aaaachoo!* "-- I haven't seen an--" *hack hack* "--any foreign merchants --" *sniiiiiiff* "--lately!"

Myanna thanked her and left the woman to her wheezing.

She knocked on the door to the office. She heard cursing inside, followed by the sound of a chair scraping against a stone floor, and angry footsteps. A few very long seconds later, the door flew open. Standing in the doorway was presumably Sister Nenet, her forehead looking just a little bit shiny with sweat, and a smile plastered to her face. 

"What can I do for you?" she asked, a little too brightly.

Myanna held out her hand. Carefully. "My name is Kali Norek. I'm tracking a missing lyrium shipment and was hoping you might have some information to help me."

The sister's eyebrows rose just slightly as she shook Myanna's hand. "Come in, then." She picked up another chair and set it in front of her desk for Myanna, and then returned to her own seat. Myanna immediately noticed the shiny wet puddle of ink on the desk, and figured she knew what all the cursing had been about. 

"A lyrium shipment? From where?" Sister Nenet asked, her head tilting to the side. "I hope there is not a shortage of lyrium at one of Orlais's circles?"

"I have no idea. I was hired to find this shipment only, and I try not to ask unnecessary questions." Doing so tended to give her more problems to solve than answers, in any case. If Orlais was short on lyrium, she really couldn't give a damn.

"I'm sorry, but we don't keep a large supply of lyrium here in Velun. There is really no need, with Montsimmard just a boat ride away, so I ca--"

Nenet stopped herself as Myanna shook her head. "I found the remains of the caravan, I think. What I need is news. Local gossip. Any bands of thieves roaming around here? Attacks? Maybe disappearances? Anything that might give me a lead."

Nenet narrowed her eyes and stared at Myanna until Myanna almost felt like fidgeting. Nenet reached for a fresh sheet of parchment and a quill, but then stopped herself and instead handed Myanna a notice that had lain forgotten on the corner of her desk. "A dwarf came in earlier today with this. His brother is a merchant, and the entire caravan is late to arrive. They should have been here over a month ago, as the dwarf said. I assumed they'd been attacked by thieves or animals." She shrugged. "I'm sorry, I don't know if it was a lyrium shipment, but...maybe there is a connection. If it wasn't the same caravan, maybe they met the same fate. You will find the dwarf at the inn across the square and just around the corner. Ask for Bhegan."

Myanna quickly read the notice and handed the parchment back to Nenet.

"Thank you for stopping by...Kali Norek, was it? I will follow you out," Nenet said. "I promised Bhegan I would post his notice to the chantry board. I suppose, if it gives him hope..."

Once outside, Nenet pointed Myanna again to the direction of the inn, and Myanna walked away to the sound of the parchment being nailed to the chantry board.




GoldenGail3

The sound of hoofs caused Elaith to arise from her drunker stupor. The moment she opened her eyes she was greeted by the bright sun. Elaith winced and immediately shut her eyes. What happened last night was a blur to the elf, she remembered partying at a tavern somewhere..... Was it in a Orlais? It had to be, the air was permeating of stinky cheese and pretentiousness. With her eyes still shut Elaith tried to remember what else happened last night, she had a drinking contest against a Qunari, Tal- Vosoth he claimed. Countless drinks later Elaith managed to hold her alcohol or at least she thought she did. The Tal-Vosoth was on the ground, naked and singing something about the beauty nugs.

But what happened next..... Elaith could not recall. An intense pain overloaded Elaith's brain, causing the Elf to recoil and rub her temples. "Audril's nipples!" She cursed.

Elaith opened her eyes again, trying to adjust to the sunlight. Where was she, Elaith got up and began to observe her surroundings. She was inside a cart on its way to Elgarnon knows where, the cart had the stench of vomit speaking of which was in front her a yellowish goo with what Elaith swore there was peas in there. Elaith hated peas so it was surprising that she regurgitate it.

Which begs the question why she even eat it in the first place. Oh right she was drunk.

Elaith's bow: Teldalnadas laid on her left side undamaged. Thankfully it turns out Elaith was sober enough to take it with her. Right in front Elaith was a balding man driving the horses tunelessly humming a song.

"Hey!" Elaith shouted. "Where the hell am I going!"

The balding man turned around annoyed. "Oh, great you're finally awake!" He snorted in an Orelisian accent. "Are going to call me Shemlen scum who deserves to be fucked in the ass Fenharel? You're lucky that you paid me a lot of Soverigns, otherwise I would've thrown you out!"

Elaith was shocked at the accusation. "Woah! When did I say that?!" She said flabbergasted.

"All night!" The man yelled "You were at the Tavern buying drinks for everyone and dancing naked with a Qunari on top of a table! Yelling that you have a bigger dick than he does."

Elaith's eyes grew wide, she would never do that! The elf had to be truly hammered in order for her to do something so asinine! Elaith unconsciously checked herself, she's wearing armor. Now she hoped no one took advantage of her while she was in a drunken state. "Did I sleep with anyone!"

"No, you were kicked out, put on your clothes and went to me demanding that you go to the nearest village using the coin PLUS you even offered to suck my dick!"

"Okay now you're full of it!" Elaith laughed bewildered and amused.

"I don't take blowjobs from knife-ears. I mean no offense of course." The man said.

"Offense taken!" Elaith growled, now wanting to cut the man's tongue out.

"Bah were already here!" The man replied. "Now get the hell out!"

"Not without my money! I was drunk! You can't swindle money from a drunken person like that!"

"I just did. Now fuck off."

Elaith immediately drew out her longsword: Gir's best friend and held it to the man's throat "You're going to give me back my coin shem!"

"What's going on here?" A voice spoke from a distance. Two guards were approaching the horse cart. "Damn." Elaith said sheathing her sword.

"Get out of here." The driver said and Elaith did as she was told.

As she dropped off Elaith felt off balance for a few seconds. Her headache returned more painful than the last one. Elaith clutched her head falling to her knees. "Must've been a hell of a night." She thought.

"Elaith rose and slung Telnadas across her shoulders. Her quiver still had about 50 arrows left so at least there's that. But the Elf had no money and she was staring at the village that read: Welcome to Velum.

"Velum huh? Might as well go to the Chantry board." Elaith said to herself smacking her lips while rubbing her long hair.

As the Elf walked through the village, she felt an unease. As though people were paranoid about something, she attempted ask about what's going on. But she was rebuffed due to her status as an Elf. Angry, Elaith head straight to the Chantry board and read the first thing that came up. It was related to disappearing people lately. Elaith did hear about this, but dismissed it as simple kidnappings that were often left to the city guards.

Apparently this is widespread.

Elaith sighed and continued reading the offer. Time to do a good deed and get paid at the same time?

"Well yes." Elaith smiled to herself.

