Chapter 65: Explanation

By morning, I had porridge going and we actually had some fresh fruit to serve with it, thanks to Aedan picking up some supplies at the Tower; I was quiet, but that had become normal, and no one seemed bothered. Aedan was a little upset that I had taken his watch, but when I told him about my broodmother dream, he was sympathetic. How Grey Wardens survive thirty years without going mad from sleep deprivation is nothing short of miraculous.

We packed up and headed to the dock for the Circle Tower; Kester rowed us over four at a time, which took a while. Once we were all assembled, we sent Dariel and Morrigan straight to the Tower's boat with all of our gear, and the rest of us went inside. Dariel seemed close to wetting himself. Keep the apostates as far from the Circle as possible, thanks.

We got a lot of interesting looks from people prowling the halls, and I guessed the gossip of our arrival must have spread, because there were more mages and templars wandering through the foyer than I thought would have been usual. Shale drew a great deal of attention, as did Sten and Gorim, for their obvious physical differences from the elven and human crowd; even Tomas was stared at, and I noticed that all of the 'residents' looked exceptionally pale. The windows in the Tower were all high and tiny; the mages never saw direct sunlight. Tomas' dark complexion was as exotic to them as a giant, grey Qunari. I smiled.

Greagoir, Wynne, and Irving finally appeared, and Wynne's face was like a thunderhead; behind them, shuffling along, was a tall, extremely emaciated, grey-skinned mage with greasy blond hair in a loose ponytail. He looked like he hadn't eaten in months, or bathed for that matter; as he got closer, I saw that the whites of his eyes were bloodshot, and he was squinting owlishly as he walked. His shuffling gait looked unbalanced and uncomfortable, and I guessed that he was weak from months of incarceration.

"Anders?" I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to hide the horror on my face.

This is Anders? What in the hell did Greagoir do, throw him in there and forget about him? I couldn't reconcile my memory of the healer from Awakenings, or even DA2, with this gaunt, weak creature, until he looked up when I said his name, and I caught his eye. Ah, there you are.

I smiled, trying not to look as though his condition made me feel ill; Greagoir gave him a bit of a push so he came to stand by me.

"This woman has taken responsibility for your actions, mage. May the Maker have mercy on both of you if I hear that you have betrayed her faith in you, because I certainly won't." Greagoir turned away, signalling to the templars around him; they began to herd the curious mages out of the foyer, and soon we were alone. Even Irving left, with one last concerned look.

Tomas approached Anders, his expression concerned. "Anders? I'm Tomas."

When the mage barely even acknowledged him, Tomas tried again. "Anders, will you be safe to travel? We are leaving by boat as soon as possible, and I need to know if you can make it."

When he looked up, his eyes flashed, but his voice sounded lifeless. "Why don't you ask my templar jailor? It is her decision, after all. Oh, I should mention, I'll be due for another dose of magebane soon."

I blanched, and realised that no one had explained to him what was going on. I looked at Wynne, desperate; she shook her head, and motioned towards the exit. I realised she was right; talking about it the details here was not going to solve the problem. But something needed to be said.

"Anders, my name is Sierra. I am not your jailor, and you will not be given any more magebane. We are leaving this place, and you will never have to come back. No one will hurt you or abuse you in any way, not as long as I draw breath. We can talk about this more once we are away from this disgusting Tower. The question is, can you walk that far, or do we need to carry you?"

He looked at me, skepticism clearly visible in his expression. "Well, I've never seen them actually use the 'good templar' part of the good templar, bad templar routine. Usually it's bad templar, worse templar."

I snorted, relieved that somewhere under all the filth and abuse was the Anders I knew. "Oh good, another comedian. Come on. Please. Just tell me if you can make it to the boat?"

"I'll make it."

I motioned towards the door, but stayed at his side; in this state, he looked like he was about to fall over at each step. And he smelled completely rank; I couldn't believe that Wynne hadn't at least gotten him a bath before we left. I glared in her direction, but her unhappy expression when she looked at Anders was motherly, not angry. I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt until I knew exactly what had happened.

