He glanced back once at Reiss, a look of dread in his eye, before it all vanished away. Summoning something to protect him, the King marched with head held high down the stairs into the pits. What had seemed like the cursed realms of the forgotten buzzed with sweat and anger as dozens of men hobbled back and forth like caged animals behind the bars. Eyes glittered in pain through the darkness, daring their King to draw closer. This wasn't poor Ghaleb and the ambassador tossed into a straw pile, these were the real horrors of the street. Men who'd found within each other a shared desire to take whatever they wanted and hurt when it suited them. If there was any soul worth saving, they long ago traded it away for drink or worse.
Reiss didn't look over at them, but she could feel the hot breath snorting from their noses. It felt as if it crawled down the back of her neck into her armor. Did they know she was the reason they'd been found out? Would it matter to them either way if any ever escaped?
Circling down to the second level, they spotted Harding with daggers drawn as she punched one man in the gut. Before he could think to slide back, she drew the dagger up under his dangly parts and moved to draw it upwards. That froze him in an instant, his eyes bulging as she dared him to try anything and face his new life as a castrato. Lifting his hands, one of the guards punched to the ground in the scuffle manacled one wrist and then the other before knocking the man into a cell.
"Remind me to not piss you off," Alistair said while clapping in appreciation for Harding's efforts.
The dwarf spun on her heels to eye up the King. Blood was spattered across her cheek, which she wiped up to mash with dirt and sweat. A smile lifted and she shrugged, "Make sure to pay me on time and you should be safe. Sorry about that one, we had damn near everyone secured but he got one look at the Commander here and went berserk."
Cade sneered from behind as he quietly slotted his sword back in place. If not for Harding's quick thinking, the Commander would have beheaded the prisoner without a second thought. "Fear will do that to a person," he grumbled in his bass, all the teeth flashing at the man glaring in his cell. Shaking it away, Cade turned to Alistair and said, "Milord, it's not safe for you to be here."
"Seems as long as I stick near Harding I should be good," Alistair said, rocking back and forth on his heels. Ignoring Cade's grumble at forgoing his safety, Alistair focused on Harding.
She slotted her daggers away and yanked up mounds of paperwork that spilled across the floor in the scuffle. "We've got them, your Highness."
"All of them?" he glanced around at the cells full to bursting as if in disbelief that there could be more out there trying to kill him.
"Every last bastard. Took a lot of reconnaissance and critical timing, and I won't lie, we got damn lucky in the end. But this is ever last member of the Zea Dogs, all thirty two of 'em."
A whistle echoed out of Alistair's tucked in cheeks at that number. "Thirty two?" he flipped through the paperwork Harding passed over, "That's a lot of people who want me dead."
"Only taking into account the ones in Denerim," Cade sneered.
"Add in the rest of thedas and we could probably have our own jousting tourney," Alistair tacked on to Cade's tactless comment before glancing down at Harding. "Have you begun interrogating them yet?"
"What in the blazes for?" Cade interrupted, needing to make it all about him. "They're assassins."
"Can we prove that?" he asked.
"Only the Maker'll care what to put on their tombstones. We know they're mercenaries, 'n' that's bad enough for a good stretching."
Groaning at the Commander's one size fits all solution, Alistair focused on Harding instead. "Not yet, it'll take time to get the right interrogators in, break them down, and there's another problem."
"Don't tell me, this is going to be something disgusting isn't it?"
Harding sighed, "Some of them seem to have...cut out their own tongues."
"Sweet bloody Maker!" Alistair gasped, staggering back at the blow.
"It was part of a ritual to swear themselves to a secret order. I'm not sure, seemed to have been thought up after bad drink and worse blood dragon. We caught the first few doing it to themselves while babbling in nonsense." Andraste's sake, it sounded barbaric. To try and cleave themselves to some ignoble cause by mutilating themselves? Why?
"So all these idiotic attacks and piss poor assassinations came down to a secret cult they invented with the sole purpose of murdering the King," Alistair summed up.