The notice said to head to the Chantry and talk to Sister Nenet for more details and Elaith, wasting little time headed there immediately. Elaith arrived at the Chantry. It was noticebly quiet with people praying and such. Elaith wasn't andrastian believing more in the Elven Gods taught to her by her father despite not being a Dalish Elf.

"Ah!" A voice behind Elaith said with calm. "Judging from your appearance I assume that you are here for the job."

Elaith immediately turned around and saw a Chantry sister smiling at her. "Well, yeah" she said.

"Well you're not the first to take the job. There are others all of them Dwarves. They'll in the Tavern a few block right." Sister Nenet said.

"Okay thank you" Elaith bowed and left the Chantry and headed towards the inn.

(@tzeenchianapostrophe)

Name: Ashara
Born 9:10 Dragon
Female Rogue Archer Dalish Elf and Ex-Grey Warden

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Part Two: The Second Day: Sunset

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The Third Day: Afternoon

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The Fourth Day: Afternoon

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The Fifth Day: Sunrise

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The 6th day: Evening

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{OOC: tagging @tzeenchianapostrophe for next post. I believe dragontartare is after?}

Helen sat on the window pane. Her song caught the attention of a raven that was flying overhead. The bird landed next to Helen, and Helen picked it up in her hands. The raven was carrying a message. Helen unfurled the note without breaking the seal. The message was from a rival bard. It told of missing lyrium shipments in the area. This was bad news. Helen did not like the idea of escalating conflict between mages and templars. 

Deftly imitating the handwriting, Helen added a postscript to the message. Then she resealed the note and fastened it to the raven's foot, before letting the bird continue its journey. The receiver of the message would have an interesting read.

It seemed like it would be best to do some more detective work before returning home. Helen left her room and headed downstairs. She heard the sound of someone scuffling and waited behind the door until things seemed to have calmed down.

The inn was bustling with people. Helen entered the common room and noticed a dwarf with casteless tattoo's. Maybe she's involved with the lyrium trade, Helen wondered. She sat down at the nearby table. The dwarf was joined by an elf. The elf started talking about a job. This might be relevant, Helen though and decided to keep listening.

The serving girl brought her a glass of wine and Helen tipped her a silver coin. Bards were safe on the countryside as long as they paid their way.

Thene was tired and sore. She derived some satisfaction from the deaths of those bandits, a larger group than she normally encountered. She frowned, “That was a surprise, they were well-armed and well-organized, more so than ususal. In my experience, once a group of thugs gets too big they begin to squabble among themselves for control or a share in the spoils. At least their leader, wherever he is, is missing a sizeable squad.” She shrugged and stopped speculating. She’d notify some guards, if she found any.

As she trudged along she kept an eye out for elfroot; she needed to make more potions and poultices since she was running low. She hated to admit that it was fortunate for her that the Grey Warden, Yanhel stopped to help. They were both heading west, he to the Western Approach and she because, why not? He didn’t say why he was going there and she respected his privacy. Maker knew she hated people prying into her affairs. Come to think of it, that was one good thing about Wardens; they had a reputation for being secretive so most people didn’t question them too closely, even as news about the events at Adamant became more widespread.

Now she was on her way to some small town called Velun. She hated being obligated to anyone, so when Yanhel asked her to deliver a message to a friend of his she quickly agreed to deliver it. He said he couldn’t delay going west any further, but he was concerned for his friend, some dwarf with a caravan. Yanhel said Velun was the most likely place to find the caravan; it was a frequent stopover for him. He also suggested she might be able to get a good deal on some supplies if she needed any.

Thene wanted food, a bath, a bed, and to find the dwarf caravan guy, not necessarily in that order. She decided to make the Chantry her first stop, if the Chantry busybodies didn’t know anything then maybe the tavern keeper did. It was a plan, anyway. Once inside she made a beeline for the one sister who seemed both intelligent and concerned. In Thene’s opinion, worried people talked more and she didn’t have the patience for small talk. “Sister,” she got the woman’s attention, “I’m looking for a dwarf.”

“Excuse me?” Sister Nenet blinked at the dirty, weary, oddly belligerent woman in front of her.

“I mean,” Thene bit back a sigh, “I’m looking for a particular dwarf. He has a caravan and I was told he would probably be in Velun. You chantry people seem to know everything, especially in small places like this, so I’m asking if you know where I can find him. I have to deliver a letter to him.”

Nenet was a bit offended, but more concerned – if this letter concerned Bhegan’s brother . . . “I am not sure I know the person you seek. However, you will find a dwarf named Bhegan at the tavern. I suggest you read his notice on the Chantry board and then find him. I fear he might be able to help you. Other interested parties are also there.”

“Well, I was going to the tavern anyway,” Thene sighed and moved on. She entered the tavern and looked around. She saw dwarves, elves and humans, some of them were as travel-stained as she assumed she looked. She went straight to the innkeeper. “I want a room, food, bath, and Bhegan,” she said grumpily.

“Popular fellow, I thought he would be but he’s not down yet. You’ll have to wait. If you have coin, the rest is yours.”

Thene stared at the woman, “Fine, that’s just the way my luck is going. Maybe the bugger will be down before I finish eating. Doubt it, though,” she added to herself. For half a second it looked like the innkeeper’s mouth twitched, but Thene figured she was seeing things. She spotted a small table against the wall and quickly claimed it. She looked around and wondered who the other ‘interested parties’ were.

When the server deposited food on her table she ignored everybody else in the room. The stew smelled more than wonderful, it smelled like home; it brought back memories of her mother, long gone to the Maker or wherever. She took a healthy bite and for just a minute pretended she was a girl again and everything was normal. She sighed and caught the server’s wrist and then whistled, a piercing whistle to get the innkeeper’s attention. She held up a silver and put it in the waitress’ hand, “For the chef.” She let the woman go and concentrated on her dinner until there wasn't even a drop of stew left in the bowl. Thene, more comfortable now, wrapped up some of the bread and sausage for later. While waiting for Bhegan to show, she nibbled on an apple and sipped her ale. And studied the others in the room, looking for possible trouble.


Edmund post recovered

Character Name: Myanna Tordra (current pseudonym, Kali Norek)
Race: Dwarf
Gender: Female
Faction/role: Ex-Carta, Freelance Knife-for-hire


(Collab Part 1 of 3)


“Hey!” Myanna and the serving woman yelled simultaneously, Myanna with anger and the serving woman with shock. The serving woman lunged abruptly, reaching toward the stolen food, but her foot caught on Myanna’s chair and the woman tumbled to the floor.

Myanna, not entirely unselfishly, leapt up to help her. “Are you alright?” she asked once the woman was on her feet and brushing off her skirts. Myanna managed to restrain herself from helping with that particular task.