It was a slow process, but we made it out the door, and across the small spit of land to the dock where the boat waited for us. Aedan and Alistair had to assist Anders climbing the gangplank, but he patently refused to be carried, and I couldn't blame him. The light seemed to bother him, so we hurried into a shaded area of the deck where he could be more comfortable. The captain approached us and spoke with Aedan, briefly; he then left to begin the process of casting off.

"Anders? What would you like first – food, a bath, or rest?" He looked at me, obviously not trusting me. I couldn't blame him. "Listen. We will tell you the whole story later, but Greagoir's full of crap. I may have templar skills, but I am not a templar. I'm not even Andrastian. I have no intention of being your jailor or watching over you. Did they even tell you you've been conscripted into the Grey Wardens?"

He jerked at that, and seemed to think about it for a minute. "A Grey Warden? Me?" He looked away, then finally smiled. It was a small smile, obviously an expression he hadn't used in a while, but it was there. "As in, outside of the Chantry's jurisdiction? I'm free?"

"Yes-"

Tomas spoke up, interrupting me. "In some ways, yes. Free from the Chantry, free to use your magic for the good of Ferelden, free from persecution. Grey Wardens do not discriminate against mages; in fact, we value mage recruits highly. But you are still a Grey Warden recruit, and you were conscripted, not a volunteer. There are expectations of you that we will explain later. I will not lie to you – Joining the Grey Wardens requires great sacrifice, and it changes you forever. There is no going back."

Anders nodded, looking sort of dazed. I cleared my throat. "My question remains. Bath, food, or bed?"

"I think ... all three of those, in that exact order, if you don't mind."

"Deal. I'm guessing there's not an actual bathtub on this crate, but I'll go find out. If not, Aedan, could you find Anders a cabin of his own, and I'll bring some water?"

Aedan nodded at me. It seemed everyone was happy for me to take charge of this situation, no one quite sure where to start. I figured if I could just make it seem like everything was normal, we'd get where we needed eventually.

There was a crew member standing nearby, and Aedan and I approached him together. "Can you help us?"

"Probably, my Lady. I am Piers, the Bosun for this ship. I can help you get settled into cabins, show you around, whatever you require. I am at your disposal."

"Is there somewhere for someone to have a bath? Like, a real one?" I asked.

He explained that there was no tub, but each cabin had a basin and towels for cleaning, and he told me where to go to get hot water. Aedan then had him escort them all to cabins, and I took off to get the water. It didn't take long to find a large cauldron of water in the back of the galley boiling, and I grabbed two large buckets of hot water and headed back to where the guest quarters were.

This was more like a cruise ship than a cargo boat; I could barely feel the movement as we pulled away from the dock. To my amazement, there were about a dozen cabins available for us. There were two cabins with open doors when I arrived; one was empty, but I spied my pack sitting on a chair, and the other held a very exhausted looking Anders. The cabins were tiny, as I would have expected, but at least they had doors, unlike where he'd spent the last several months.

I put the buckets down, and he didn't even acknowledge me; hurrying back to my room, I dug through my pack until I found some soap and shampoo, and brought them to him.

"Listen, I'm going to go change out of this armour, and then head to the galley and find some food. I figure we might as well use the Tower's supplies since we're on their boat. Why don't you clean up, and join me there whenever you're ready? I'm sure that bosun guy can point you in the right direction. Do you need help to get cleaned up, though? I can coerce one of the guys to help, I'm sure, if you need. Do you have clean clothes to wear? Do you require healing?"

He gestured to a pile of cloth, and I recognised Alistair's spare tunic on top. "I'll manage on my own for cleaning, and as for healing – my magebane is wearing off. I'll be fine. So, you're just going to leave me in here, alone?"

"Um, that was my plan ... oh crap, I didn't even think – you've just been in solitary for months. Would you prefer I stay? Or I can go get Wynne..."

"No, no. I'm just surprised. You're not quite the templar Greagoir told me to expect."

