"Nothing," Caron replied. "I could not relieve them until I could make certain they would not be killed by the darkspawn. I am not doing anything now, because I am here, wasting my time."
"Nothing?" Fergus sneered. "You couldn't give some orders? Shift some supplies up to the city? Tell Seneschal Varel to look into it?" He leaned forward. "The King did not find it necessary to destroy Denerim in order to save it."
"Hear, hear!" Bryland agreed. "Your Majesty, we're likely to have all of Amaranthine aflame with a peasant revolt if the people believe you countenance his actions."
The Warden-Commander was silent, glaring at Fergus. "I have already crushed one pack of peasants. And the city of Amaranthine is the responsibility of its bann," he pointed out. "Perhaps you should be questioning Bann Esmerelle."
Fergus narrowed his eyes. "I think that would rather difficult, considering that we both know that she is very likely quite dead. However, I take your point. I shall give the appointment of the next Bann of the city my fullest attention."
"It is for me to choose!" Caron shouted.
"I think not," said Fergus. "The fiefdom is in my gift. Who were you going to appoint? Another Orlesian? That's all we need." He sneered. "But as for the state of Amaranthine, you don't have to take my word. I have two witnesses here who were there on the day it burned. Both of them are known to everyone here, and they're hardly 'peasants:' one is Lord Eddlebreck. The other is Lady Delilah Howe."
"Delilah!" cried Nathaniel, thunderstruck. His accusing glare raked over the Warden-Commander. "You told me she was dead!"
* * *
Things went downhill from there. First Eddlebreck, and then Delilah gave testimony.
Eddlebreck was still furious.
"So you thought I was Tainted?" he bellowed at Caron. "Am I? Do I look Tainted to you?"
It seemed clear to Fergus, at least, that Caron had shown callous disregard for the lives of the people he was supposed to rule. Was it worth it? That was harder to say. Fergus, Wulffe, and Bryland were not at all convinced that the destruction of the city of Amaranthine was a necessary move. In fact, they were more and more convinced that the entire crisis had been caused because the Grey Wardens went to Amaranthine. There were hints that this Architect creature had been very, very interested in the Grey Wardens. Had the Wardens not been at Vigil's Keep, the Architect's attention might well have been drawn elsewhere: to Astrid, perhaps, or to the Anderfels.
Caron had a private discussion with Alistair, and the King's expression afterwards was not that of a man relieved of all his troubles. It was a situation—rather like the Battle of Ostagar—that would be debated forever. However, that did not solve the current problems. Caron had been confirmed as Warden-Arl, and nobles could not simply be dismissed, either by their liege-lord or by their King. In order to get rid of them, they either had to personally abdicate in form, be killed in a duel, or be convicted of high treason. Their lands, in the last case, were then forfeit to the Crown.
If Caron simply stepped down, the grant to the Grey Wardens would still be in effect. If Caron was stubborn, and held out for a treason trial, it was pretty clear that it would be the end of the Grey Wardens in Amaranthine —possibly in Ferelden—and Caron would lose his head.
Naturally, Fergus devoutly hoped that Caron's arrogance would triumph over his good sense. Alas, he was doomed to disappointment. Caron agreed— angrily, and showing profound contempt for ignorant Fereldan yokels— to rAstridquish his positions as Warden-Commander and Arl of Amaranthine and return to Astrid at once.
"Yes," snorted Arl Wulffe. "I'd say your work here was done. The Empress will probably give you a medal."
"I do think," said Alistair, shuffling and embarrassed, "that it would be best if you left... like... today. As soon as possible, anyway."
It wasn't over: not at all. At the next Landsmeet, Eamon would answer for his "advice" to the King on the matter of giving Amaranthine to the Wardens. It was unlikely that he would be Chancellor for long. In fact, Fergus meant to tell the King that the sooner he distanced himself from the Arl of Redcliffe, the better. In the past, chancellors who had given far less disastrous advice had been executed. Knowing Alistair, that was unlikely in this case, but Fergus briefly enjoyed the fantasy.
