Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights

by Patrick Weekes

  * * *

  I tracked Rana down outside templar quarters the next morning. I could count the hours of sleep I’d had over the last two days on one hand, but I’d said I’d tell the templars if I found anything, and here I was.

  “You have something,” Rana said without preamble.

  “Good morning, Knight-Templar Savas.” I handed her the necklace. “I don’t know what this means, but whoever’s after the Venatori, they want these ones in particular.”

  “A specific chapter in the cult?” Rana wondered. It had been my first thought, too.

  “Maybe they wronged our killer,” I suggested.

  Rana ran a thumb over the four-winged dragon. “I’ve seen this.”

  “What—where?”

  “Carved in the corner of Lady Varantus’s mantelpiece. We need to go back. Now that we know what to look for we might find what it means,” Rana said with more can-do attitude than I thought templars were allowed.

  And I was right.

  “The matter with Lady Varantus is resolved and our presence is no longer required.” Knight-Captain Jahvis’s delivery said what he thought of the words even as he quoted them. We were crammed into the room he’d been given in the jet stone building next to the Circle of Magi. The tight quarters weren’t cheering anyone’s mood.

  “But we have something—” Rana said.

  “The Varantus family is grateful to the templars for stepping in and sorry their mother took her own life. They’ll handle arrangements from here,” Jahvis continued his quotation. Behind him, Brom let out a derisive snort.

  “Took her own life?” Rana protested. “The spell marks, the signs of struggle…”

  “Historical damage or their mother’s final madness—take your pick,” Jahvis said. “The Varantus family apologizes.”

  “Etcetera, etcetera,” Brom added.

  “The Varantus family is scared you’ll find more Venatori among them.” I said mildly. This is Minrathous—none of this was surprising.

  “You know that, I know that. They’re also friends with a justicar. He’s stepped in personally. With the knight-commander’s full support,” Jahvis said.

  “If we go to them with this…” Rana pointed at the necklace.

  “And only that?” Jahvis said. “The Varantus family will bury it.”

  “Or your knight-commander will for them,” I murmured.

  “Savas, you have orders,” Jahvis said, then turned to me. “Neve—don’t push the Varantus family. I’m working on it, but we need another way around.”

  I held up my hands in a show of innocence and left the templars to their cramped office. I crossed back over the worn hallways, through the front door, and into the noise and hurry of the Circle district. Magisters and scholars rushed to and from the looming tower, a string of flustered aides and apprentices trailing behind them.

  For the second time in two days, I’d been given an excuse to stop. If I’d walked away, no one would have cared. Let’s be honest, no one would have noticed in the first place. I could’ve gone home. But I didn’t.

  “Neve—where are you going?” Rana asked.

  “It’s very polite, but you don’t need to walk me out every time,” I said.

  “Neve,” Rana repeated.

  “Nowhere near the Varantus family,” I said. “That’s your problem. I’m still looking into Calla.” I pointed at the necklace. “And this is still useful.”

  “And the killer’s still a mage,” Rana said. “That makes him our responsibility. We should be the ones looking into that. The knight-captain said to wait.”

  “If I remember right, I’m not under orders.”

  “By right, I can seize that,” Rana said.

  “Or, we could consider it yours now and I can promise to return it when I’m done?”

  Rana didn’t look happy, but she didn’t argue either. I tucked the necklace into a pouch at my waist. Rana went back inside and followed orders.

  * * *

  There’s a shop down a side street off the lower market. At night, the entire narrow stretch is only lit by a few braziers, and even during the day it’s dim. Not that anyone goes there during the day. The shop itself doesn’t unbolt the doors until past noon. And for the man who looks at objects you don’t want people to know about, you need to come later than that.

  “What do you have?” the man asked before I could say what I wanted. I didn’t know his name. If he knew mine, he pretended not to.

  “Maybe I’m looking for something,” I said.

  The man raised an eyebrow. “Not the right look. What do you have?”