"Like I said, I'm not a templar at all. That was just the show we needed to put on so that Greagoir would release you."

"Why?" He looked so vulnerable, and I wanted to hug him. And then I remembered how bad he smelled.

"After your bath, nosey-pants. I promise we will tell you everything. Come find me in the galley. And, Anders?" He nodded. "You can close the door. Lock it, even, if you like."

He actually grinned, and I left the room smiling.

When Anders found me, Leli and I were up to our elbows in food. The boat was amazingly well-stocked, and while apparently there was no cook, that gave us free rein in the kitchen. I made a salad, with actual fresh vegetables, and there were potatoes and salted beef. Leli made some sort of meatloaf thing, so I started baking cookies. It was harder than I was used to – digital stoves have definite advantages – and we didn't have any chocolate chips, but the result wasn't bad, even by my estimation.

Anders was clean, his hair damp and tied back tightly, his skin slightly pink from scrubbing. The clothes he'd borrowed from Alistair were long enough – I guessed the two men were similar in height – but the warrior had obviously a much different build than the gaunt mage. He had the pants held up by a thin rope, and looked like he was swimming in the tunic. Despite that, he somehow looked graceful and elegant, and I smiled.

Anders sat at a table, watching us with amusement; Leli was alternating between singing bawdy drinking songs and telling tales of past seductions, trying – successfully – to make me blush. When he came in, I grabbed a plate and put some cheese and fresh fruit on it for him to munch while we cooked. He looked positively shocked at the quantities of food we were piling onto the counter.

"Exactly how many of us are there?" he finally asked.

Leliana and I locked gazes, doing a head count. "Aedan, Alistair, Tomas, Wynne, Morrigan, Sten, Zevran, Dariel, Gorim, and the three of us? Plus Shale, but she doesn't eat. And Prince, who does. So fourteen all told, but twelve for lunch, plus one under the table." He looked confused, and I giggled. "Prince is a mabari."

"I hate dogs," he whined.

"I know. You're a cat person."

He turned a skeptical eye on me. "So you're supposed to be some sort of mind-reader? Maybe I'm just not a pet person."

"Call it a talent." Leliana giggled, and I smirked at her.

"You still haven't explained why there's enough food for double our numbers? Or are you cooking for the crew as well?"

Leliana and I locked gazes again, and she sighed. "I'll grab some more beef."

"I've got the potatoes! In answer to your question, there are thirteen of us eating, but three of those are Wardens, one is a Qunari, and one is someone who I'm guessing has been starved for months. Don't worry, all the food will be eaten."

"If this is what you always eat like, you must spend a fortune on food."

"You have no idea. But when we're on the road, things are a lot leaner, so we've learned to make the best of it when we're somewhere we can indulge."

"So ... I'm to be a Grey Warden?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. It's not as good as true freedom, but it's a lot better than the Circle."

"I think it will work. It's a good cause, at least. There are worse things I could be doing."

"Like starving in a dungeon?"

"And not bathing. Yes, just like that." I smiled, and he returned it; it looked a bit ghastly, with how thin he was, but I was grateful to see it anyway. "So when do I get to hear the whole story?"

"Once everyone has eaten. Which reminds me, where is everyone?"

Leliana replied, "Maybe they all fell overboard?"

"Now that would be a shame. Wait, I know." I whistled, one loud, piercing note, and then waited. In two minutes, Prince came bounding into the galley, and I patted his head. I held up a piece of beef barely smaller than his head. "Prince, if you can go find everyone and get them here in the next ten minutes, you can have this, plus your supper."

He barked, wagged his tail, licked my hand, and ran off. I laughed.

"Maker, I love that dog."

Anders, suddenly looking wary, asked, "I thought you weren't Andrastian?"

"Oh, I'm not. It's just that I'm picking up habits from my Andrastian friends. I wasn't religious before I came here, either, but I used to say 'oh my God' all the time, anyway. It seems to me that when people are swearing by Andraste's panties, or her flaming sword, or whatever, that they're not exactly trying to be pious."