The serving woman smiled at her, looking so sweet that Myanna had to smile back, despite the very recent turn in her mood. “Yes, thank you. I will bring you another helping of food,” she said, turning then to scowl at the elf, “and I will fetch the innkeep to deal with her.”

Myanna nodded at her with another smile and watched her walk away for a moment, vaguely aware that the elf was jabbering on, before...

"I'm very sorry!" Elaith shouted.

Myanna scowled and whipped her head back around to the elf, who was pushing the stolen meal back in her direction.

“Ancestors' flaming testicles!” she said, plopping back into her seat a bit more roughly than her bottom would have liked. “Do I look like a charity to you? I paid for that food!”

The elf’s face had turned bright red. "Yeah that's what I thought!" Elaith blubbered out. "I'll tell you what not only I'll pay you ba--”

Elaith stopped abruptly, slapping her hand to her face. Myanna rolled her eyes. She’d dealt with more than one irresponsible layabout in her career, and she had a feeling she knew where this was going.

She wasn’t disappointed.

“Audrill's nipples,” Elaith said, sheepishly. “I don't have coin, I took the job so I can replenish my purse. I'm a good hunter and cook, I could go and make you the soup. Is that a good tradeoff?!”

Myanna huffed. A meal someday, maybe, hypothetically...traded for coin and food right now. Only her uncle Kallax had ever fallen for a deal like that, and he’d been hit in the head with an ax when he was a child.

“Are you joking, or still drunk? I can kill furry woodland creatures and cook them for myself. I bought soup at an inn because I'd like to spend a night or two indoors, where it's dry and warm.” She looked around the room quickly and spotted the serving woman talking animatedly to the innkeeper a short distance away. The serving woman was gesturing to the two of them, and the innkeeper was quickly becoming blotchy-faced with anger. Myanna decided she didn’t want to stick around to watch her explode on the elf, amusing as it might prove to be. She pushed her chair back again and started to stand. “Besides,” she said to Elaith, “I didn't survive this long by giving up gold to elves with poor impulse control. You're on your own with the innkeeper.”

Elaith looked genuinely worried, but Myanna had already begun to walk away from the table. "L-listen we can work this out....." Elaith stammered to her.

But Myanna did not get far before she saw a woman approach her from the side. Better to pretend she didn’t see her, honestly. She wanted to get away from this room just for a little while, just until Elaith received her dressing-down from the innkeeper, and then Myanna would return for her replacement meal.

The newcomer tapped her shoulder. Myanna sighed loudly and rounded on her.

The newcomer withdrew her hand.

“Please, mistress dwarf,” the woman said. “This day is too beautiful for petty arguments.” She turned to the serving woman, who was now gesturing furiously at a stain on her skirt while the innkeeper patted her arm. “Put this woman and her companion on my tab,” she told the serving woman, “and bring them something good. Do not worry Harriet with this. I have it under control.”

The serving woman and the innkee-- Harriet (she looked like a Harriet) --watched the newcomer return to Myanna. Harriet threw up her hands in the universal ‘I give up’ gesture and summoned the serving woman back to the kitchen with a jerk of her thumb.

“Would you let me sit with you?” the newcomer said to Myanna. “You seem like an interesting person. There is something I would very much wish to talk to you about.”

Myanna looked the woman up and down. She was pleasant enough to look at, she supposed, but much daintier than Myanna usually preferred. The woman was wearing a colorful dress and had a coin pouch hanging from her neck...right there, where just anyone could see it and grab it. Myanna kept her most important possessions -- her own coin purse, and her small cipher book where she recorded all of her pseudonyms and alter egos, as well as their associations, in a code that only she knew -- physically close to her and hidden from casual view at all times. It was difficult for someone to pickpocket what they didn’t know was there.

Then again, it was possible that this woman had more coin hidden away somewhere, and that this pouch was a decoy for pickpockets. Myanna had seen that done before -- even done it herself once, when she was posing as a much wealthier woman than she really was.

So...was this woman wealthy? Or merely pretending to be?

Myanna shrugged and returned to her seat. “Fine, color me intrigued.”

The woman smiled, looking relieved. “Stone-met, Mistress Dwarf, and Mythal'enaste, Mistress Elf.” She curtsied, which surprised Myanna. She hadn’t thought the woman was Orlesian. Perhaps she just wanted to blend in with the locals? That was a practice Myanna could respect, even if she didn’t always do so herself. “I would very much like to sit with you for a while. Not to presume, but I had this inkling your conversation might be interesting to me.”

The woman grasped her coin purse then and rattled its contents. Myanna raised an eyebrow. Clearly, the woman intended to buy information...that, or she had some she wanted to sell, but intended first to lure her new acquaintances with promise of coin. Either way, Myanna considered herself lured. “Have a seat, then,” she told the woman, holding out a hand for her to shake. “I’m Kali Norek.”

The woman shook her hand. “Helen. Delighted to make your acquaintance.”

Elaith, for her part, was staring at Helen with wide-eyed amazement. "Please ma’am!" she said "You're too kind, but this is my burden to bear. I owe this Dwarf a lot!"

“Nonsense, my dear,” said Helen. “Are we not all sisters in this world?” She looked up and down at Elaith’s armor and weapons, apparently approving of what she saw, at least outwardly. “You look like someone whose good side I would like to be on. Please, accept this. It is nothing.”

"I thank you!” said the high-strung elf. “My name is Elaith! Though I believe I already said my name already! Elganahn I think I have short-term memory!"

Myanna pinched the bridge of her nose. The elf’s boisterous -- and clearly still drunk, or else addled in some other fashion -- nature was going to give her a headache. She sighed. “Well, now that we've all decided I'm owed something -- and I'm definitely not going to argue against that -- what is it that you want to know, Helen?”

Helen sat. “I hoped you could put my mind at ease,” she said, quietly. “A friend of mine told me that a lyrium shipment has been raided. Such a thing would be most unfortunate, seeing the tension between the Circle and the College of Enchanters. People yearn for peace. We do not need any more trouble. Kali, my friends and I worry so.”

Myanna frowned, thinking of the torn coat and spent grenade that she’d found at the site of the caravan’s disappearance. While she wasn’t privy to every scrap of information involving the lyrium trade, she still found it hard to believe that a second lyrium shipment could have gone missing from this little town inside a month. “I've been tracking a lyrium shipment, myself,” she said, matching Helen’s low volume. “Trail vanished just outside town. Looks to be thieves, maybe, or animals, but I haven't finished examining the evidence. Think it could be the same one?”

Helen arched a haughty eyebrow, reminding Myanna again of every human noble she’d had the displeasure of meeting. They all had this look about them. “Thieves or animals?” Helen said, dismissively. “Would that be clever thieves or lyrium eating animals. My dearest Kali, this is a lyrium shipment. It is not a trifle…” She broke off to take a deep breath and Myanna rolled her eyes. “You are already investigating this? On behalf of someone, I presume. Would you not say two employers would be better than one?”

