Chapter 64: Tattling and Embarrassment

Greagoir followed through with his end of the deal, and even offered us one better – the use of the Circle's boat to get to Redcliffe. We agreed gratefully, and decided to meet in the morning to greet Anders, recruit him, and board the boat. Wynne would accompany Irving and Greagoir back to the Tower to make sure Anders was ready to travel.

Before they left, I decided to broach the subject of Meredith. I wanted only Irving and Greagoir to hear, so I asked the two men for a minute of their time.

"So, I'm hoping now you can concede that I am what I say, that I'm not from here." Both men nodded, looking slightly puzzled. "That book I told you about? The one that predicts the future here? It keeps going, well past the events of the Blight. And it's not good news."

I must have looked as nauseous as I felt when I thought about Kirkwall, because Irving looked concerned. "What is the matter, my dear? Surely it cannot be so dire. You've already said we defeat the Blight."

"We do. But after that ... there's going to be a war. Between mages and templars. The specifics don't matter, particularly, but there are two things that can, possibly, slow things down and restore some sanity. One I am taking care of, and I will not tell you. But the other ... you need to know that the trigger, the one who truly starts the war, is Kirkwall's Knight-Commander – Meredith Stannard."

Irving looked horrified, but I noted Greagoir only looked thoughtful. "You don't look surprised, Knight-Commander. I'm guessing you've met Meredith?"

He nodded. "She's ... devout, I'll give her that." The way he said devout, it sounded like 'crazy'. I couldn't disagree.

Irving's frown deepened. I sighed. "She'll become much worse, if you can imagine. She's going to be exposed to a magical artifact made out of Red Lyrium; she'll have it made into a sword, actually. Red Lyrium is extremely toxic; it will drive her mad – deepen her paranoia, remove her ability to reason. She'll end up executing dozens of mages or making them Tranquil, even ones that have passed their Harrowing and are not practicing blood magic; she will turn the Gallows into an actual prison, again, allowing abuse to happen, getting involved in Lyrium smuggling ... She will push the mages to their breaking points, quite literally forcing many innocent people to turn to blood magic, because it's that, Tranquility, or death.

"Because of her, a mage underground will spring up, dedicated to freeing the mages, and when she goes too far, it will explode into war. And after the Kirkwall Circle falls, the others will start to fall, one by one. It's possible to prevent the Circle here from falling, with the right reforms, but the rest are doomed.

"The only way I can see to prevent some of the bloodshed is for Meredith to be removed as Knight-Commander. And I don't mean years from now, when the damage is already done; I mean now. Before she gets her hands on that Idol. Before she goes completely mad. She needs to be kept away from mages at all costs."

Greagoir turned to pace, but I was happy to see he hadn't dismissed my claims out of hand. "What you suggest is not an easy thing. With no evidence of wrongdoing, I will never be able to convince the Grand Cleric, never mind the Divine, that she must be reassigned."

"Actually, if you're talking to Elthina, you might try telling her to pander less to the nobility, send her sisters and brothers to help the poor once in a while, and stop assuming that a miracle will happen on her doorstep. Andraste favours those who use their position and abilities to help others, and those who do their duty; all she ever seems to do is avoid hers, leaving it 'in the Maker's Hands'."

Irving snickered, and Greagoir shot him an annoyed glance. "You're speaking of the Grand Cleric, woman. Show some respect."

"I respect those who deserve it, Knight-Commander. Neither Meredith nor Elthina do."

He shook his head irritably. "If we get back to Meredith, what would you suggest I do? You know that no one will believe me when I tell them she's a danger."

I thought about it, and inspiration struck. "Have you sent Cullen to Kirkwall yet?"

His shocked expression morphed into a wry chuckle. "That's very disconcerting, you know. I have not. I haven't even mentioned it yet."

"Well, he needs a bit of time to ... recover, but once he has, he should be the new Knight-Commander. My suggestion? Get him on your side, warn him about Meredith, and have him send you reports. He won't have the confidence to report a superior for misuse of command, not until she's stark raving mad at any rate. Encourage him to write to you about anything he sees as being ... not right, and perhaps you can use that as evidence?" Greagoir nodded, deep in thought. "Or frankly, just have someone assassinate her now. It would probably be easier."

Greagoir looked up sharply, but relaxed when he saw me grinning. I won't tell him I'm half-serious. "I'm not sure that would help, honestly; she'd just end up a martyr for mage-haters."

I grinned. "You do have a sense of humour! Well done."

He smirked. "What should I tell Ser Cullen to look for?"

