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Merrill quietly unlocked the door to Keeper Marethari’s aravel. “Go on,” she said to Theron. “Find your quiver quickly, while Keeper Marethari is still busy. And, next time, listen to her when she tells you to stop shooting at squirrels, for Mythal’s sake.”
Theron stuck his tongue out at her as he slipped past. “Such a good apprentice,” he teased.
Merrill frowned at that, but she shut the door nearly all the way and kept watch for the Keeper. She couldn’t help herself from sneaking glances at the things Theron riffled through. Keeper Marethari kept such fascinating things — some magical, some shem, some even both.
After a few long minutes of bumping around, Theron called out, “Merrill, what’s this?”
A small bag had spilled open, and something bright and gleaming rested in Theron’s palm. He unfurled it. It was a necklace, but unlike any Merrill had seen before. Fine, golden metal wound and curled around more than a dozen tiny white stones, arranged in a triangle. They glittered and glinted in the moonlight spilling through the doorway.
“It’s a necklace,” Merril said. “So it's not a quiver. Put it back.”
“I know it’s a necklace, dummy. But why is it like that? Is it magic?”
“Maybe? I don’t think so. You should keep looking for your quiver.” Merrill hated the fluttering of curiosity in the pit of her belly. It was wrong to look through Keeper Marethari’s things. She tried to take the curious feeling and strangle it.
“I’m gonna put this on!” Theron announced, and wrapped the necklace around his neck. It seemed too big on him, drooping in the wrong places. “Help me with the clasp.”
“No! Put it back!”
“I'll put it on you then! I wanna see it!”
“I don’t—” Merrill began, but Theron grabbed her shoulder and spun her. Merrill started. Keeper Marethari was standing in the open doorway. Theron noticed her a beat later, and stowed the necklace behind his back, but it was too late.
“Theron, Merrill, I am very disappointed in both of you, sneaking in here,” intoned the Keeper in her dry voice.
“Sorry, Keeper Marethari,” both Merrill and Theron said in unison. Merrill looked at the floor, and added lamely, “I really am. I should have known better.”
“Yes,” replied Keeper Marethari. “Well,” she asked Theron, “what did you find?”
“We think it’s a necklace,” Theron replied, and stepped forward to show her.
“How astute.” Was the Keeper joking with them? Either they weren’t in trouble at all, or they were really in trouble.
“But why’s it like that? Is it magic?” asked Theron.
“No, just was made by shemlen.”
“How come you have it? Did you steal it?”
Merrill smacked his arm. “Shh! Keeper Marethari would never steal anything,” she said loudly. “The Keeper always says stealing draws the Dread Wolf’s eye.”
The Keeper continued as if Merrill hadn’t spoken. “I did not steal it,” she said, “though I suspect it may have been stolen before. It was given to me, many years ago, by a young woman traveling between alienages.”
“A flat ears?” Theron gasped. “I thought they stay in the cities.”
“That is one word for our cousins, but not a very kind one. And they do typically stay in one city, but sometimes they move between them for very special occasions. This young woman was traveling with her parents for her wedding, and the necklace was to be her dowry — that is a gift that comes with shem brides on their wedding day. The woman and her family met some bandits on the road, and fled into the woods. I saw her running and frightened the bandits off, and let our cousins stay the night. Though I said it was unnecessary, the young woman gave me the necklace as a gift.”
“Why don’t I remember this?”
“This was two years before you were born, child.”
Theron looked disappointed. “That’s the whole story?” he asked. “Why do you think it was stolen?”
Marethari laughed deeply. “Child, one of those diamonds — the small stones — is worth more than our cousins see in their entire lives. But shem laws are none of my concern, so I kept it here.”
Merrill could have asked a million questions about the shemlen, but she didn’t want to get in even more trouble. Theron opened his mouth to ask something else, but Merrill shot him a look.
The Keeper continued, “Well, both of you, run along now— “Theron rushed for the door with a smirk, seemingly relieved to have gotten off with nothing more than a story “—and tell Maren you will be mucking out the halla pen all this week.” Merrill just caught Theron’s face fall as he left the aravel.
“Of course, Keeper Marethari,” Merrill said dutifully, and followed behind him. It could have been much worse.
****
Shianni hucked a snowball at her cousin. Well, more like a snow-mud-ball-thing. It smacked against Kallian and left a brown streak on her tunic. Shianni laughed, big and loud.
