Hawke nodded. No. Nobody could blame the dead young king. Not the golden lad with the big smile, splendid in his golden armor. Some other scapegoat must be found, and Loghain really did feel that Duncan and his men had led Cailan astray. Hawke could see it, though he didn't like it.
They rode into the inner courtyard of the Palace. There, they were separated.
"Wardens, you, of course, will want to go to your Compound. Young trooper Carver will come with me, and the seneschal will have the ladies shown to their rooms in the Palace."
"We're staying in the Palace!" murmured Leandra Hawke, dazed but delighted.
Hawke hesitated. Craine said gently, "I'm sure you'll see one another soon."
"Go with Mother and Bethany, Bowser," said Hawke, giving the mabari a pat. "Look after them."
Of course, they did not go alone to the Wardens' Compound, which was really part of the Palace. A squad of stone-faced soldiers, led by a sergeant accompanied them. Some of them veered off to guard the passageway to the rest of the Palace, and others were detailed to guard the exit to the courtyard.
"You're not to leave the Compound, Wardens," the sergeant told them. "The Teyrn will want to talk to you. Do what you like here, but don't try to leave. Understood?"
Alistair seemed ready to make something of it, but Hawke gave him a look.
"Quite understood," he replied. "We'll just get settled in. Alistair, show us the place. You're the only one who's ever been here."
"Where are the servants?" Alistair demanded.
"Taking a holiday," the sergeant told him, not blinking an eye. "They'll be back in a day or so. Your meals will be brought from the royal kitchens, so you won't be the worse for it."
"Thank you, sergeant," Hawke said, seeing no point in offending the man. "Right now, I'd just like to find a place to put my pack."
So the sergeant joined the guards at the passageway, and Alistair, with very bad grace, took Hawke and Morrigan around the various parts of the Compound.
"This is the Hall," he said, gesturing. "It's where we had meals and meetings. "The kitchens and storerooms and servants' quarters are down those stairs by the courtyard entrance. We've got our own well in the cellar, and a big bathing pool. The dormitory is upstairs." He turned toward those stairs, but Hawke stopped him.
"What's that way?"
Alistair frowned. "Those are Duncan's quarters and the tower for the senior men. The council room, too. We're not allowed in there."
"Oh?" queried Morrigan. "And who is to stop us?"
"As a matter of fact—"
"Alistair," said Hawke. "She makes a good point. We're all that's left of the order in Ferelden. We need to find out what plans Duncan made."
"I suppose... but I don't want her prying through Duncan's things!"
Morrigan sneered. "And why in the world would I wish to trouble myself with the oddments of a dead man?"
Hawke glared her into silence, and tried to speak calmly.
"I'm sure we can find her an empty room. How about that? There's no reason we have to stay in the dormitory, if we can find empty rooms. Let's go have a look and let Morrigan get moved in. You and I can study Duncan's papers."
So they climbed the winding stairs, and Alistair indicated which of the rooms belonged to the Wardens lost at Ostagar. He even told an anecdote or two about them. Hawke was not particularly interested, but it did no harm to be better informed, and talking about his friends seemed to help Alistair. The tower was tall, and as they reached the top, the doors they opened showed rooms that were clearly uninhabited. Better yet, one of the jakes was located on that floor.
"Right," said Hawke. "How about these? A nice view of the city."
"I shall take the north room," Morrigan declared. It would be the warmest, of course, and with the best view.
"Fine. Why don't you put your things away? We'll let you know when they bring us supper."
She shrugged, and swept past them, shutting the door firmly.
"I'll take that one," Hawke said, "unless you want it."
"I don't care." Alistair took the east room and heaved his pack onto the bed. "If you really think we should look through the papers, we'd better do it now."
"All right. Just a minute."
