Nolo, Nolle, Nolui : Chapter 28

[nithu]

Teagan ushered the two wardens, Wynne and Zevran into the small sitting room and poured a generous snifter of brandy for each of them, then one for himself. Alistair and Fearghal took up positions at each end of the sofa, stiffly formal with each other. Teagan cast a surreptitious glance at them. At least they're not fighting any more. Zevran lounged casually in an armchair, while Wynne seated herself more sedately in another armchair. Teagan passed out the brandy glasses then seated himself in the remaining chair.

 

Zevran sipped his brandy, then grinned. "Antivan?" he asked.

"Only the best for my brother," said Teagan, smiling.

"He's going to send you a bar bill when he wakes up, if you're not careful," joked Fearghal.

"Er... Wynne. I wanted to ask you about what you found when you examined the arl. I'm assuming there's nothing immediate you can do, otherwise you'd have done it already."

"Indeed," she said, her manner a little cool. "Unfortunately the exact poison used remains a mystery. It appears that Jowan was never told very much about it. He maintains that he destroyed the vial upon using the poison so we have very little to go on. Frankly, I've never seen anything like it. The poison doesn't seem intended to kill, or even damage, merely to incapacitate. If it wasn't for the fact that he can't be woken, it would appear as if Arl Eamon is in a deep, but natural sleep."

"So he's not in any danger?" asked Fearghal.

"On the face of it, no. However, bodies are made to move around. The longer he lies there the weaker he will get. His muscles are starting to stiffen, his lungs aren't functioning correctly. As times goes on the risk of organ failure or pneumonia becomes greater and if that happens, there will only be so much I can do."

"It doesn't make any sense! Why would you poison someone to put them to sleep?" Fearghal looked across at Zevran.

"There is a rare group of poisons that can be used to incapacitate a person. They are rare because the ingredients are scarce and therefore very expensive, but also because usually the intent of a poison is to kill a person, yes?" Seeing Fearghal nod, Zevran continued. "Usually, the poison is administered and some short time later the antidote will be given to wake the person up again. You understand it is not practical, usually, to keep a person in this state for very long and as Wynne had told you, the person can sicken and die in such a state. In the instances I have heard of, the antidote was administered within a couple of days."

"But Eamon has been asleep now for weeks," protested Teagan. "Plus, I'm sure Jowan never had the antidote."

Zevran shrugged. "Who can guess at the extent of Loghain's plan? I would wager it is he who has the antidote, but as to how and when, or even if he intended to use it... The active ingredient for both the poison and antidote are found only in the Tevinter Imperium. They control their sale closely, for they are valuable commodities. The knowledge of how to create them is held by only a select few and each poison is crafted individually with a matching antidote."

Fearghal was mystified. "Tevinter? I'd thought that Loghain was an unlikely person to hire an Antivan assassin; exotic Tevinter poisons seem even more unlikely. I wonder if this is Howe's doing too?"

"If that is so, my friend, it would mean that Howe and Loghain have been working together for some time," said Zevran.

Fearghal nodded absently, lost in thought; the mention of Loghain's name in the same breath as Howe's had sparked a realisation in him. The War Council, before Ostagar! Loghain was there and must know who I was, which means Howe definitely knows I'm not only alive, but a Grey Warden. "Thank you, Zev. You've been very helpful."

That's the second time he's called me Zev. Zevran shrugged nonchalantly. "I have done little enough. Sadly I am unable to provide a solution, merely information about the problem."

Alistair cleared his throat. "So, we need to get our hands on this antidote... assuming Loghain hasn't destroyed it?"

"I suppose that depends on what his intention was at the start, and we have no way of knowing that," replied Fearghal.

"There may be another solution," said Teagan quietly. "Isolde had got it into her head that the Urn of Sacred Ashes could heal Eamon. She'd been in touch with a scholar from Denerim, Brother Genetivi. I thought Isolde was wasting time on a wild goose chase, but I was going through some of her papers earlier and he'd been in touch with her recently and, well, it sounded like he might really be on to something."

Fearghal groaned. "So our options are trying to get the antidote from Loghain or finding a mythical religious relic." He looked across at Alistair. "Unless you have any other suggestions, Alistair?"

Alistair looked startled at being asked for ideas, and blushed. He shook his head and sipped at his brandy, feeling foolish.

Fearghal looked thoughtful. "Either way, we have to go to Denerim. Once we're there we can try and find out more about what Loghain's up to and go and see this scholar. To be honest, I don't think we can get close enough to Loghain to get the antidote. If his security is that lax, we'd be as well letting Zevran loose on him." He grinned, "Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone."

"If we get that close to him, you can set me loose on him," growled Alistair.

Both Teagan and Fearghal raised their eyebrows at Alistair's vehemence, recognising it as unusual, but neither remarked on it.

"We also have to consider the possibility that we will fail," said Fearghal quietly, with an apologetic glance at Teagan.