  I placed the necklace on the scarred wooden table. The man scooped it up. I could feel his magic reaching to unlock the nature of the four-winged dragon’s enchantment.

  “Blood magic,” he said.

  “Yes, I gathered that.”

  “No, not like this. Not since Corypheus…”

  “What does—?” But I didn’t get to finish the question.

  “Get out,” he said, slamming the seal back to the table and shoving it toward me.

  “Wait. What is—?” I tried again, but he wasn’t having it.

  “I don’t know, I don’t care, I never saw it.”

  A moment later I was back on the street. The man in the shop had seen a lot of things—worse than I could imagine, I’m sure—but this had him scared. And if he was afraid to talk, who else would? I was running out of options. There was one other person who knew about the necklace. The question was, could I track him down in time?

  When I turned down the narrow street that led from the shop to the lower market, the figure in the bronze mask was waiting for me.

  On instinct I fired off a blast of ice, but of course they’d been expecting me.

  The figure dodged sideways, avoiding the attack, and charged forward. Drawing a dagger, they ducked low and swiped at me with the long blade. The steel glanced off my metal calf and the figure spun away. I could thank dwarven craftsmanship for the lack of damage, but it was a lucky-enough miss for me and a mistake they wouldn’t make twice. We stood for a moment, staring at each other.

  “You have the seal.” The voice was thick with hatred.

  “Aelia?” I asked.

  She laughed softly. The mask’s expression remained the same. I didn’t care for the effect.

  “I’m not Venatori,” I said.

  “None of them were.”

  A dark wave of energy sped my way, but this time I was faster. I dodged and thrust my arm upward, encouraging the spear of ice I created at her feet to follow suit.

  Aelia moved, but not fast enough. The ice caught her in the side and she stumbled. An opening. I willed the air around her to slow and then released it. The change in momentum threw her off course and she crashed into the pitted brick of a run-down tenement.

  Straightening, Aelia threw the mask from her face, revealing short red hair and a look even angrier than I’d expected.

  The mask hit the opposite wall with a clang.

  A distraction—and for the split second it needed to, it worked. Aelia’s other hand still held the dagger. As she returned the hand that had thrown the mask, she made the slice across her palm.

  I felt light-headed as she began to drain my energy. Aelia clenched her fist, drawing more power from herself, and I stumbled into the wall where the mask had fallen.

  She came in fast with her dagger and I threw up an arm to block the worst of it. She twisted the blade in her hand, cutting into my muscle, but at least it wasn’t my neck. Still, I cried out. I felt a tug at my waist as she pulled away the pouch that held the necklace.

  “Our lives for the glory of Tevinter reborn.”

  “You’re Venatori,” I said. “Why—?”

  “Minrathous has forgotten its way,” Aelia said. “It falls to us to put it right. To make it rise.”

  I gasped as Aelia pressed the seal to my injured arm. Her other hand held the dagger to my throat. I felt dizzy again—from the pain or her magi
c or the blood loss, I didn’t know.

  “The traitor’s blood would have been justice. Yours and mine will do.”

  I could feel her channeling magic into the necklace, draining power from me to help unfold its enchantment. With a sharp snap, the seal broke and the ground below us heaved. A giddy smile crossed her face.

  My throat would have been slit next, but her pause was enough. With an effort, I cast a blast of wind, knocking her from me. The dagger skittered across the cobblestones. I let an array of ice crystals form in the air around me. I doubted I could throw them with any accuracy, but she just needed to buy the bluff.

  Aelia kept her distance. “The Hour’s here. Live the last of yours. Consider it gratitude for your service.”

  I let her footsteps disappear before sliding down the wall. The ice crystals fell to the ground around me.

  I needed to stop the bleeding. Drawing the magic took effort. I’m not a healer, but I can patch up a wound well enough. I slowed the blood flow, tore off the sleeve of my blouse, and wrapped the wound as best I could. It wasn’t pretty, but it would last the Hour.