Then a snow-mud-ball-thing hit Shianna in the side of the face. That one came from the new girl, Neria. “Oh, I’ll get you for that one!” Shianni called, and chucked two handfuls of snow-mud back at her. Neria threw her arms wildly over her face, but they went wide anyway.
Shianni looked at her new friend, and her heart soared to see her dirty and laughing. Neira had arrived two weeks ago with her mother, and if anyone knew what had driven them out of their former alienage, nobody would tell Shianni. And Neira walked around every day so quiet, eyes dark and heavy. So when it finally snowed, even just a little, Shianni and Kallian had conspired to drag her out to play.
“Humpf!” A voice sounded from across the square, and the trio turned to look. It was Elva, her face tight and mean.
Kallian yelled, “You got a problem, Elva?”
“Aye, I do!” The old shrew wagged her finger and advanced on them. “You three are nearly young women. You shouldn’t be playing around in the dirt like this. It’s not ladylike.”
Shianni sniggered. “Ladylike? I don’t see any ladies here. But if you’d like...” she said, and hucked a snow-mud-ball at Elva’s face. Before she could see where it struck, Shianna turned tail and ran, friends right on her heels. The three of them took off into an alley, and collapsed against a wall, all breathless.
Neira was the first to recover. “That woman was awful, like something out of one of my nightmares,” she said. “But she was a little bit right; my ma’ll tan me if I come home so dirty.”
Kallian joked, “What, Valendrian’s so stingy he won’t even let you use his tub?”
Neira laughed; Valendrian was the opposite of stingy. “Nooo! He’s nice. I’d just still have to walk in the front door looking like this,” Neira said.
“Come on then. You can clean up at mine.” Kaillian set off down the alley, then another, and Shianni and Neira followed.
They had almost circled back to the front gate when Neira froze.
Shianni peered out. There were humans approaching the gate, wearing silver armor with some kind of funny symbol on it. “Wonder what the guards are doing here? You don’t think Elva called them?” she asked Kallian.
“Nah. They look kinda fancy for guards,” Kaillan said.
“Templars,” Neira whispered, barely audible. Her eyes were wide.
“What’s that?” said Shianni.
Neira looked at Shianni, then Kallian. “I have to leave now. This was fun. Thanks. Bye.” Neira gave a weak smile, then turned on her heel and ran off.
Shianni would never see her again.
****
Cullen was on his way to an important meeting. At least, it was probably an important meeting. He wasn’t entirely sure. He’d only been at the Circle Tower a month and a half, so everything felt important.
Cullen was very busy, so he was not looking much at the mages he strode past. He was definitely not looking at the Surana girl, on her knees, scrubbing the floors. He was not noticing the rhythmic motions of her soft white hands. He was not looking at the way her novice robes gapped at the neck, showing the tops of—
Suddenly, Cullen’s face hit the floor with a deafening clatter.
He pushed himself up with his arms and looked behind him. There! The Amell boy, one of the older novices, walking a bit too fast away from him. Cullen tried to yell “You! Halt”, but it came out more of a sputter. Still, the mage stopped.
Amell turned around, sporting an all too innocent expression. “Yes?…sir,” he said too sweetly.
“Can you explain how it happened to be that I was just on the floor?” growled Cullen.
“I couldn’t possibly know, sir.”
“Why don’t you give it a try?”
“Maybe you tripped, sir?” The mage was nearly smirking now.
“And who could have tripped me?”
“I’m sure no one tripled you, sir. Perhaps you were just… distracted.”
“Why would I have been distracted?”
The mage glanced to the side, seeming to make a calculation. When he met Cullen’s eyes again, he had an altogether different look about him. “Look, sir , you and I are both men, and only human.” Amell spoke in a stage whisper. “Surely, we have both noticed that there are many lovely, distracting things in this Tower. Take that Surana girl, over there. Not even eighteen, and an elf? Well, it’s only natural to look at her and think about other things she could do on her knees. Very distracting indeed.”
Cullen could have hit him. He should have hit him. Instead, he mastered his anger and said, “It seems you have been quite distracted of late, Amell. A week of solitary confinement should clear your head nicely.”
Cullen grabbed the mage by the shoulder and pushed him down the hall. Amell should have at least had the good grace to protest, but he merely let himself be led.