"I-I know, but let's cross that bridge when... if we come to it," said Teagan. "If the worst comes to the worst, then know that I will support you wholeheartedly; however, Eamon is the man you really need. He has far more political experience than I and has much more influence." He smiled uncertainly at the two wardens. "If anyone can do this, I believe you can." He stood, setting down his empty glass. "If you'll excuse me, there are some things I need to see to and I'm sure you two need to make plans. If you need anything, let me know. Good night."

Wynne and Zevran also bade them good night and followed Bann Teagan out of the door.

Fearghal groaned after the door had closed behind Teagan and Zevran. "Maker! I wish I had half as much... confidence in our ability to work miracles as Teagan seems to have." He leaned back and stretched his legs out. "I suppose we should leave for Denerim as soon as possible... look up this Brother Genetivi. He should be easier to get to than Loghain, at any rate." Fearghal frowned. "His name seems familiar, but I can't place it."

"He's a historian. They had some of his books at the compound in Denerim. He wrote a history of the first blight, amongst other things," Alistair told him.

Fearghal looked surprised but Alistair was unsure if it was because Genetivi had written such a thing or whether it was because Alistair knew he had. Fearghal shrugged. "Maybe that's it. Fergus was always more interested in that sort of thing than me," he said, then caught himself realising what he'd said. He looked across at Alistair. "My brother," he explained awkwardly.

Fearghal looked away, as Alistair nodded. How could I just mention him casually, like that? As if I'd forgotten?

Alistair watched him carefully, seeing the pain flare in Fearghal's eyes. He tensed, waiting for the anger that always seemed to follow, but there was no sign of it; instead Fearghal looked sad, lost in thought.

Alistair cleared his throat anxiously. "I...um... I wanted to thank you. For this." He pulled at the chain around his neck and fished the amulet out of his shirt."

"I wasn't sure if it was the right one... but... well, I'm glad it was."

"I can't believe you remembered." Seeing Fearghal's look of surprise, Alistair felt his face grow hot, as he mumbled, "I'm not used to people taking much notice of anything I say." He winced at his own words. "Sorry, I'm being pathetic again."

Fearghal felt a flash of irritation. "Maker's breath, Alistair, just stop! If you say something, I'll listen. I tend to do that when people speak to me... unless it's Leliana talking about ribbons... or shoes."

Alistair couldn't help but smile. "All my life I've... ," he paused, trying to find the right words. "It was always made plain to me that I was nothing, nobody. I was to have no... aspirations. I was to keep quiet and not draw attention to myself; just shut up and do what I was told."

Fearghal snorted in disgust. "You know, I have to wonder at what Maric and Eamon were thinking of. I mean, I understand the fear of you maybe raising a rebellion or something, but even so... sleeping in the stable? And then sending you off to the chantry... I suppose it's one way of making sure you don't produce any more pretenders to the throne." He chuckled suddenly. "I wonder what Eamon thought when you became a Grey Warden."

Alistair paled; he felt sick. Oh, Maker! He has no idea.

"What?" demanded Fearghal.

"We need to talk about some of the changes that happen when you become a Grey Warden."

"That sounds ominous." Fearghal eyed Alistair warily, then got up and fetched the brandy bottle. He splashed a measure into his own glass, then leaned over and poured some into Alistair's.

"Tell me about these changes," demanded Fearghal. "The hunger... that's one, isn't?"

Alistair nodded and gulped his brandy. "Yes. You'll also be stronger than before, tire less easily, heal more quickly. Duncan also told me that it..." Alistair hesitated, blushing, "it affects fertility. It's almost unheard of for a Warden to father a child after their Joining. In the rare instance it does happen, it's usually soon afterwards, within a year." He looked away, muttering, "I'm never going to have children to threaten the throne."

Alistair looked across at Fearghal and took a deep breath. "There's also The Calling," he said.

Fearghal was staring at him, his expression a mix of horror and anger.

"What?" asked Alistair.

Fearghal collected himself and ignored Alistair's question. "What's The Calling?" he asked, his voice cold.

"The taint; it catches up with us eventually. The dreams get worse... you start to change." Alistair drained his brandy. "Most Wardens go to the Deep Roads at the end. You have about thirty years, give or take. It's not exact." Alistair watched Fearghal carefully, unnerved by his odd reaction. "I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner."

Alistair flinched when Fearghal hurled his empty glass at the wall. "That bastard!" he spat.

"Who?"

"Duncan, that's who!" raged Fearghal, leaping up and pacing the floor.

"Look, I know thirty years doesn't sound like much, but we're in a blight... "

Fearghal stopped and gaped at Alistair. "Not The Calling, you fool! "

Alistair frowned. He's angry because he can't have children? "B-but I thought you only l-liked m-men..." he stammered.

"It's got nothing to do with what I like, Alistair." Fearghal groaned, trying to get a grip on his temper. "My parents... I promised... I'm the last Cousland."

"Oh, I see, but... " Alistair sighed. "It's important to you, isn't it? Carrying on your family name, I mean." He looked away. "I've always hated mine; it's been the bane of my life for as long as can remember."

Some of Fearghal's anger faded. "Pfft! Theirins... johnnies-come-lately... or so my grandfather apparently said." His mouth twisted, almost into a smile.