Myanna snorted. It was hardly a secret that lyrium was stolen sometimes, though this was the first time she knew of that so little else had been left behind. In the past, she had always found a merchant or two left at the scene. Or at least part of a merchant.

“Lady, if you or your employer think that lyrium caravans are somehow immune from thieves, then I'm not so sure that two employers are better than one. Fact is, lyrium can get stolen like anything else.” She leaned in closer so she could lower her voice further. “You're aware there's a nice black market for the stuff, right? It's a little unusual for the theft to happen topside, but what we've got outside town are the remains of a lyrium merchant's caravan ground into the dirt, with no lyrium and no merchants in sight. There weren't many clues left lying around at all, but I picked up a few interesting things that I could let you see, if we can strike a deal.”

The smell of hot soup and warm bread hit Myanna’s nostrils, and she looked up to see the serving woman bringing their meals over. Myanna smiled at her, and received a smile in return that sent a warm rush through her chest. Helen put a coin into the woman’s hand without so much as looking at her.

“Good,” said Helen. “I can see you are on top of things. You have handled these kinds of investigations many times before, yes? My group of concerned citizens would of course pay more than your current employer, thereby earning ourselves the right to see all your findings first. That is only fair, yes?”

Myanna barked a humorless laugh. Yes, she could just imagine double-crossing the blood-thirsty Divine by handing over all her evidence to nobles who were loose with their coin. Granted, it was unlikely that the Divine would want to see the evidence first-hand anyway -- murdering dissenters probably wore her out by the end of the day -- and Myanna had no intention of giving her evidence to the chantry grunts in any case. They would pay her regardless, as long as she solved the crime.

But there was no need to tell Helen that. Let the woman think she was getting a privilege. She put on the face of someone who had just made a difficult decision and took a deep breath. “I've spent most of my adult life doing these sorts of investigations, yes. It's odd that this one left behind so few clues, though.” She nodded once. “I can let you have a look at the evidence, if the coin is good. After we eat. I think I'm hungry enough that this table is starting to look appetizing.”

The last part, at least, was completely true. Myanna reached out for the bread and tore off a hearty chunk.



Tagging smilesja for part 2.

As they were leaving the common room, Helen spotted an unlikely pair sharing a table. A Dalish elf - this one had facial markings - and a large, burly warrior. Helen looked over at Elaith. Meeting one Dalish elf was a surprise. Seeing two of them in the same room was close to being suspicious. The tattooed elf had a much darker complexion than Eliath, so it could be that they were from different clans. Elaith did not appear to have taken any notice of her kinswoman, nor she of her.

Helen shrugged and hurried after her newfound partners up to the first floor. She found Kali on her hands and knees, busy disabling the traps protecting her room. Helen was astonished at how much work Kali had put into protecting her belongings. She could not decide if it was prudence or paranoia.

Kali eventually got back on her feet after having dissembled the last of her implements of death. “Either of you try anything, you might not be around long enough to regret it. Got it?" The dwarf looked at Helen and the Elaith. “And… don't touch anything in there.”

Helen nodded and folded her hands, communicating her compliance.

Kali nodded approvingly at Helen before turning to Elaith with a frown. “Well?” Kali snapped her fingers at the elf’s nose. “You paying attention or not?”

“Yeah I am, Kali,” the elf assured her. “People have always told me I have eyes of rodent…… or maybe they’re insulting me. I’m not really sure! But I’ll be fine!”

Helen smiled to herself. The elf reminded her vaguely of an old friend.

“...uh-huh.” Kali gave the elf a discerning look before stepping into the room. “You can sit on the bed, if you want. It oughta be deloused by now.”

Helen entered the room behind the others, closed the door and leaned against its frame. She kept her head slightly turned, so she could hear anyone coming into the corridor outside. This room was not as clean as her own. A recently deloused bed did not sound inviting. Furthermore, one should always keep close to the exit when meeting new people.

Kali began picking items out of a bag and handing them to Helen for her perusal. Helen recoiled in horror when Kali tried to pass her a dirty old coat, but reconsidered when she saw the crest of the Dwarven Merchant’s Guild on its back. Though the tattered thing had seen better days, the artwork was mostly intact.

“This is beautiful,” Helen remarked. “Could you separate the crest from the coat for me, please? I wouldn’t mind having a look at it.”

Kali took the coat back and smirked. “Afraid of a little dirt, my lady?” She reached into her pocket for a small utility knife and carefully cut the threads holding the crest to the coat. She threw the coat into the corner and held the crest out to Helen.

“I’m not a lady, dear Kali,” Helen said as she took the crest and held it up to the light. “Thank you,” she said with real warmth in her voice. “Would you be offended if I asked to keep it?”

Kali smiled innocently. “Aren’t you? You remind me of...well, nevermind.” She shrugged. “I can sell the crest to you, if you want it that badly. I’d planned to trade it after the investigation, but coin’s coin. I’ll even give you a discount, since it’s filthy.”

“There are no ladies in a place like this,” Helen said. “Did you think poor little Helen strayed here from her father’s castle?” Helen examined the crest again. “I must say I am shocked that you would extort your benefactor for such a petty trinket.” She sighed and handed the crest back to Kali. “You keep it, dear. By the way, did you ever work for the Merchant’s Guild?”

“Extort? You’re a delicate flower, aren’t you? Asking to be paid for goods isn’t extortion, it’s business. I didn’t ask for your coin at supper, either. You forced it on me.” Kali winked impishly, forcing a giggle from Helen.

“Nonsense,” Helen said in mock offence. “Helen could not possibly force anything on you, could she? The delicate flowers are the prettiest, though, no? Though there is a charm to the hardy birch, I suppose.”

Elaith giggled. Helen gave the elf an overbearing smile. “And we have a wildflower,” Helen said. “Exotic flora, indeed.”

Kali put the crest back into her bag. Helen gazed over the dwarf’s shoulder. It was a pretty bauble, but Helen reminded herself that her money was not her own and there was a limit to how many treasures she could drag back to Val Royeaux with her.

“I do work for the Merchant’s Guild, sometimes,” Kali said as she carefully lifted some broken shards out of her bag. “I’ve had a variety of employers over the years.” Helen felt a strong chemical smell from the pieces Kali held up. “The glass definitely comes from a stunning grenade,” Kali explained, “but I smell something else on it that I don’t recognize. See what you can do with it.”