  * * *

  The man in the shop may not have talked, but there was another person who knew about the necklace—or the “seal,” as Aelia had called it—and I had him cornered. His trunk lay behind us where he’d dropped it in the street and his back was to me. I kept hold of the magic keeping him there.

  “How did you find me?” Flavian Bataris asked. The silver egret pin bobbed nervously at his throat—just as it had the last time we’d met. His name, along with the name of the boat he’d hired, had cost me the rest of the evening and enough coin for a week’s worth of fish dinners.

  “People who scurry around the lower market after dark don’t wear gold-embroidered robes.” I walked carefully around him until we were face-to-face, then pointed to the silver egret. “And they don’t advertise themselves with the family crest.”

  Flavian flushed. It was an embarrassing error, though maybe not the one he regretted most. I held up half of the four-winged dragon so he could get a good look. Aelia had taken off with the rest of the necklace.

  “You failed to get me killed,” I said calmly.

  “That wasn’t the point,” Flavian said. “I was getting rid of it.”

  “And you let the right people know you no longer had it,” I said.

  If Flavian was capable of remorse, he wasn’t wasting it on me. “Someone was going to die—if that’s broken then most of Minrathous will. That included you anyway. Or you might have stopped Aelia. Between the two of us, you had a better chance.”

  I dropped the magic holding Flavian in place. Flavian folded his arms, then unfolded them, then clasped his hands.

  “You didn’t like my odds against Aelia,” I said.

  Flavian eyed my arm. “Was I wrong? Besides, I don’t like anyone’s.”

  As if in support, a tremble shook the ground beneath us. A young couple by the pier pulled apart, looking around in confusion, then went back to it.

  “What are the necklaces for?” I asked.

  “Corypheus wanted Tevinter reborn,” Flavian said. “He trusted Minrathous to be the jewel of his new world. He planned to return here after his victory in the south.”

  “What are they for, Flavian?” I said.

  “There’s a demon sealed beneath the city. If it’s let out…” He made a dismissive gesture, as if tossing Minrathous aside. “Corypheus would rebuild. That was the plan.”

  “Minrathous has defeated demons before,” I said.

  “Not like this,” Flavian said. “I’m not even sure demon’s the right word. It’s something only a god could summon.” At the look on my face, he added: “If not a god, Corypheus was close enough.”

  Another tremble shook below us and I took a step to steady myself. People along the docks were starting to look worried now. I saw a man run toward one of the storehouses. The young couple hurried away.

  “Keep going,” I said.

  “Eight of us held the seals to its prison. Blood-bound. We couldn’t speak of them. The death of the others was the only thing that could shock me into giving mine away.”

  “Control that subtle for that long. Unless someone actively renewed the hold, it’s not possi–”

  “Corypheus was close enough,” Flavian said. “If Minrathous wasn’t ready to kneel, the demon would make sure it did. The Hour of Minrathous’s Return.”

  “Corypheus is dead,” I said.

  “And the plan was as well. Until Aelia took over. The Venatori still want the Tevinter Corypheus promised, whether he’s around for it or not. All she needed were the seals.”

  “Not all of you agreed,” I said.

  “Lady Varantus was one of Corypheus’s most devout. After his fall, she had a ‘crisis of conscience.’ Her devotion to charity and the Chantry? Sincere, if it also answers to guilt. Paxus? I think he just wanted to be in charge over Aelia.”

  “What about you?” I asked.

  A weak grin spread over Flavian’s face. “I’ve been a worse person. I’ll settle for dying a bad one. Or better yet, living elsewhere.”

  “And Quentin?”

  Flavian let out that yelp of a laugh. “Calla? He was barely one of us to begin with. He was told the Venatori would end slavery. When he found out the rest—a few threats to his family kept him in line long enough. He was only bound to a seal because manipulating the Calla family was useful at the time. In the end I suspect he was sending information to the Inquisition. By then, I preferred the idea of living over Corypheus’s plans.”