Alistair stared at him, then sniggered.

Fearghal relaxed slightly. "He was a crusty old coot, by all accounts. Anyway, to answer your question... yes, it's important to me. More than I thought." He threw himself into the armchair and stared at the flames, almost talking to himself. "When I was growing up... it was always Fergus who was going to inherit, and that suited me just fine; he was so much more... suitable. Then he got married and Oren came along fairly quickly. I was off the hook, so to speak."

Fearghal looked up at Alistair, who was perched on the arm of the sofa, listening intently. "It was easy to mock the idea that bloodlines and tradition were important, when I knew that Fergus was going to be the Teyrn after Father." He shrugged. "In some ways, I still think it's ridiculous that someone should have so much, just by an accident of birth, but now... the thought that there will be no Couslands at Highever, after so long... "

Fearghal smiled weakly. "Like you keep reminding me, there's a Blight. I suppose if we can't do something about that, there won't be a Highever to worry about... and if we do, well, I daresay there's a couple of cousins stashed away somewhere that could step up."

Alistair frowned. "Why didn't you say anything... about who you are, I mean?"

"Why would I?" Fearghal asked, obviously surprised.

"Why... ? I don't believe you! You call me an idiot for not telling you who my father was, then not ten minutes later I find out that you're the last survivor of one of the oldest and most important families in Ferelden!" Alistair's voice rose indignantly.

Fearghal opened his mouth, then closed it again. Eventually he said, "I don't know. It just never occurred to me. Besides, you said that Wardens leave their old lives behind; no titles or even family names." Fearghal looked away briefly. Liar! You couldn't tell anyone who you were because you couldn't bear having to explain... He looked up and saw Alistair looked sceptical. "What's yours? Or what was it?" Fearghal asked, trying to change the subject.

"I don't think I ever had one," admitted Alistair, looking embarrassed. "I've always been just 'Alistair'. I stood out like a sore thumb in the chantry; templars usually go by their family name. The only exceptions are foundlings and few of them are chosen to train as templars."

"So why did you keep your birthright a secret?" asked Fearghal.

"I'm not used to talking to anyone about it who didn't already know. I was always told to keep it a secret. Duncan was the only Grey Warden who knew. I'm not sure who told him," Alistair explained. "I did think about telling you after the battle...I don't know. It seemed too late. How do you just tell someone that?"

Fearghal looked doubtful. "It's come up, Alistair."

"Yes, well... I suppose part of me kind of liked you not knowing," mumbled Alistair, blushing, not meeting Fearghal's eye.

Alistair looked back at Fearghal and caught his puzzled look. "It's just anyone who's ever found out has treated me differently afterwards. I become the 'bastard prince' instead of just being Alistair. I know that must sound stupid to you, but I hate that it's shaped my entire life. I never wanted it, and I certainly don't want to be king. The very idea terrifies me."

Fearghal nodded slowly. "I suppose I can understand that. Anyway, from what you've told me, neither of us can inherit and, if we do, well... there won't be any more after us so it would be pretty pointless anyway." He rubbed his hand over his face wearily. "I'm going to turn in. I think we should spend tomorrow morning getting ready for the long trip back to Denerim, then set off early in the afternoon. Who knows, maybe Teagan can lend us a tent. Goodnight, Alistair."

Alistair murmured, "Good night," and watched him go.

Comments

[darkrose]

Slowly but surely, they're making progress...I just hope there's a tent shortage in Redcliffe.

[nithu]

.I just hope there's a tent shortage in Redcliffe.
You know, it's funny you should mention that... ;)

[scarylady]

Tsk, you're obsessed with tents, wumman.

[nithu]

Trust me, she's not the only one *grins*

[scarylady]

Well no, but I was trying to draw attention away from my own obsession :S

[scarylady]

I like that Fearghal thinks it's pointless inheriting if you can't have children. Seems less likely that he'll make Alistair be King.

I love that the Couslands see the Theirins as Johnny-Come Lately!

Speaking of which that sentence seems all over the place:
"Theirin's... johnnies-come-lately... "

Plural of Theirin would be Theirins - no apostrophe, and plural of Johnny-Come-Lately? Is there one? If so, should it be Johnny-Come-Latelys?

I think myself I would have suggested "Theirin... the line's Johnny-Come-Lately..." I think it's all open to debate though.

One definite little error:

"I'm not used to people taking much notice of anything say."

[ladydamodred]

If we treat "Johnny-come-lately" like the term "mother-in-law," then the plural would be "Johnnies-come-lately." As in, they are multiple people arriving late, not one person arriving late several times.

[nithu]

I looked up johnny-come-lately as I wasn't sure of the plural and, apparently, it can be either - johnnies (ooher, missus!) or lateleys :) It was one of those tricky things that you'd say and it would make sense, but trying to write it down makes it look odd :(

Thanks for the errors, there's always a couple that slip through *sigh*

[scarylady]

Yeah, I think that's why I would have shied away and restructured the sentence so I could stick with singular (ie. copped out). Your call ofc, I brought it up just because it made my brow furrow. I had no real idea what the correct version would be.