Nathaniel and Delilah withdrew to a corner for a private talk. With Caron's abdication, Fergus had absolutely no idea if Nathaniel could take her back to Vigil's Keep or not. Who would be Acting-Commander? He shuddered at the picture of Delilah as his own permanent dependent. It would infuriate Habren, who had something of a jealous disposition, and it was not likely to give any pleasure to himself.
And in the absence of an Arl of Amaranthine, all the work of rebuilding the city would devolve on Fergus himself. He nearly groaned aloud. He must think of a good sound ally to appoint to take over in the city. Destroyed or not, it was still technically a Fereldan bannorn. He supposed that he could name Delilah to the post, but so far he had seen no signs of any particular ability or devotion to duty. If there were some small bannorn vacant, he might indeed give it to Delilah, just so she would have a roof over her head that was not his own. Not the city, though: that required talent and vision and a capacity for plain hard work. And the whole Arling sounded like it was on the verge of revolt. Peasant uprisings were ugly things, and a rebuke to the lords who allowed situations to get so completely out of hand.
So, who was a good fit for city bann? Certainly not Varel, with whom he was very displeased. The man had likely been lying to him all along, and who knew how deep in Rendon Howe's councils he had been? It was annoying enough to deal with him at Vigil's Keep. There were other options: two old-time Highever retainers who had not been present at the Cousland massacre, and had managed to evade Howe's murder squads. Which would be better?
Fergus had great respect for Ser Naois Gilmore, but perhaps he was not the man to rebuild Amaranthine. His nephew Rory had been killed at Highever, and he was very bitter against the Howes—against the people of Amaranthine in general. Darron Bliss was probably a better choice: less personal baggage, and the man himself was unmarried. Yes... that might do very well. and a new, pleasing thought occurred to him. A marriage could be arranged between Bliss and Delilah that would give her a decent position and maintenance, but would not demand talents she clearly did not possess. Bliss was a good man, and would not be put out that she already had a child. If Darron had children with Delilah, they would have preference in inheriting the bannorn. Fergus would think about some sort of holding for her first-born when the time came. The current situation was what mattered. Many of the old-time nobles of Amaranthine would accept their bann more easily if he were married to a Howe. It would certainly go a long way to silence whatever remained of Esmerelle's faction.
Oh, Maker give him strength, the Howes were coming this way, wanting to talk to him. He was not ready to disclose his plans to them so soon.
"Your Grace," Nathaniel said feAstridgly, "I can hardly express my profound gratitude for my sister's life. I am deeply indebted to you."
"I could hardly do otherwise," Fergus said, not wanted to make much of it. "I was sorry I had to abandon anyone on that beach. The main thing is to get help for the others. Who will be acting for the Grey Wardens? I'll tell you right now that we won't accept any more Orlesians."
"I'm not sure at the moment. We'll confer. Varel will of course continue as seneschal." He lowered his voice. "Bann Esmerelle is dead, by the way. She and her friends attacked the Warden-Commander."
"So I surmised. I'll want a list of the dead. The heirs need to take hold of their estates as soon as possible, and those estates without heirs will need someone in charge."
"I'll see to it immediately."
Delilah gave Fergus a gentle smile. "Nathaniel will be taking me back to Vigil's Keep with him.. You—and Teyrna Habren—have been more than generous."
"You shouldn't hurry," he said, his conscience pricking him. "You haven't been well. You could wait unt
il I return to Highever, and I could take you home in the ship."
The horror of her expression was almost comical. "I'm quite sure that Nathaniel will look after me, but thank you."
"As you wish. Perhaps you would like to return to Highever House now? You must be tired."
"I am, rather," she agreed, with a wistful look at her brother.
"You'll see him soon," Fergus assured her. Fergus might agree to Nathaniel paying a call, but there was no way he was going to invite him to dinner.
* * *
But he did, of course, for the following day, because it proved to be the convenient thing to do. Habren was not particularly on her best behavior with people she regarded as déclassé, but neither did she make a deliberate effort to be rude. The ladies left the table early, as did old Eddlebreck, leaving Fergus and Nathaniel to make awkward conversation together.