"Tell him to keep count of the number of Tranquil, and ask the pretty ones about their sex lives. There was a strong implication some of the Tranquil were being used as sex slaves. And find a way to have her sword examined, by mages or the Tranquil or someone, whoever can recognise it for what it is. I suspect the rest will be obvious."

Greagoir finally left, with Wynne and Irving in tow; I was happy that they hadn't dismissed my concerns, but remained unconvinced that anything would come of it. Sighing, I returned to my spot near the fire.

It was near supper, and all the concentrating I'd been doing with Greagoir had given me a headache. I picked at some food, suddenly nervous to meet Anders, still anxious about Alistair, and overall irritable. Leli had asked for my phone, so I wandered off to sit on the shore until sunset. Zev joined me, this time, and I wondered if they'd drawn straws for who would come find me; nevertheless I was grateful for his company.

He didn't ask, didn't push, just sat quietly beside me and let me think.

"Zev?"

"Yes, my dove?"

"Am I being too hard on him?" I couldn't say his name, but I knew Zev would understand who I meant.

"No, Bellissima. He made a mistake, a grave one, and it is entirely up to you to decide how to respond. There is no such thing as a 'standard' amount of harshness in situations like this, yes?"

I sighed. "That doesn't help."

"I know. I am sorry. If I may ask ... do you love him still?"

I nodded, then buried my face in my hands. He put one arm around my shoulders and waited. When I looked up, he continued.

"He is set on pursuing you. He wishes to make amends."

"I know."

"Do you wish him to stop?"

I paused, watching the sunset reflect beautiful colours on the water of Lake Calenhad.

"I just don't know."

We sat quietly again until the sun finally set, and I clambered to my feet to head back to camp. On my way back, I heard music playing softly from Alistair's tent, and I smiled sadly. I could have sung along, not that I would have where anyone could hear me. The song he'd chosen was "Let her go" by Passenger.

You only need the light when it's burning low Only miss the sun when it starts to snow Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low Only hate the road when you're missing home Only know you love her when you let her go And you let her go...

Staring at the bottom of your glass Hoping one day you'll make a dream last But dreams come slow, and they go so fast

You see her when you close your eyes, Maybe one day you'll understand why Everything you touch surely dies

Staring at the ceiling in the dark Same old empty feeling in your heart Cause love comes slow and it goes so fast

Well you see her when you fall asleep But never to touch, and never to keep Cause you loved her too much and you dived too deep.

Well you only need the light when it's burning low Only miss the sun when it starts to snow Only know you love her when you let her go.

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low Only hate the road when you're missing home Only know you love her when you let her go And you let her go...

My gaze found Leliana, the last person I knew had my phone, and she tilted her head, gesturing toward my tent. I sighed and followed her through the flap, sitting cross-legged on my bedroll.

"He asked for my phone?"

"No. I gave it to him. I told him that I'd figured out what he'd been doing, with the songs, and that I had chosen one he should listen to. I think you heard it, yes?"

"Leli! I asked you not to do anything. I asked you to give me some time."

"I know, but, my friend ... he is hurting you. Both of you. I didn't understand just how badly until today. Every time one of you picks a song and sends it to the other, both of your hearts bleed. It would be kinder just to use a dagger, and be done with it, no?"

I knew I was going to lose my temper, and I'd taken it out on Leliana before. I wasn't going to do it again. I was already tired and irritable, not acting rationally; she was trying to help me, despite expressly ignoring my wishes. I held my tongue, and asked her to leave me alone. She complied, reluctantly, and departed.

I thought about her words, and my reaction to her essentially telling Alistair to let me go. I thought about how I felt when I heard him listening to that song. I thought about what Zevran had asked me.

Suddenly I was very tired. I changed out of armour and curled up in my blankets, falling straight asleep.

I woke several hours later with a scream. The darkspawn dreams were horrific, and in this one, I could have sworn it was a vision ... of a dwarf being turned into a broodmother. I wondered if it was Laryn. I stumbled out of my tent over to the edge of camp, where I retched into the bushes. I'd heard a saying once – 'I have learned that you can keep vomiting long after you think you're done' – and I'd always thought it only applied to drinking. I had tears running down my face, and probably snot too, given how congested I felt; the whole thing was humiliating. When my stomach finally settled, someone handed me a rag, and I wiped my nose and mouth before sitting back with a gasp. My stomach hurt, and my mouth tasted like I was the one eating darkspawn flesh mixed into a gruel with Maker-knew what else. My benefactor handed me a waterskin, and I rinsed out my mouth and spat before taking a big drink.