Hawke took a quick, pleased look around the bare little room. A room of his own! The bed was a narrow affair with a straw mattress; its only additional furnishings were an armor stand, a weapons stand, a wash stand, an empty set of shelves, and a trunk, but it was his own. Hawke had never in his life had a private room. It was a mark of status and wealth he had never anticipated. He set his pack down carefully, next to the trunk, looking forward to unpacking it and placing his few possessions just so.
Still, Alistair was right. They needed to find out what Duncan really wanted the Wardens to do.
Hawke expected to have to get past some locked doors. Instead, the door to the council chamber swung open easily. Hawke peered at the door frame. The door had been forced open. He grimaced. Very likely the Teyrn and his men had already been through the Compound. No need to tell Alistair.
In the center was a round polished table with six carved chairs. Ringing the room were bookcases and cupboards. Some were open and untidy, having clearly been rifled through. There were some nice antique weapons on impressive stands.
"They left in a hurry," he remarked casually. "We might as well put things in order as we go."
Alistair had never been here, and had no idea where anything was kept—or even what there was to find.
"Well," considered Hawke. "Surely there should be a roster of Wardens and some account books. Don't Wardens get paid?"
"Of course!" Alistair looked indignant. "The pay is really good, too!"
"I wouldn't know," Hawke said, a bit ruffled. "Nobody's offered me a copper, so far."
So they talked while they worked. A lot was clearly missing. There should be letters from other Wardens, but neither of them found anything. There were gaps in the bookshelves, too. An empty cupboard had marks in the dust at the bottom, like something heavy had been dragged forth.
The pay chest? Hawke wondered. Does this outfit have any coin at all?
The penny finally dropped. Alistair turned red.
"Somebody's been in this room ahead of us!"
"Could be," Hawke agreed sarcastically.
His fellow Warden rushed past him, across the hall.
"They looted Duncan's room!"
They'd certainly done a number on it, Hawke agreed. They'd shown it far less respect that the council room. Even the mattress had been slit open and the straw flung about.
"These are the people you want to collaborate with!" Alistair stormed.
"What did you expect?" Hawke said. "And yes, I'm going to collaborate with them. I'll collaborate like hell. I'd do anything to keep my family safe. Let's at least straighten things up in here. Out of respect," he added, thinking that a busy Alistair would be a quieter Alistair.
So they cleaned up the little chamber in silence. Alistair rubbed his eyes and nose with the back of his hand. He certainly had been very attached to their late Commander. Hawke could not understand being so devoted to an unrelated man that Alistair had known all of six months, but after all, Alistair had no family of his own that Hawke knew of.
Footsteps approached. A guard peered into the room.
"Pardon, Wardens, supper'll be served in about an hour. Meanwhile, you're to come with me, Warden Hawke."
Alistair's fists clenched. "Where are you taking him?"
"Alistair, it's fine," said Hawke, hoping that it was. "They wouldn't tell us about supper if they didn't intend for us to live long enough to eat it."
The guard cleared his throat, looking vaguely sheepish.
"Lead on," said Hawke.
He was led a long way through the Palace, past an imposing door, and into a small, elegantly paneled room. Sitting in a large carved chair on a dais was Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir. T
here was no other chair in the room. Loghain intended to put him in the uncomfortable position of having to stand at attention, while still having to look up at his questioner.
All right. I can do this. Can it be worse than Ser Proinsias, when I was twelve years old?
"My lord," he said, bowing. Bowing was good. It gave him time to put his face in order.
"Warden...Hawke... I've had a long conversation about you with Captain Craine."
Hawke made himself look politely interested. Loghain tilted his head to one side, studying him. It was actually a lot worse than Ser Proinsias.
"He thinks you're all right. Are you?"
"I'm not entirely sure what you mean, my lord."
An armored fist came down on the chair arm. "Then you'd bloody well better start being sure! Are you one of Duncan's traitors, or not?"
Being too calm might actually further incense this man.