Helen took a few of the shards from Kali and held them up to her nose. “Oh yes,” she sighed. “That is strong.” She giggled. “I better pull back if I want to avoid a hangover tomorrow.” Helen felt her cheeks flushing. “You are right, Kali,” she said. “There is something caught on the glass…” Helen held up one of the shards and stared at it. The fumes from the grenade was making her eyes water, but she was able to make out a few faint stains. It was hard to separate the smell, especially when she was feeling so dizzy, but it was there. A manifested demon had touched the shards and left some of its ectoplasm behind. Helen dropped the shards on the floor. “I am so sorry,” she said. “My eyes are burning and I am being very clumsy.” She smelled her fingers. “I need to clean my hands. They smell like a laboratory.”

“Lemme take a sniff at it.” Elaith said and picked up some of the fallen glass. “Mythal’s mercy! Smells like a Halla’s behind,” she cried. “I think I recognize one of the ingredients though. This looks like it came from a plant that is native to Antiva. It’s pretty rare, though, as it is used to make powerful grenades and poisons.”

Kali took the shard from Eliath and sniffed it. “Antivan? I make stunning grenades of my own, but I’ve never used an Antivan plant to brew the potion. Never even heard of that, to be honest. There can’t be that many merchants who sell it.” She put the shard down. “That’s good. That should make it easier to track who got a hold of this stuff and get us some suspects.”

Helen was trying to rub out a headache. “There is something else, too,” she mumbled.

Kali raised an eyebrow. “...Yes? What is it?”

Helen sighed. “Demons,” she said. “A demon has touched that glass.”

“Ancestors’ balls!” Kali did a jump backwards and pressed against the wall.

Helen rolled her eyes at Kali. “Not just now. When the caravan was attacked. The glass is perfectly safe.”

Kali relaxed her posture slightly but gave Helen a sidelong look. “You say that now, but you dropped the glass after you smelled it.” She leaned forward and peered at the glass. “How do you know it was touched by demons?”

“Of course I dropped it,” Helen said. “If I had sniffed any more of that stuff I would have spent the rest of the night in the corner staring at the pattern on the wallpaper.” Her voice was somewhat slurred. “There is nothing quite like demon residue in this world. That is definitely it.”

Kali nudged the glass with her boot. “One day, I want to hear the story of how a nobleman’s bard learned about demon residue.”

At first Helen frowned, but then she laughed. The drug had made her giddy. “Hey,” she exclaimed. “You are not supposed to say.” It was poor etiquette to call out a bard, but allowances had to be made for a carta dwarf, Helen supposed. “I could tell you two stories. One would be a boring story about a girl locked in her room with her books and her little potions. The other would be about a feisty slayer of dragons and demons. I hope you pick the latter.”

Kali grinned. “I think we’ll probably have time for both stories, with this investigation. At least we have something to start with.” She sighed and sat down on the bed, looking thoughtful. “There’s a job on the chantry board, posted by a dwarf named Bhegan. He’s looking for his brother, a lyrium merchant. Was supposed to meet his brother here in town weeks ago, and never made it. The timing and location both coincide with the missing lyrium shipment that I’m investigating. I hadn’t gotten to talk to Bhegan yet, but I think we need to…” She looked out the window at darkness outside. “...but maybe first thing in the morning. If there are demons involved here, I’m not keen on traipsing around town after dark. Not until we have more information, anyway.

“Good, good,” Helen mumbled. “I need to find my room. I think I am a little drunk.”

“Probably wise,” Kali said. “I know humans and elves can’t hold their liquor.” Helen thought she could see her holding back a laugh.

“Ha ha ha,” Helen said, sounding out each word slowly. “Don’t leave the tavern without me,” she added as she stumbled out the room.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Kali shouted after her. I refuse to go anywhere without coffee and breakfast, anyway.” Kali snapped her fingers at Elaith again. “What about you? You meeting us in the morning?”

Helen counted the number of doors back to her room. Fitting her key into the lock required a little fidgeting. She should probably try to write a letter to her patron before she went to bed. The buzz she was experiencing would wear off in a couple of minutes. She just had to wait for it to pass. Helen sat down on her bed. The lids on her eyes were so heavy. The wallpaper pattern reminded her of the lines of that beautiful crest. Maybe she should try to draw it while it was still vivid in her mind. Where did she put her pen?

She was fully dressed when she awoke eight hours later...

Helen came out from her room the next morning looking very different than she had the night before. Her long curls were done up and tucked out of the way. She had swapped her gown for a shirt and trousers. A tight vest hugged her tiny waist, proving that this was indeed a woman’s body. A skirt with a slit gave this practical outfit a feminine flair.

The ground floor was mostly empty. Kali was sitting by herself, eating porridge. The smell of freshly cooked coffe entered Helen’s nostrils. One of the serving girls noticed her and came running over with a cuppa.

“Thank you, dearest,” said Helen. “Has the elf I spoke to yesterday been down here?”

“No,” the serving girl answered. “I have not seen her. The other one - with the tattoos - left a little while ago.”

Helen slipped the girl a coin. “Make sure the fresh faced elf finds our table when she comes down. Do not let her leave.”

Helen walked across the room, enjoying the smell rising from the cup in her hands. Kali looked up from her porridge as she approached.

“Miss Norek,” Helen greeted her. “How does the morning find you?”

Kali downed some of her coffee. “Bright and cheery, just like every morning,” she said in a disinterested tone. “Our dwarf left here at dawn to go to the chantry, apparently. Devout Andrastian fellow that he is.”

Helen offered herself a seat opposite Kali. “Oh. Is there a service this morning? I have been a little busy since I got here.”

Kali nodded affirmingly. “According to the serving girls, yes. I wouldn’t know. Seems to me Andrastians are always praying.”

Helen pretended to be embarrassed. “Oh, sorry. You worship … I mean you remember your ancestors?”

Kali laughed. “Mostly I blaspheme in their names.”

“Aaaw. No, why would you do that?” Helen asked. “Where you not happy with where they left you?”

Kali’s smile faded somewhat. “I… well” Her smile returned but it did not reach her eyes. “...I’m happy enough. It’s not about that. I’ve got plenty of coin and I get to see the world, and I don’t have to worry about my ancestors being disappointed in me.” She poured some more syrup into her porridge and began stirring it restlessly. “We’ve been casteless for generations, see? My ancestors were never returned to the stone, so I’m free to live my surfacer life without their judgement. Orzammar doesn’t realize how bad they’ve got it.”

Helen put the syrup bottle a little distance from Kali. “I get that,” she said. “You left Orzammar and became your own woman. That is not something everyone can do.” She paused and took out a piece of parchment. “Do you think… would it be terribly rude of me to ask … do you think I could make a drawing of your casteless tattoos?”

Kali started. “Why would you want to do that?”

Helen realised she needed to play this cool. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to offend. It is just that they are very beautiful. Dwarven art is all about straight lines and sharp angles. It is very different from what we have here in Orlais.”