****
Eleanor Cousland was still puzzling over her letter when she heard a knock at the door. She looked up and saw her youngest daughter, Elissa, standing there, hands folded behind her back.
“Are you writing a letter, mother?” asked Elissa.
“I am attempting to, darling,” Eleanor replied with a sigh. “There’s some problem with the lyrium shipment to the templars at the Jainen Circle. Apparently, the dwarven merchants have been complaining that the payment is short when it arrives back in Orzammar. Except, the merchants count it themselves before they take it, and they have not reported any problems on the roads. Your dear father wants to work this out directly with the lords of Orzammer, but he does not know to whom to write, or the source of the problem, and… dear, you did not come in here to ask about me, did you?”
“I didn’t, though that was fascinating.” Eleanor thought her daughter was being sarcastic, but one could never be sure with Elissa. “I just wanted to give you something for the messenger when you’re done. Save the trip.” Elissa took a letter from behind her back and placed it on the desk.
Eleanor read the address and her heart plummeted. “Kinloch Hold, darling? Are you certain you want to send this?”
Elissa looked defensive. “I’m just writing to Revka Amell’s son, Daylen. We were great friends once, you know–”
“You were small children who played together twice when the Amells were visiting Ferelden,” Eleanor injected quietly.
“And,” Elissa continued insistently, “I think Daylen must be terribly lonely in the Circle, with his family scattered to the winds. I’m sure he appreciates the letters. Even if he never responds.” She added the last phrase under her breath, but Eleanor still heard it.
“You don’t even know if he’s still alive, darling. I have heard the mages’ Harrowing is quite dangerous. And, even if he is, mages stay in their towers. You may never see him again.”
“I might! They do leave sometimes. And even if I don’t, that’s beside the point. It’s just a nice gesture for an old friend.”
Eleanor sighed. Maker deliver her from her strong-willed children.
Elissa said, “Will you mail it for me or not? I can just go find a messenger myself.” She began to reach for the letter, but Eleanor stopped her with a gesture.
“No, darling. I can mail it for you, once I’m done here,” Eleanor said.
Elissa still looked upset, but she forced out a “Thank you, Mother,” before leaving the room.
After a few moments, Eleanor shut the door again. She picked the letter up off the desk and threw it into the fire. An affection between her daughter and a mage could be dangerous, even a platonic one. Eleanor was nearly sure it was purely platonic, anyway. Best not to foster it, regardless. There was nothing Eleanor would not do to protect her family.
****
When Leske came in, Natia and Rica were still getting ready. Well, Natia was sticking more knives into her belt, and Rica was slathering some goop on her face, but it was basically the same thing. Rica looked fucking fantastic, as always. “Damn, Natia, why don’t you ever get dolled up like that for me?” Leske asked.
Natia buckled her last knife and stepped up to him, uncomfortably close. “Cause I’m a lanky, flat-chested, snub-nosed, mean-ass freak,” she said.
“You forgot ‘with a mouth like a surfacer’--” Natia kicked Leske in the shin, “--‘and legs that could break lyrium veins.’ Ow. Hello to you too.”
“Hi, Leske,” Natia said, and stepped back.
“Hello, Leske,” Rica chimed in too. She snapped her little goop box shut and looked at Natia. “You two have a job, I guess?” Natia nodded. “I have to go work now, but please stay safe. For me,” Rica said.
“I will,” said Natia, and kissed Rica on the forehead. “Don’t do anything I would do.” Rica giggled and began to leave. Leske watched her go until the door was shut.
“You’re disgusting,” Natia said.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You wanna hear about the job or not?” said Leske.
“Of course.”
“Basically the same as the one from two weeks ago. Big payment for lyrium coming in with some surfacer merchants, and it's on us to lighten their load before it reaches the counting house. You know, cause it's real heavy.”
Natia smiled wickedly. “Ain’t we just so charitable that way? Let’s get to it then.”
***
Rica let her dress fall to the floor as Lord Bhelen watched. He was smiling. Rica knew he liked this bit, before; taking off clothes slowly, some drinking, making little jokes. It wasn’t bad now that Rica had figured out the right tone to take with him: witty, but not too cynical, and a bit demure.