Cade intervened, his mass trying to shove the dwarf aside, "I've heard of the scum on the streets dreaming up stupider shit."
"Commander, Ser!" a voice echoed from behind Reiss all but startling her out of her boots. She took a calming breath as the Commander shouldered past everyone including his King. "There's a problem with one of the prisoners."
"Aye, I'll get to it. We ain't got the space to deal with so many," he grumbled to himself before turning to Alistair, "You best be stretching some necks fast before we get a real break on our hands."
The King's heavy brown eyes followed the man sweeping past them all as he ambled quickly up the stairs. There was no hiding the power in the man behind the girth to his body, fat certainly didn't slow him. Reiss watched Cade, a dark feeling sinking in her stomach that he may soon be her superior. She'd have to answer to him and even knowing she was favored by the King it seemed doubtful the Commander would think well upon that.
"Harding?" Alistair prompted, dragging Reiss from her thoughts. "You have some thoughts?"
"Hm? I dunno, the cult thing seems likely. And they weren't faking the tongues being cut out, I was there myself. It's just..." she tipped her head back in forth in thought, "people like that tend to leave behind manifestos. A reason to be balmy enough to go leaping off the deep end and we haven't found anything like that."
Alistair tipped his head back to glare at the roof. "Can anything be easy just once? I'm asking nicely here, Maker. One simple go here, take out these bad guys, then go home for celebratory pie kind of quest. And nothing involving escorts!"
"Sire," Harding jerked her head back towards the interrogation room. "We do have some papers looted from the hideout as well as what seemed to be the higher ranking..." she paused before saying the name, "Zea dogs homes. Would you like to read through them?"
"I doubt I can do more than color inside them, but I'll give it a go," Alistair agreed, following her into the guardroom. Stacks of crates overflowing with parchment sat perched in corners, on the table normally reserved for snacking, and in two chairs. "This is going to take awhile."
Harding lifted the first file she found and dropped it into the King's hands, "I'd say start here, but we have no idea."
Nodding with eyes glazed over in a silent scream, Alistair slumped into a chair and began to paw through the first of a never ending folder of documents. Harding left the room to attend to her own business, but people would enter to add even more to the bulging pile. Uncertain if she should have anything to do with it, Reiss stood beside the wall doing her best to not think about what came next. She'd performed her duty to the best of her ability, the main threat seemed to be dealt with. Perhaps he'd keep her on until the punishments were doled out if only for the sake of appearances and to discourage any of the assassins from breaking free and finishing the job.
Then what?
Reiss glanced over at the man with a crust of bread jammed in his mouth as he accepted another scrap of paper. Seemingly unaware that he was gagged by the food, Alistair kept trying to speak around it to the various guards slipping in and out. His gumming grew so intense, the bread began to tumble free from his mouth and plummet right onto the top of a stack of crates. Barely caring, he swooped it up into his mouth and finished the food off in two quick bites.
He must have sensed her eyes canvasing him as Alistair looked up from his stack of work. Those sweet, doe eyes honed in on Reiss before ticking off to the side. Certain that no one else was watching, he puckered up his lips and blew her a kiss. Maker's s
ake it was stupid, and foolish, and it made her smile all the way from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She wasn't ready to give up whatever this was. Not yet. Not while he looked at her like that, not while he'd comb through her hair and hold her as she cried. What would some time serving under Cade be? She'd done hard and often unfulfilling work without a reason her whole life. At least now there'd be someone waiting for her.
"Excuse me, your Highness," another face entered into the room, this one dressed more plainly. Probably one of the Harding's spies. She passed a letter to the King while Reiss turned away to stare at the wall. Aware of the blush crawling up her cheeks, she was doing her best to hide it by appearing to be very interested in the ceiling.
After glancing at the latest missive, the King dumped the pile of folders out of his lap. His eyes devoured it, darting quickly to and fro when a great smile broke upon his lips. Stepping forward, he held an envelope out. "Actually, this is for Reiss."