Kali frowned. “I don’t suppose I could stop you. But they are very personal, Helen.” She gave an uncomfortable laugh. “I’d better not see them appearing on women’s dresses all over Orlais. Can you imagine the embarrassment? Just think, I show up to a fancy Orlesian party, and my face is all over some poofy frock. It’d be worse than showing up in the same dress, Helen.”

Helen had already started outlining the triangle on Kali’s brow. “I promise,” she said. “I never wanted to be a fashion designer. My current profession is much safer.”

Kali smiled and pointed her spoon at the empty seat. “Any idea if that elf is joining us? She oughta be sober by now. We need to get going once you’ve eaten.”

Helen remembered that she was hungry and snapped her fingers at the serving women. They started moving immediately. It had only taken her a week to turn this dirty tavern into her own little palace. “I did not see her coming down,” Helen said. “Do you know her at all? She must be very young not to have her Vallaslin. I spotted another of the people here last night.” Helen leaned forward to see the underside of Kali’s chin.

Kali tilted her head back slightly. “It does seem unusual to have so many Dalish in this small town. But no...I don’t know Elaith. She invited herself to my supper table...and to my supper...by way of introduction.”

“Ah, I see.” Helen bit her lip. “Kali, should we perhaps have checked who she was before starting our discussion last night? I mean, I assumed she was an associate of yours, at first.”

“Ideally, I’d know both of your deepest secrets.” Kali smirked and pushed the rest of her porridge to the side. “I know little more about you than I know about her, though, and I think you can say the same about me.” She shrugged. “She did mention something about the chantry board, I think, so she’s interested in the same job that we are.”

Helen realised that Kali was looking over her shoulder. The auburn beauty was not used to being ignored this way. The dwarf was blushing and fiddling with her hair. “To be honest with you,” Kali finally said. “I was a little...distracted by the serving woman while the elf was talking to me. That’s not usually like me, but… there it is.”

Helen was immediately excited. She had begun feeling like a sister to the girls and women at the tavern. “Oh? Which one?” she exclaimed, staring over at each of the potentials in turn. “Do you want me to introduce you?”

Kali gaped. “Oh, I...no. It’s alright,” she stammered. “We’re going to be pretty busy for a while. No time for wooing girls now.” She emptied her cup. “Maybe some other time.”

One of the serving women came over to the table. She put a bowl of porridge in front of Helen. Kali seemed unsure of where to look. Helen grinned.

“Of course, of course. Business first,” Helen said. “So, Kali, could you promise me to help keep an eye on Elaith. It is a boon to have one of the people with us, but we should be careful of all those we associate with.” She started eating her porridge without adding any syrup.

Kali smiled kindly. “Oh, I’ll be keeping an eye on both of you.”

“Splendid!” Helen exclaimed. “This could be quite exciting. I am happy to have some backup for once.”

“Likewise,” Kali responded. “Do we leave as soon as you’ve eaten?”

“No,” Helen said, shaking her head. “We are taking Elaith with us. I will feel safer if we all keep together for the time being.”

The pair sat together in silence as Helen finished her food. The bard observed her dwarven companion as she ate. Kali was more pleasant company than expected. Helen noticed that she kept herself surprisingly well groomed for a casteless dwarf on the road. Pride in one’s appearance speaks well of one’s character, especially in those of the common people. Helen fancied Kali a noble barbarian - wild but honorable - like the heroes in the old epic poems.

Time passed and there was still no sign of Elaith. Helen grabbed the arm of a serving woman that was passing by her. “Alizée, sweetie,” she purred, “could you be a darling and go tell our young elven friend to come down.”

The woman hurried up the stairs. A few moments later she came back down. “The elf refused to open her door,” she said. “She said she was hung over, but that she would catch up with you later.”

Helen smiled. “Thank you, Alizée. Do you know, Kali here was just telling me that she is a great admirer of Orlesian folk songs. I of course told her that the sweetest songstress in Velun was to be found working in this very tavern. We will likely be leaving town, soon, but I am sure you would not mind entertaining my friend when she gets back.”

“Of course not,” the woman stammered. “It would be an honour.”

Helen put a coin in the woman’s palm. “Splendid. Just make sure to keep doing those exercises I showed you. I want Kali to hear Lion’s Lament, and you know your fingers need a little more flexibility. All right, dear. Run along now. Harriet needs you and Kali and I have business elsewhere.”

Warrior/brawler

Thanks to the stew, Thene was in a good mood despite not seeing Bhegan. She couldn’t help noticing the trio of women, “Three women - an elf, a dwarf, and a human all meet at an inn . . . sounds like the beginning to a bad joke. Huh, if that’s where my mind is going I might as well go up to bed since waiting down here for Bhegan looks like a waste of time. I’ll catch him first thing in the morning.” She gathered her things and climbed the stairs.

She noticed that the last door down the hallway was open and remained open while she headed to her own room. She saw the shadow of a woman on the floor; the woman just standing there. The shadow was still and no others joined it. Nor did Thene hear any suspicious noises so she slowly relaxed and entered her bedchamber. She wasted no time locking her door and otherwise securing her room.

“Good,” she thought when she saw the large pot of hot water by the fire as she requested, “that will be more than enough to steep the elfroot I have.” She practically pushed it into the fire in order to bring the water to a boil before removing a smaller pot, rather like a large teapot, from her gear. She bruised some of her elfroot leaves, cut the stems into smaller pieces, and placed them in the bottom of the teapot close enough to the fire to stay warm through the night. Then, when the water boiled, she carefully poured it over the elfroot until the teapot was full. Others prepared their elfroot potions differently, but she preferred to let it steep over heat, in this case near it, for several hours before pouring the resulting very strong solution into small vials. She’d leave the sludge in the bottom of the teapot in case she needed to make a poultice.

Finally, she removed her clothes and added them to the dirty laundry bag, which she then gave to the young maidservant. Now she was free to take advantage of the warm bath waiting just for her. As far as Thene was concerned, the baths were the best thing Orlais had to offer. The water cooled a great deal while Thene languished. She didn’t mind being on the road, for one thing, she didn’t have to be around as many people, but she treasured the times when she could indulge in a good soak. She dried herself on the fluffy towel provided, slipped into clean small clothes and an oversize shirt, and crawled into the soft bed. She fell asleep instantly.

Thene woke up early and stretched. She strolled to the window, pleased to see it looked like it would be a sunny day, and pulled out her one set of clean clothes. She decided she wouldn’t need full armor to go to the Chantry and added only the long leather vest she used as light armor. After making sure nobody would enter the room safely while she was gone, she went downstairs.

“Another early riser,” the innkeeper’s husband greeted her. He brought her a hearty breakfast of porridge, bacon, eggs, toast and coffee.

