Denerim Confidential

Chapter 24

Uldred and his abomination companions handled Alistair significantly less gently than Marcus had. They bound him hand and foot, then left him propped against a wall in another abandoned mage's office. Alistair worked to loosen the bonds, but escaping kidnappers hadn't been a class at the Templar Academy. The knots held firm.

He wasn't sure how long they left him there. It was hard to gauge from the sun outside; it was a cloudy day, and they hadn't propped him up with a view of the room's sole window. He was debating whether to try to move himself when the door opened again.

Uldred entered, his eyes glowing yellow. "I have good news, Mr. Guerrin. Your friend is here."

Alistair clenched his jaw. Maker. This was his fault. He'd gotten her involved in this mess. "She's not really a friend. She's just a private detective I hired. All she wants is the payout from closing my case," he lied. "Just ... just leave her alone."

"I would, but I'm afraid she seems ready for a fight." Uldred gestured to someone behind him. "Help Mr. Guerrin take a look out the window."

Marcus Amell entered the room, his face tight and embarrassed as he looked at Alistair. A bruise on his jaw bore witness to the Smite Alistair had thrown at him, and despite himself, Alistair felt a little pleased about it.

"Sorry about your face. Sort of," he whispered as Marcus hauled him to his feet.

The mage just shoved him forward, catching him by the back of the shirt right before he cracked his head against the glass. Alistair's breath caught as he looked out the window. Not just Naia—Varric, and Juliet, and ... was that the assassin? And who was the blonde human? He looked familiar, but Alistair couldn't quite place him.

Uldred sighed. "She brought company, as you can see. Who are they?"

"I dunno," Alistair lied—well, mostly. "The dwarf's a friend of hers, I think? She must have called for backup. They're not Guard or Templars. She followed your rules."

Uldred sighed. "It is my fault, I suppose, for not telling her to come alone."

"Is that Anders?" Marcus asked behind him, his voice bright with incredulity. "I didn't think he was the type to play at being the hero."

"Nor did I. Perhaps we underestimated him." Uldred sighed. "Well. With this new complication, we will need to strengthen our ranks."

Alistair wasn't quite sure what that meant. But Marcus apparently did. His captor's breath grew fast and shallow. "Uldred. I've told you. I don't want ..."

"This is not a negotiation, Marcus." Uldred's voice was suddenly much louder and deeper—more demon than human. "You will join our cause."

Alistair felt the hair rise on his arms as Marcus reached for his magic. But Uldred was ready. He stepped aside, admitting an abomination to the room—a surprisingly lovely male desire demon inhabiting its host's elven body with only a few alterations, namely the purple eyes and the horns.

Marcus's spell fell away as the demon looked him in the eye. "Come with me, dear," it whispered, reaching for his hand. "This won't be nearly as awful as you think. Whatever you want, it shall be yours."

"I ... all right," the mage said, entranced. He extended his arm and slid his fingers into the demon's, moving slowly, as if in a dream.

In spite of everything, Alistair felt an odd sympathy for Marcus as he was led away. His sympathy vanished, however, when he returned his gaze to Uldred and saw the yellow glow in his eyes. Marcus Amell had looked into that face and threw his lot in with the Senior Enchanter. Everything happening in the Circle now—the bodies Alistair had passed in the hallway, the demons roaming the Circle, the fact that Naia and Juliet and Varric were now in danger—he had a hand in all of it, and didn't even have a demon to blame.