Hawke bit out, "I was never one of Duncan's men, my lord. I seem to recall being conscripted by him entirely against my will, the day before the battle, and everyone telling me I had no recourse and no appeal. The King seemed to think it was a great honor, in fact, though I can't say I saw it that way myself."
Loghain stared at him, icy blue eyes ominous.
"What do you know about the Grey Wardens?"
"Not much more than anyone else, my lord. We're supposed to fight darkspawn. In fact, we're supposed to be better at it than anyone else. If you're conscripted you have to serve for life. Alistair's been telling me a bit more, but he doesn't know much himself. Seems that Duncan had a policy of not telling the recruits the whole story until they'd been in for a full year."
"What has Alistair told you?"
Hawke frowned. Loghain snarled, "And don't palm me off with rubbish about 'Warden secrets!"
"I don't know if what I know counts as 'secrets,' my lord, though a lot of it is pretty unpleasant and would cause people to shy away from Joining. I will tell you, though, that the Wardens take their secrets very seriously. I saw Duncan kill a man who knew too much."
That absolutely riveted the Teyrn's attention.
"Start at the beginning."
So Hawke saw nothing for it but to be honest, as far as possible. What did he care about protecting the Grey Wardens, when he had a family to protect instead? He told about collecting a vial of darkspawn blood, about retrieving the old treaties—
"We'll talk about those in a minute," said Loghain, looking interested. "Go on."
So he told about his fellow recruits, and how they were given a potion that clearly contained darkspawn blood. How one died, poisoned, and how the other tried to escape and was cut down.
"Alistair was there? He watched this? Any of the others?"
"Just Alistair, my lord. I never met any of the other Wardens to talk to. Saw a few around camp, but they kept themselves to themselves, you know. Alistair's told me a bit about some of them. They sound like they were drunk, most of the time. Good fighters, but not very disciplined."
Loghain snorted at that, and waved at Hawke to go on.
"I knew Duncan and Alistair would kill me if I didn't drink, so I did. I saw horrible things: darkspawn and a great foul dragon leering at me. I think I was in the Fade, but it was realer than that. I woke up after a bit. Alistair said something that makes me think that people dying during the initiation is pretty common. Duncan wanted to know what I'd seen. He said the dragon I saw was the Archdemon. He said you could tell because it was Tainted."
"Oh, really?" Loghain raised a skeptical brow.
"I don't know if the Archdemon or not, my lord, but I can tell you that I've seen that dragon whenever I sleep. Alistair says that all Wardens have terrible nightmares, and that they're worst during a Blight. We've taken the Taint into ourselves, and it gives us a connection to the darkspawn. It's why Wardens can sense them. Of course, darkspawn can sense us, too. Older Wardens can sort of set the nightmares aside. I've haven't learned yet. Haven't had a decent night's sleep since I Joined."
"What else?"
"All right," Hawke sighed. Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. "Alistair says that Wardens rarely have children, because the Taint interferes with that. Obviously, I certainly haven't told my mother about that bit. She won't like it: I'll tell you that for nothing. I can't say I like it myself."
Loghain merely looked thoughtful. "Go on."
"We're hungry all the time. The Taint gives us strength and stamina—I can keep going in a fight a lot better than I could before—but it requires more fuel. Wardens eat like pigs. The truth's the truth."
"I've noticed that myself. I just thought that Wardens were pigs."
"Some of them, I suppose, my lord."
That elicited a harsh laugh from the Teyrn.
"And we don't live long," Hawke finally said. "Alistair said that we can't expect more than thirty years at most once we've Joined, if we're not killed in battle before that. The Taint is poison, after all. It kills us, sooner or later. Surviving the Joining just means a slow death instead of a quick one."
"I see." Loghain thought about that awhile. Then he narrowed those cold blue eyes.
"And what about the Orlesians?"
It would be foolish to pretend not to know what he meant.