“Thank you,” Thene said politely while her stomach rumbled approvingly. “Has Bhegan come down yet? I waited but didn’t see him last night. Oh, and could I get a glass of milk, please?”

The husband looked surprised at her request but nodded agreeably and left to fulfill her order. The innkeeper shook her head, “Bhegan was up even earlier than you. He went to the Chantry. There’s no need for you to rush off, he’s only ever here or there.”

Thene decided there was no point wasting breakfast, especially if it was as good as the stew she had for dinner. However, she didn’t linger as the food deserved, and was striding towards the Chantry a short time later. She looked around, but didn’t see anyone who could possibly be Bhegan. To her surprise, she did see a Dalish woman and wondered what she could possibly be doing in the Chantry. “None of my business,” she shrugged and asked the nearest sister if Bhegan had arrived.

“The dwarf? He is with Sister Nenet in her office, messere. You are more than welcome to join us in prayer while you wait for him. Morning services will soon begin,” she informed Thene with a quiet smile.

Thene sighed and thanked her. She was getting tired of having to be so polite all the time. After ascertaining where Nenet’s office was, she sat down as close as she could get to the door and waited. “It’s peaceful here,” she gazed up at the statue of Andraste, the most integral part of every Chantry she ever stepped foot in. “The larger ones, like Denerim or Val Royeaux, they might be grander but they don’t have the same, I suppose serenity is as good a word as any, as small ones such as this. They’re a good place to come and think when nobody else is around.”

More people straggled in. Thene kept track in a vague sort of way. She recognized two of the bad joke cabal, the dwarf and the human, and wondered if they were also here for Bhegan. She narrowed her eyes slightly and braced herself. The minute Nenet’s door opened she was up and moving. “Bhegan,” she barked before the poor man could take two steps. The Dalish woman and the man with her also stood, but they weren’t there for the dwarf; they went into the office when Nenet motioned them inside. She also motioned to somebody behind Thene, but Thene didn’t care as long as it didn't involve her.

“You are Bhegan, aren’t you?” Thene asked more softly. He nodded. She felt sorry for the dwarf; he looked a pitiful mess. She kept her pity to herself but continued to talk softly. “You have a brother, Rhagan, who is some sort of merchant?”

“You have news of my brother?” Bhegan asked hopefully. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know. Does your brother know somebody named Yanhel?” she asks, hoping the answer is a giant ‘no.’

“The Warden?” Bhegan frowned in confusion. “Yeah, why?”

“Crap,” Thene muttered, “I have a message from him for your brother Rhagan.” She showed it to him.

“Rhagan, we’ve had trouble getting lyrium for our mages - three of our shipments were stolen. The thieves left no survivors, not even their bodies. This last time, we had Wardens as extra guards but this did not prevent an attack. These thugs, they looked like templars, but were probably disguises. Many of us are uneasy, but have no time to investigate. I hope this gets to you before you trouble does. The path you walk is more dangerous than usual. Be careful, my friend.

Yanhel”

Thene turned around, “Did you get all that? Do ya need me to repeat something?” she snapped at the people eavesdropping behind her.



@tzeenchianapostrophe, phoray

Edmund had given Ashara a look when she'd asked to be left alone but she shoved that to the back of her mind as the Sister stepped round back behind her desk.

When Ashara didn't immediately speak, the Sister sat down and then prodded her. "Well?"

Ashara came closer, standing behind the chair that Edmund had vacated. 'Elgar'nan, give me strength.'

"One week ago, I stopped for trade with the Elvhen in the Frostback foothils of Ferelden. The clan's Third had gone missing." The sister's expression didn't change. "The clan thought nothing of it- the area is dangerous; Avaar, the terrain, humans' usual feelings towards the Dalish." Ashara's lip curled a little bit with that comment, but she continued. "I traveled west into Orlais with intent to visit Halamshiral but was kept from entering." Ashara looked carefully for any reaction, but saw only mild surprise on the Sister's part. Very well then.

"From the mouth of those who barred me from entering, the elves of the city were upset due to disappearances in the slums." The Sister's reaction to that news was her brows knitting together. Ashara paused, confused at that. Did this woman know nothing after all?... but no. No, she had been quite keen on Ashara being there since they'd locked eyes in the hall. She would not falter now.

"I continued my travels," Ashara said, starting to pace the small office slowly, looking but not looking at the books lining the shelves. "And three days later, I encountered another group of the Elvhen, traveling near the Imperial Highway in broad daylight. I signaled them and we met." She stopped her pacing and again faced the sister.

"Many of the Dalish have been taken, Nenet, many of our mage leadership specifically. All the clans within a hundred miles of Lake Celestine have been struck, and struck by the same enemy, one and all."

Nenet felt a sinking feeling in her gut, and it showed on her expression. Calmly, as if merely looking for confirmation, she asked, "And that enemy was?"

The clock in the room chimed once to mark the time.

Ashara pulled her crossbow quickly, pointing it directly at the sister.  Nenet had not been blind to the rising tension and a blade was already in one hand, although she was at a mild disadvantage behind a desk, in a chair. She'd closed to heavy door for her privacy, heavy and thick, and unlikely to allow all but the loudest of noises past it. Stepping sidewise to place herself more between the door and the woman, maintaining her aim all the while, Ashara grimaced. betrayal was an unfamiliar feeling.

"Templars came and took elves; most likely those from the city and those of the Elvhen. Repeatedly, and with purpose, targeting the wisest and most powerful of us to weaken those left behind. I followed their trail here, to Velun, to find answers."

"And you would kill for those answers?" Nenet asked, her words sharp, her features tight and angry.

Ashara took a deep breath. Tightening her finger slightly on the trigger, her tone underscored her own righteous anger. "I would kill to save the Elvhen from a war they cannot win."

Nenet was so shocked the grip on her dagger waned and her eyes widened.

"Maker!" She exclaimed in a harsh whisper. Moments passed and the sister shook her head as if to shake her emotions away. "I see, now, why you have come. And I forgive you for the rudeness of pulling a weapon on me in my own office. Please," She gestured in a motion of peace. "Please, put your weapon away."

Ashara's nostrils flared, but her crossbow didn't move. "I will not. not until I hear a good reason why."

Nenet sighed. "This very morning I was instructed by interested powerful parties to investigate Templars and mages gone rogue. Their recent interest in the Dalish has also come to our attention and that is a major concern we aren't taking lightly either. The Chantry does not approve or support the actions of these renegades. If you recall, I had just told both of you that the current Divine has no particular interest in hunting apostates. And before you insisted on your private meeting with me, I was just about to invite the others in that will be joining you on this investigation. Perhaps, if you don't try to shoot them first." Nenet tried to introduce some levity.