"What?" she turned away from the wall and stared at the tan envelope without a mark to hint at what was inside. Oh Maker, was it something from Lunet? Did she tell someone or make things worse? Plucking it from his fingers, Reiss turned the envelope over and over in her hand.
"You may want to read it now," Alistair whispered to her.
Nodding, she slit off a simple seal and slid out a single piece of parchment. There wasn't more than a few paragraphs, which seemed a waste of sending anything. When her eyes fell upon the first line, all the breath in her lungs escaped in one gasp.
"Dearest sister,
I have been gifted this opportunity to inform you that I am well and alive. Jader is in a state of fear I have not experienced since the Blight itself, but the people are strong and are bonding together to overcome someone's misbegotten anger.
In truth, I was not at the chantry when the fires began. I was praying for the souls of the elves marching through the city streets, begging Andraste to fill their hearts with her love and hope. When smoke appeared above the skyline, every man and woman walking for acceptance raced to the river to help form a bucket line. It was all for naught as the blaze quickly took our beloved chantry from us. So many of my fellow sisters perished that day. It is difficult for me to comprehend the reason but I must trust to the Maker. Whatever drove that poor, wretched soul to douse Andraste's house in flame must have been consuming him his whole life. It is pity I gift him, even as we scrabble through the wreckage of our home and attempt to rebuild.
Efforts will be slow and I shall not be able to write to you for sometime I'm afraid. The people of Jader are letting demons spill lies, fear the most powerful as all. Many are trying to point fingers any which way they can but I have faith that they will see the light. It is a lucky thing you have friends in the army or I do not know how I could have contacted you so quickly.
Be well in Denerim, and your newest endeavors for the crown. I know you will wish for me to return to Ferelden, to settle down somewhere safe but Reiss, you cannot understand what it meant to have a purpose in my life. Even as the flames devoured the place I considered my sanctuary, I felt the ashes renewing strength from the people who folded around me, who came to me for help, for prayer, for salvation. This is my place for the Maker and I am at peace.
I love you, and believe it or not, worry for you as well. I'm not the only elf in the family breaking new ground.
May you forever walk in the Maker's light,
Sister Atisha"
Reiss' hands trembled in shock, tears dripping down her eyes as she read over the words a second, then third time. They were real, they were hers, she survived. She lived. Maker's sake, she was alive. Glancing up at Alistair, Reiss gasped, "Atisha's okay."
"Oh thank the Maker," he folded an arm around her, tugging Reiss tight to his chest even as she clung to her sister's letter like a life preserver. It was her proof that she was still out there. Smug as always, but alive. Alistair pressed his lips to her forehead while he whispered, "From the look on your face I feared it might be bad news."
"I don't understand. How...? I," Reiss didn't have any contacts in the army. She couldn't even think of who to send a letter to in Jader to inquire about her sister, so she spent the days staring at a blank sheet of vellum too terrified to pick up the quill and begin.
"It wasn't too difficult to have my people sent to ask around for an elven Sister. I'd guessed she looked like you, but there was only one known," Alistair said, his arms locking tight against her.
"You..." He did it. He took the time and cared enough to search for Atisha. No, he had other people do it. He used his power of the crown to find her sister, all for Reiss -- his mistress. A thud landed in her stomach and she fell deathly quiet while clinging to him.
"Reiss?" his voice floated above her, catching on fast to her change in mood. He probably expected her to be leaping in joy, or...or to offer up her gratitude in a more carnal form. The idea stung against the back of her brain like a jelly fish bite, burning through her nerves with a bitter anger.
Sounds of the door cracking open caused Reiss to scurry out of his arms to the safety of the other side of the small room. It was another of many guards to pick up a stack of crates. His eyes honed in on the King, but for a beat he glanced over at the elf trying to melt into the floor. "Did I come at a bad time?"
"Nah," Alistair spoke up for Reiss. "I needed to stretch my legs before they fell to death while sitting in that cramped chair."
The guard glanced over at where the King had sat most of the afternoon away and sighed, "Aye, we dubbed that one the back breaker."