"Nobody told me anything, but I was just Joined. Alistair goes on about Wardens being apolitical, but I don't if that's true or not. I know that's what he was told. I asked him where the nearest Warden post was, if we needed help—because we clearly don't know everything we should—but he said the nearest was thousands of miles away. I don't see how that can be true. I asked my mother on the way up here, and she says there's a Warden post at Ansburg, in the Free Marches, and that's not all that far, really. I don't know why we couldn't ask for help from there as easily as from the Wardens in Astrid."
"A fair point, Warden Hawke. Your mother... a Marcher lady, I understand. She told Captain Craine that she was a daughter of Lord Amell of Kirkwall."
"That's true, my lord."
Why was he suddenly so uneasy?
Loghain looked at him, and then asked, "Would that be the same daughter of Lord Amell —Leandra Amell—who eloped with an apostate mage named Malcolm Hawke on the eve of her marriage some twenty-three years ago?"
Oh, shit.
Hawke knew his face was speaking for him. He fought to gain control of it. Loghain gave him a faint, wintry smile.
"I have sources, too, young Liam Hawke. I had my people look into your background very carefully, once I received word that you were alive. Your neighbors had quite a bit to tell, and it was not hard to put it together with information already in our archives. Your mother's elopement was quite the scandal in its day. Tell me, are you a mage?"
"No, my lord. I did not inherit my father's...talents."
"Nor your brother, that brawny, surly young swordsman. He reminds me of me. Your sister, is it?"
Hawke made his face utterly blank.
"My sister is not a mage, my lord."
"You're devoted to your family. That's admirable. I certainly mean them no harm. Nor do I believe in locking mages and their... 'talents' away where they're of no use to Ferelden."
"My father," Hawke said, anger rising, "was the best man I've ever known. And my sister is a sweet and gentle young girl who has never hurt a soul. They're people, not anybody's tools."
Loghain gave him a quelling look.
"I do not, as I say, mean your sister any harm. I will, of course, be speaking to her and your mother. They will be safe and comfortable here, as long as you remain a loyal son of Ferelden."
"I've always been loyal to Ferelden!"
"So you say. Tell me about your connection to this Sister Wanda."
Hawke looked briefly blank, and then actually laughed. "No connection. I know her, of course. She came to Lothering about two years ago. Not a priest, but a lay sister. She tells stories. The other sisters think she's off her head. I can't say I know muc
h else, other than that she's obviously originally from Astrid. Why she took it into her head to get in a fight on Alistair's behalf, I have no idea. He'd never met her before. I've never had anything to do with the woman. In my situation, there nothing to be gained by doing anything that draws the attention of the Chantry."
"That's true, I suppose," said Loghain. "Unless Sister Wanda was complicit in keeping your sister's... condition... a secret."
"She'd never do that," Hawke scoffed. It was too ridiculous for him to take offense. "Nobody in the Chantry can be trusted, even if we had the kind of coin to pay them off. We have to go to services sometimes, because if you don't people begin to talk, but we certainly never invited Templars or priests to supper or anything like that. The only reason our family kept having to move early on is because Father was softhearted, and any hard-luck story had him out there healing people who then couldn't wait to turn him in for the bounty. We'd bloody well learned our lesson long before we reached Lothering. As to Sister Wanda, I certainly didn't want her taking an interest in us, and then tattling to her superiors."
"You don't think much of the Chantry," Loghain observed idly.
"No. I suppose I don't. They've never done anything for us, or anybody else I know. Busybodies, the lot of them, and always asking for coin. And thinking they know more than they do, like that old hag—I mean, like the priest at the council, interfering in military matters, when the mage was making good sense."
"What happened at the Tower of Ishal?"
So Hawke told the story again, in meticulous detail, led by the Teyrn's questions. He had nothing to hide, and not much to be ashamed of, so he told it frankly and openly, not caring if he implied that the Teyrn's men had been careless when they checked out the lower levels.
"What do you know about Warden Alistair?" Loghain asked. "Has he told you anything about his background?"
Dragon's Era- No Man's Land Page 38