Ashara was not a fan of the joke, but she took a minute to think things through. Nenet's admission did explain why she had been interested in seeing her out in the hall. Her reactions, as few had slipped through, seemed sincere. Of course, Ashara wasn't as excellent at reading people as life seemed to be requiring her now to be. Regardless, unless she honestly thought to do battle in an unlocked room with a poorly armed religious woman, she should probably put her crossbow away. So she did.

"Thank you," Nenet said politely in the awkward silence that followed.

"I'd rather the rest of them not know about the...war possibilities. I understand if you have to tell your interested parties."

A pounding on the door startled them both. Nenet cautiously rose, raising her brows in question at Ashara. Ashara shook her head to indicate she didn't care. Right before opening the door, Nenet paused and spoke.

"I agree to those terms, Ashara." Then she opened the door.

---

tagging @tzeenchianapostrophe

I gotta skedaddle. hear/write with you guys next week.

Warrior/brawler and reluctant helper

“If he did,” Helen interjected, “then I think it would be in your best interest to tell us. You may have caught their ire by starting this investigation.” She squeezed Bhegan’s shoulder tighter. The old dwarf must have felt quite surrounded. “We wish to find these people before they bring their violence upon Velun.”

Thene couldn’t believe it, is this how Miss Priss-in-Boots offered to help somebody? Those Orlesian nails looked sharp. She might be a ‘self-important loudmouth’, but she didn’t immediately attack people she just met. Usually. There was that one time a few years ago . . . Maybe the woman didn’t know that when you took a job you weren’t supposed to bully the person employing you, at least not until and unless they deserved it. “Although, they didn’t exactly say they were going to take the job, just they wanted to talk about it. She knows something, hmmm . . .” “Ease up on the grip, Helen, unless you plan on skewering him right here,” Thene warned. She decided to add some of the knowledge she gleaned from Bhegan, “Rhagan always stopped in Velun before going further north. It wouldn’t be that hard for somebody to find out.”

When the two women first entered the Chantry, Thene noticed that the human, Helen, seemed to bloom but Kali, the dwarf, was curiously edgy. She wondered if Kali was new to the surface, which might explain her unease. Thene put them out of her mind until they moved behind her and Bhegan. They seemed surprised she caught them eavesdropping, but it didn’t take long to recover their composure and snark back at her. Even though Kali took the lead interrogating Bhegan, Helen’s ruthless attitude told Thene she was at least an equal partner in their relationship. She narrowed her eyes slightly and waited.

Helen looked up at Thene and still managed to give the impression she was looking down her nose at an inferior. Thene could admire the ability despite someone directing it at her. It was certainly a novel experience for her, being the tallest person in a group. Helen almost sniffed before addressing her, “My dear woman, something is going on here and there is nobody around to stop it. I am not leaving this dwarf before he tells me all he knows. His life may depend on it, and so, certainly, does that of many others.” She sighed, “If you know anything that could help us, then pray share.”

Thene was ready to pop her one for that ‘my dear woman’ crack, but Bhegan shrugged the woman’s hand off his shoulder. “How do I know I can trust any of you? Especially Carta,” he said, shaking his head and looking straight at Kali. “If you really are Carta. Look, I don’t mean any offense, not to any of you, but...I’ve made that mistake before, trusting someone I shouldn’t have. I can’t make it again.”

“Then why put a notice on the chantry board where anyone could see it?” Kali asked, not unkindly.

“She makes a good point,” Thene reluctantly admitted. She wasn't convinced if Kali was sincere in her apparent kindness or not. “I wonder if she has any contacts in the Carta that might help. If they’re not responsible for the attack on the lyrium caravan, I can’t imagine they’re happy.” She sighed slightly and listened to the dwarf.

Kali pressed her point, “I think you’re desperate for any kind of help you can get, but you trust Sister Nenet to make sure that help is reliable. She updated me on your case yesterday with everything she knew, but that isn’t much, Bhegan. It isn’t much to go on at all.” She frowned sympathetically. “I’ve gotta be honest with you. With the little bit of information we have now, I don’t think we’re going to be able to track your brother down. There aren’t enough leads, and the trail we’ve got has gone cold.”

Bhegan looked between the three women, then turned his head toward Nenet’s office and let his eyes linger. “You’re right, you know,” he said, wiping his nose on the kerchief. “I trust Nenet, maybe more than I oughta, but . . . I do. So I’ll tell you what I know, but not till I check with her first, got it? Not that I’m assuming you’re up to no good, you understand? I just . . . I can’t take that risk, not again.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Rhagan always used to tell me I’m too trusting. Not that he was one to talk. He could be so reckless . . .”

“Seems reasonable,” Thene began but Madame Poncypants interrupted.

“Wait a minute!” Helen folded her arms. She was determined to get every dribble of information out of Bhegan, whether he was willing or not. “You said you’ve made that mistake before. Who did you trust that you shouldn’t have?”

“What do you mean, Helen? Or are you being overly dramatic over one missing caravan?” Thene frowned suspiciously. “OK, more than one, but she doesn’t know that, or does she?” She didn’t wait for the other woman to answer before directing her attention to Bhegan, “Bhegan, you’re not wrong. You don’t know us, why should you trust us, any of us.”

“Because,” Helen interrupted, “there are only three groups of people in this world. The ones who robbed Rhagan, all the useless people who don’t care, and the people who are going to find out what happened and possibly get Rhagan back.” She leant down in front of the old dwarf. “Tell me, Bhegan, honestly: Who do you think we are?” She smiled warmly. “Bhegan, you know we could only be here to help you.”

“Drama, dire warnings, and now she’s trying to be sweetness and nice,” Thene grumbled to herself. She really wished Helen and Kali hadn’t shown up when they did. She could be enjoying the singing, instead. The music was the best thing about the Chantry, in her opinion, even when one of the brothers sounded like a drunken bullfrog. Now she was trying to figure out what these women were up to and keep them from doing something to the poor dwarf she was trying to help. Delivering this letter was quickly becoming a giant thorn in her backside. “How on Thedas did an apparently sensible person like this dwarf, Kali, appear to be end up with such a fancy, arrogant, high-strung prancer? Ha, maybe the answer is the dwarva isn’t sensible at all; if that’s the case, then Bhegan needs me more than ever. Well, damn.”

“I don’t know that,” Bhegan said. He was starting to look angry, his back straightening and his fists curling in. Thene thought it was about time he stopped acting like a dishrag. “Look, I gave a bit of information to the Sister just a little while ago. If she says you’re worth trusting, then, well . . . then she’ll pass on the information. I just . . . I have to go.”

Thene shifted her feet so he could easily pass. If her movements made it more difficult for the two women to follow him, well, “Bo-nus,” as one of the other children in Denerim used to say.



Morrigan