The Last Warden

Chapter Fifteen

"You know, Antiva has a long tradition of royal bastards. But not all of them attempt to claim the throne."

"You don't say." Shaking his head, Alistair turned away, keeping his eyes on the path ahead. Right. King. There was only that small matter of – you know – saving the world first. Maybe he'd be lucky; maybe the archdemon would just swallow him and be done with it. He sighed.

Zevran, though, was still speaking. "...charged quite a fortune, they say, based on his uncanny resemblance to the king."

"Wait. What?"

The elf grinned. "There are a great many citizens who would relish the opportunity to bend the king over the—"

"—Whoa. Okay. Nevermind. Forget I asked."

Morrigan passed them up, slowing long enough to glare. "It is an unnecessary complication."

"Yeah, tell me about it. I really don't—"

"—Not for you." She stalked away.

"What? What's that even supposed to mean?"

Zevran leaned close. "I am just saying that you are not without opportunities, my friend. Tell me, did you and Cailan look much alike?"

Alistair groaned. "Just... stop. I didn't want to talk about it before; I don't want to talk about it now."

"As you wish." But he was smiling still, nodding over Alistair's shoulder.

Leliana had slowed, falling into step at his other side. With a chuckle, Zevran lengthened his stride, leaving them alone.

"Look, I wanted to say I—"

"—It is alright."

"No, I— What?"

She smiled, raising her eyes to his. "We all have secrets from our pasts, no?"

"Yeah, but... You're really not mad?" Still his shoulders hunched, bracing for impact.

"I wish that you would have told me... but I understand why you felt that you had to keep it hidden. The secret prince, unknown and unsung, fighting to save his country." She laughed. "I could compose quite a song about you."

He sighed. "Please don't. It's not a story. It's real, hideously and painfully real."

"But it is exciting, no? Romantic."

"Doesn't feel that way." He glanced sideways at her. "I've heard something about Orlesian bards, you know. About how they were sometimes spies... or assassins. About how they used to... lull their victims into complacency."

"Oh?" She quirked a brow. "That would not be such a bad fate, I think. A quiet death in the arms of a beautiful seductress."

"Right. So... have you ever... erm, lulled anybody?"

She pursed her lips, feigning innocence. "I am not sure I understand what you mean."

"You know... Have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?"

She giggled. "Let us just say that there are many reasons that I chose to become a cloistered sister."

"Really? Such as...?"

"Excuse me! You there!"

Alistair turned. A man stood just off the path beside a wagon, waving in their direction. It was too large to be pushed by hand, but there was no sign of any animal, the harness hanging empty.

"Let me guess. You need our help."

The merchant followed his gaze, chuckling beneath his breath. "My mule did run off, but found her about a day's walk from here, I did. Got herself eaten by darkspawn, poor thing. There was barely anything left."

"Lovely."

"Actually, I was hoping I might help you."

"Help... me?" Alistair's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"You look like adventuring types. Got something that might be useful to you, I think." Digging in the wagon bed, he produced a short, metal rod.

"A stick? Well, I suppose I could beat the darkspawn about the head with it..."

"Not just a stick. What do you know about golems?"

"Golems?" Alistair couldn't help but smile. "I had a miniature golem doll once... I mean when I was younger... much, much younger."

The merchant grinned. "Well, how would you like to have a real one?"

"You mean a golem? Of my very own? Now that would be useful, wouldn't it?"

"Perhaps you should stop acting like a child and hear the conditions of this arrangement?" Morrigan moved to his side, folding her arms as she glared down at the merchant.

"You really have to ruin everything, don't you?" But after a moment he turned back to the man, running a hand sheepishly through his hair. "So... what's the catch?"

"Ah. Well, the golem doesn't come with the rod, you see. But it's nearby. In a village called Honnleath, just south of here."

Morrigan arched a brow. "And this village...? There must be a reason you have not retrieved such a treasure for yourself."

"I can handle this, thanks." Alistair held up a forestalling hand. "So, this village?"

Morrigan snorted.

"Nothing to trouble you lot, I'm sure. Saw a few darkspawn in the area. Too much for me, but I'm sure you'll have no trouble." He shrugged, dropping the rod into Alistair's hand. "You'll need the command phrase to activate it. 'Dulef gar.'"

"And you'll just give this to me?"

"I've no use for the rod without the golem. Think on it, though... a golem of your very own."

Turning the rod round in his palm, Alistair grinned. "Thanks. Really, thanks."

As they turned back to the road, he slipped the rod into his pocket, smiling still. Morrigan fell into step beside him. "You are a fool. Delaying for a broken piece of Dwarven tinkering."

"I don't see what you're complaining about. From what he said, it's on the way."

Leliana had been walking ahead of them. She turned round with the quizzical expression. "To Orzammar? Should we not be turning north?"

"Orzammar. Right." Alistair found himself looking to the trees beside the trail. "We're... we're not going to Orzammar. Not yet anyway. Just a brief stop first."

The others had stopped now. Sten sighed. "Where?"

"We're... well, we're just going to... killMorrigansmother."

"Speak clearly."

"Kill Morrigan's mother? You know, creepy witch that lives in the Wilds?"

Leliana gaped, eyes roaming between the pair of them. "Why?"

"That is between Alistair and myself." Morrigan folded her arms.

"Great. Really not helping."

"So you're listening to Morrigan now?"

"Why should he not? Were you to lead us we would be welcoming the darkspawn with flowers and kittens."

"Hey!" Alistair moved between them, holding up his hands. "We're here and... I mean, Flemeth... well, she's obviously evil, right?"

Leliana's eyes narrowed. "Flemeth? But you said she saved you from that tower. Do you not owe her your life? Why would you want to—?"

Morrigan snorted. "You do not know what it is you defend."

"You know, she does have a point. I can't just—"

"Believe me when I say that Flemeth did not save you out of kindness. If it did not serve her purposes, you would be dead now."

"Right. And what purposes might those be?"

Her scowl deepened, shoulder bumping against Leliana as she stalked away up the road. "Does it matter? If we were to stand here debating the undercurrents of your apparent destiny, the Blight already be over."

Alistair watched her go, mumbling beneath his breath. "Like that would be such a bad thing." He looked to Leliana, shaking his head. "We'll go as far as this Honnleath place. I'll think about what you said."

She nodded, offering him a small smile before jogging up the path to walk beside Morrigan. Alistair stifled a groan.

"Why would you want to kill your mother? Do you not love her?"

"Love has little to do with it. I daresay Flemeth would agree."

"But she's your mother!"

Alistair let himself fall behind, burying his face in his hand.