"I'd call it ass-flattener first," he chuckled, the laugh so uproarious it screamed fraud. But the guard, no doubt on his own high from such a record day for them, smiled along. Tipping his head to the jolly King no one wondered why he was pitching in to help, the guard yanked open the door and vanished down the dungeon cells.
Reiss stood uncertain, her ears straining for the clip of boots knocking against stones while she drew her fingers against the divots in the wall. After they faded, she said, "I should-- "
"Not here," Alistair shook his head, "not with..." he gestured around the piles and piles of work ahead of someone. Most likely not actually the King as much as he was willing to dig his elbows into it. Everyone out there knew he was going to get bored soon and wander off, but if it gave them a break why not let him tire himself out?
"You know the old bell tower, which doesn't have a bell in it anymore?"
Reiss nodded. She'd seen the structure in passing around the edge of the castle.
"Meet me there. People think it's haunted so no one's ever up there," he whispered the fact under his breath as if he was sharing state secrets.
"Is it?" she asked, rocking back and forth on her feet.
"The veil's not particularly happy up there, but I've never seen any real ghosts, or demons, or skeletons walking around playing a folk song with catgut strung through their ribcage," he said, which brought a soft snicker to Reiss. Alistair seemed to read something was off, but had no idea what to do.
Reaching over, he plucked up her slack hand and curled his fingers over it. "I'll talk to Harding and tell her all of the nothing I've found so far and then we can talk in private without having to worry about guards tramping in and out and causing such a terrible draft."
"Okay," she nodded. His eyes searched valiantly through hers as if he could find the magic words to fix whatever was weighing on her heart. Reiss wished she could tell him, but the spell seemed to have bound her tongue as she was unable to voice whatever was eating her alive inside.
Bowing her head in deference to him, Reiss yanked open the door and entered the cells crammed with people who were most likely never going to see the sun again. Clutched tight in her fist were the words from her sister which should make her happy, but only drew a deepening gulf within her stomach.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Happiness
Why wasn't she happy?
Reiss paced back and forth
through the derelict bell tower, her boots stirring up dust bunnies on their fifth or sixth generation. Bell tower was a bit of a misnomer, while it bore the general shape and structure of one, the architects clearly had no intentions of soiling it with an actual bell. This was most evident as they forgot to leave a gap wide enough in the ceiling for anything but the tiniest of bells to jangle away in. As a lark, someone did stick a string up there, the kind one would find attached to a horse's bridle when they're being particularly kitschy. She couldn't help but yank on the rope and hear a soft tinkling as they trembled through the silent building.
Maker's breath, what was wrong with her? Atisha was alive, she wasn't willing to leave Jader but Reiss expected that. Her sister was stubborner than her, often digging her heels in no matter how much Reiss tried to convince her she was walking into danger. The harder Reiss pushed, the more...
Her fingers ran over the seal on the envelope. In her haste to open it, she didn't recognize the royal emblem stamped into the wax. It wasn't Atisha returning to her after Reiss began to mourn that was chewing her apart. It wasn't even that Alistair did what he could for her, to try and find her sister, to give her peace. No, it was that damn crown again.
Don't get fat on someone, her mother used to say. She didn't mean it literally, well, maybe she did sometimes. Her mother had a habit of scooting all her food into various piles and if it didn't match up, refusing to eat even if she was hungry. But those words she said her mother, and her mother's mother told her. When you depend upon someone for food, for shelter, for love, for guidance, for sanctity, for friendship they're going to buckle under the weight and you'll be left bereft and penniless.
Reiss never thought much of the words, she hadn't had anyone to rely upon for so long they didn't seem to apply to people like her. Until Ethan. Until he swept in and she, like a foolish teenager, began to pin everything she had to him. She gave him her hopes, her dreams, her future, her livelihood. And how did he repay her? That Sayer stubborn streak of needing to prove the bastard wrong was the only reason she survived to Denerim, three coppers left to her name, and a cheap sword on her hip. In walking the streets she blundered into a pair of city watch caught in a bloody fight.
Love's Blush Page 62