"Caron's on his way back to Astrid," Nathaniel said. "He could see it was for the best: for the Wardens, for himself, for everyone."
"Good." Fergus sipped his wine, fending off a headache. "I don't want to see his face ever again."
"He wasn't so bad," said Nathaniel. "A very fine warrior. I think he sincerely believed he was doing the right thing."
"What about making you a Grey Warden? Did you think that was the right thing?"
"Not at the time, no, but now I'm glad I played a part in destroying a hideous threat. That's something. I couldn't understand at first how much I had to make up for. Delilah told me about how Father had changed... turned sour and evil... how he was full of mad plans and vicious schemes. I wonder if I ever really knew him at all."
"I certainly didn't. His behavior was destructive throughout: to the Couslands, to Ferelden, to his own family. Maybe it was brain-sickness." Perhaps it was the wine he'd had at dinner, but Fergus decided to tell something of what he knew.
"In the case of the Couslands, I have some evidence that a provocateur was feeding him false information."
Nathaniel sat up straight. "Who?"
"I'm not sure yet. The letters were sent through an Orlesian bard. She was very skilled, and claimed to have renounced her loyalty to the Empire, but we all know what that sort of thing is worth. She said she was the agent of a Ferelden noble, but didn't give the name in her letters. Claimed that the Couslands were allied with Astrid, which was absurd, but apparently just what your father wanted to hear. She played him like a fish on a line." Seeing the look on Nathaniel's face, he put up a hand to stem the anger. "She's dead now. I plan to search her house as soon as I can gain access. Surely there must be something there that would give a clue as to her patron's identity."
"You know where the house is?"
"Of course."
"Let's go."
"What do you mean? I don't have a key."
"I don't need a key. Let's go. Right now. Let's go and find out who tricked my father. I want to know. I'll kill them, whoever they are."
Fergus stared at him for some time.
"Well, why not? All right."
Of course, they had to make some sort of preparations. Nathaniel asked for a pair of dark lanterns: the kind with a hinged door that could hide the candle within. Muffled in nondescript hooded cloaks, they headed off to the Market District, under the dim light of the waning moon. Fergus wanted to keep this as secret, and so refused to take an escort, but soon he was glad of his sword and dagger. They passed drunks passed out in corners and pitiful beggar children huddled against walls. Thugs lurked in alleys. Luckily, it did not take long to find the house. Nathaniel looked like he was on edge... ready to explode.
Marjolaine's house was nearly intact, save for some charring to a corner of the roof. The other doors in the little street were locked up for the night, but light through cracks in the shutters revealed that there were neighbors. Nathaniel stepped into the doorway, whispering, "Stand in front of me."
Within a few seconds, with hardly a rattle, the lock clicked open. Fergus raised his brows at Nathaniel's unusual skill.
"I'm impressed. You've clearly been educated abroad at great expense."
Nathaniel rolled his eyes, and slipped through the door. "Come on. I'll open the lantern as soon as you're inside."
There was a faint, unpleasant odor in the house, probably from the damp and lack of air...or from something dead. Fergus longed to open the shutters, but that was obviously impossible. The lanterns cast dancing shadows on the white-washed interior of a very nice little house. Looking more closely, they saw the dark stains on the floor, and on one wall an ominous splash pattern. A number of people had died here.
"The woman was killed?" Nathaniel asked. "Did you—?"
"I never met her. She ran afoul of some of the King's Blight companions. She sent assassins after them, and they called her to account."
"Her patron was an enemy of the Wardens?"
"I think she had more than one patron. Or... more likely the attack on the Wardens was her own idea. One of Warden Aeducan's companions knew her, and could have denounced her as a spy."
"Ah." Nathaniel began prowling through the rooms. "So you're looking for papers... letters..."
"Exactly."
"Somebody's been here ahead of us."
Fergus' blood froze at the words, and now, he too could see traces of a frantic search.
"Let's look anyway," he said. "Maybe they didn't find what they were looking for."