  There it was. I had my answer—who Quentin Calla had been and why he’d died.

  Flavian moved to pick up his trunk then swore as I froze him in place again. “Aelia won’t wait. The Hour’s here. If you let me go, we can both leave. I’ll pay your way out.”

  “Where is she?”

  “It’s already started,” he said, trying to track me with his eyes while his limbs remained in place. When I didn’t respond he gave up on me. “Die how you want. The Catacombs. One of the hidden ones. There’s more than one entrance. The only one I knew was in Lady Varantus’s study.”

  I released the spell and Flavian grabbed his trunk and began hauling it down to the docks. It broke halfway to the pier and he left it, running toward his way out.

  * * *

  Knight-Templar Rana Savas had not expected me to turn up at her rooms in the templar quarters after dark—or for me to be covered in blood when I did. I’d done enough to patch the injury, but my coat was still stained from Aelia’s attack. I held up half of a four-winged dragon.

  “Worse for wear, I admit, but you can’t say I didn’t give it back.”

  “What happened?” She took the broken seal firmly even as she checked my arm. Leave it to Rana Savas to show concern and confiscate templar-claimed property at the same time. It’s a gift.

  “The killer’s Venatori,” I said and filled her in on an evening that already felt too long.

  “We need to move,” Rana said. She wasn’t wrong, and I was ready, but then: “Something this big—the knight-commander needs to know. I’ll inform him straightaway.”

  I don’t know what I expected from Rana. That’s not true. I’d known exactly what to expect and it was this and, like a fool, I was frustrated anyway.

  “The Hour’s now, Rana,” I said.

  “Yes. That’s why—”

  “You’ll tell the knight-commander. And he’ll consult his friend the justicar and we’ll wait until morning while they check in with the Varantus family,” I said. “The city could shake down around them and they’ll jump through the same hoops. That’s if we’re lucky and they don’t already know what the family’s hiding.”

  “You don’t know that,” Rana said, but she was contradicting me more than she was defending her commander.

  “Do you want to know why I don’t like working with templars? It’s not your rules or sense of fair play. It’s because there are people like you and Ja
hvis who try. Or you want to. And too many times out of ten, it’s the wrong coin in the right hands that makes you stop.”

  “That’s not what this is,” Rana said. Then, when I didn’t answer: “If that’s what you think, why did you come here?”

  I sighed. “Maybe I hoped this would be one of the few times out of ten. Mostly so when it’s too late, someone I trust will know what went wrong. If what Flavian said is true, you’ll need the head start.”

  “Someone will listen. We need to organize.”

  I shook my head. What else was there to say?

  “How far can you get on your own?” Rana asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. My arm was sore, everything was sore. My head begged for sleep. “But when I get there, I’ll know it’s as far as I could.”

  For once, she didn’t follow me outside. I left Rana standing in her doorway and headed back into the night.

  * * *

  The knight-commander had posted his own men outside Lady Varantus’s house. He claimed the Varantus family was worried about thieves stealing their inheritance before they had it sorted. More likely they wanted to keep people out until they burned evidence of any Venatori connections.

  Whether they believed the claims or didn’t care about the truth, the guards outside weren’t expecting trouble. Only one was posted by the back entrance, and once distracted by a convenient noise, he didn’t see anyone slip inside.

  Lady Varantus had been removed from the study and the floor cleaned, but some vague sense of superstition made me skirt the last place I’d seen her anyway. The large marble snake shone in the moonlight, the gold-plate eyes disinterested in my visit.

  I reached the fireplace and quickly scanned the stone beneath the mantel. On the far-right end was a carving of a four-winged dragon—just as Rana had said. I gave the stone a slight push, felt the give, and pushed harder. I heard a faint click and a stairway opened in front of the empty fireplace, leading down to the Catacombs below. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and carefully made my way down.