Rica stepped close to Lord Bhelen and pulled out her hairpin, so that her long hair fell in ringlets across his face. Lord Bhelen smiled and wrapped the strands around his fingers. “Maker, your hair,” he sighed. “You know there are noblewomen who would kill to have hair like this?”
“Well, I had better keep my distance from them, then,” Rica chuckled. “I like being alive.”
Lord Bhelen laughed loudly, and pulled her into his lap for a long kiss. He tasted of ale, and Rica could feel his hands roaming over her shift. He pulled away and said, “You. I have a gift for you.”
Rica demurred a bit, “Oh, but my Lord has been so generous already. Though, if you insist.”
“I do insist,” Lord Bhelen declared. He moved Rica’s legs so that she was sitting with her back to him and said, “Eyes closed.”
Rica did as she was told. She heard some shuffling behind her, and hoped very much this wouldn’t be when she found out Lord Bhelen liked to take knives to casteless girls like some of the other nobles. She’d heard stories. Rica felt cool metal against her neck, and she peeked.
It was a necklace, but unlike any Rica had seen. The chain was gold, and wound strangely around an absolute embarrassment of jewels. The jewels were shiny enough, but their edges were rounded, and Rica could even see bubbles in them. They reminded her of nothing so much as the cheap jewelry Beraht bought her and the other girls. Still, when Lord Bhelen said, “Open your eyes,” Rica gasped and exclaimed, “Oh, it’s beautiful! Thank you, my Lord.”
Lord Bhelen turned her around so he could admire Rica in the necklace. His hands and eyes moved greedily across her. “You are,” he agreed. “Maker, I want to watch you march up and down the hallways, just like that.”
Rica felt a lump jump in her throat. “But my Lord,” she said, “what about your father and brothers?”
“Out on some business.”
“And the servants?”
Lord Bhelen blinked. He paused a moment, then said, “I hadn’t thought of them. I suppose I’d order them to avert their eyes. Or not.” He quirked an eyebrow. “That could be part of the fun.”
Rica swallowed. She began, “Well, if you–”
“No, you’re right,” Bhelen cut her off. “That would be cruel. You’re very good, you know? Always encouraging me to think of the little people.” He pulled her into a deep kiss, and Rica felt herself relax. Rica knew well what to do next, letting her hands move by instinct.
But then, the door swung with a crash. “Bhelen?” a man’s voice rang out.
Rica jumped up behind the chair, grateful to still be in her shift at least. The man at the door was Lord Duran, Bhelen’s brother, looking down at some papers in his hand.
He said, “Father got a strange letter from some human lord about a problem with lyrium payments. Do you know to whom the pass the–” Lord Duran cut off abruptly as he caught sight of Rica. He stared at her, and his face screwed up in anger.
Lord Bhelen didn’t seem to notice. “Lyrium payments , you say? Lady Helmi runs the counting house, so talk to her. And Lord Meino likes to keep an eye on the lyrium mines, so it wouldn’t hurt to bring him in too.”
Lord Duran didn’t say anything. He just stared at Rica, knuckles growing white around the letter. “Lord Duran,” Rica whispered and inclined her head, politeness clashing with fear.
“Brother?” Lord Bhelen asked, finally noticing his strangeness.
Lord Duran’s mouth worked, and finally he spat out, “You gave your doxy our mother’s necklace?!”
“I’m sorry?”
“I know that necklace! It was a gift from King Maric to our mother on her wedding day! And you would give it away like this?”
“Oh, calm down, Duran. It’s a fake anyway.”
“What?” Lord Duran’s eyes widened, and he dropped the papers. The focus had moved off Rica, and she could relax again. She even privately congratulated herself for her good eye.
Lord Bhelen looked up at Rica and gestured for the necklace. Rica unclasped it and put it in his hand. Lord Bhelen stood and dropped the necklace on the floor. Then, slowly and methodically, he crushed the largest gem under his heel. Lord Bhelen lifted his foot. “See?” he said.
Lord Duran kept staring. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said. “Is all the jewelry fake?”
“No. Just this one. King Maric sent a letter detailing all his gifts, but when the case arrived, one necklace was missing. The smiths had to make a replacement very quickly. Hence the honestly shoddy work.”
“So you’re saying…”
Lord Bhelen gave a long-suffering sigh and said, “The real necklace was stolen, many years ago. Where it ended up, only the Stone knows.”