Nathaniel looked in places that Fergus would never have imagined. It took some time. They looked for hidden cupboards, for interior spaces that did not match their outer dimensions. They opened the cellar trapdoor and found a pile of bodies, shriveled and decayed. They had been there for several months. Fergus covered his nose with a handkerchief. Nathaniel was less troubled by the smell, and examined the cellar meticulously.
"Not here. I didn't think it likely. Let's have a closer look at the woman's bedchamber. Women generally keep what they value most there."
The bedchamber had been quite a charming little room. Someone had broken open the lock on a carved chest and rifled through the contents. Nathaniel smiled to himself. "They must have found something they liked. Something that distracted them from the—" he pried at the smooth wood with his dagger "—the false bottom of the chest!"
No letters were there, but quite a bit of gold in leather purses. A smaller purse contained some unset jewels.
"Leave it or take it?" asked Nathaniel.
Fergus huffed a bitter laugh. "We'll take it. I'll need a lot of coin for the refugees. You can have half. Maker knows what happened to Delilah's dowry."
"Fair enough."
He was almost ready to give up, when Nathaniel muttered a soft "Ha!" and began scrabbling at the side of the fireplace. A block of stone pulled free. Fergus lifted the lantern, revealing a small cavity full of neat little bundles, marked with names and dates. Marjolaine had had many correspondents.
"The Empress!" Nathaniel murmured. "No surprise there. Was it she...?"
"I don't think so," said Fergus, and pulled forth the bundle marked with the name he had expected to find. He sighed deeply, not knowing if he was pleased or not. "Put the stone back. Let's take these papers to Highever House and read them there."
* * *
Nathaniel shut his lantern and slipped out the door ahead of him. Something thudded into the door frame, and he dodged backward. Fergus, his mind on the letters, was knocked off balance. There was another thud, and Fergus saw the the shaft of the arrow, shining in the moonlight, still quivering in the dark wood. A bowstring twanged again, and another arrow hissed past his ear.
"Braska!" hissed a voice in the darkness.
Crows! Fergus snarled, recognizing the Antivan curse. He'd been a fool. Of course Marjolaine's old associates would have set a watch on this house, especially if they had failed to find the letters.
Nathaniel uttered a loud grunt and collapsed to the floor, only his feet outside the doorway. Fergus looked down at him in alarm
, and then caught the gleam of Nathaniel's teeth, bared in a feral grin. The dark lantern was upright, placed carefully near the door.
Lure them in. Right. Fergus set his own lantern down on a chest nearby.
A thrown dagger whirred past, a spinning silver wheel. Poisoned, no doubt. Fergus shouted, "Maker! I'm… hit…" Instead of falling, he knocked over a table by the door, pleased by the noise. He kicked it as well. It sounded quite a bit like the drumming feet of a man in his death throes.
Silently, he drew his sword and waited out of sight. In a few moments, whispering voices approached, speaking in Antivan.
"The Teyrn himself! What a triumph."
There was a muffled laugh. "Ignacio will pay us double."
"Who is the other?"
"A guard, perhaps. What does it matter? Drag him inside so we can search him."
The taller of the Crows peered into the darkened room. He leaned forward, and the man behind him followed, stepping over Nathaniel's supine body. The one in the lead hesitated, and then turned to say something to his partner.
Fergus reached out and smashed the side of his head against the door frame, then grabbed him by the neck, and ran him up against the far wall. The Crow behind hissed in alarm, but before he could make a leap at Fergus, Nathaniel thrust upwards with a straight arm, and drove his dagger into the man's femoral artery.
An unholy screech shattered the darkness. Nathaniel gritted his teeth and gave the dagger a twist, knocking the man over and bounding up in a single lithe movement. He kicked the door closed and yanked the dagger free. Spurting blood drenched his arm.
Fergus dropped the unconscious body of the taller attacker and fumbled in the darkness for the door of his lantern. A block of yellow light illuminated the room. More stains darkened the floor. Nathaniel clicked his tongue in disgust, using the dying man's tunic to wipe off the blood.
Dragon's Era- No Man's Land Page 18
