The Last Warden

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Look, I'm fine. Really." Bracing his hands against the arms of the chair, Alistair pushed himself to his feet.

The others stared at him doubtfully... well, except for Shale. The golem still appeared to be bitter about having to carry him from the carta tunnels, complaining loudly to all the market district about how frail and weak he was. It really did wonders for a man's self esteem.

Shaking off Leliana's hand, he stood, hiding a wince. "See? I'm good."

They had had plenty of potions and salves, of course, and Harrowmont had summoned Orzammar's best healers. He had been poked and prodded, the poison drawn away, but dwarves didn't practice magic, were immune to it. And despite Harrowmont's messengers, the guards at the door had refused to admit Wynne. He would have to go to her.

He took a few hesitant steps, nodding to himself as they grew easier. Turning to Harrowmont, he smiled. "Thank you for the help. I have to go... see about a few things. But with Jarvia gone... I mean, how does this work exactly? Are you king now?"

The old dwarf chuckled, but it fell to a sigh as he stroked his beard. "It was no small thing that you did, but I am afraid it is not enough."

Alistair quirked a brow.

"But there is something... something that would erase all doubt in the minds of the Assembly."

"Right. Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?"

Harrowmont shook his head. "The endorsement of a Paragon would be beyond question. And I have received word that Bhelen is also looking for her."

"Looking for who?"

"The Paragon Branka, Orzammar's only living paragon. She disappeared into the Deep Roads two years ago. Took her entire house... except for that slobbering drunkard of a husband."

"The Deep Roads."

He nodded.

"Maker's breath, why?"

"She was searching for something. Riches, perhaps the lost thaigs; no one is sure."

Alistair sighed. "And you want us to... go into the Deep Roads after her?"

"You are a Grey Warden, are you not?"

"Yes, but... but we don't really do that until we're... Oh, nevermind."

"If anyone can find her, it is a Grey Warden. It is you."

Of course it was. It was always him. He leaned a hand against the wall. "And if we find this... Branka? If she's even still alive?"

"Convince her to return with you. Convince her to support my claim."

"That's an awful lot of convincing."

Harrowmont smiled. "And yet I have heard great tales of your accomplishments on the surface, the lengths to which you have gone to rally others to your cause. In this, you will earn the might of the dwarves."

"Right." He shot Leliana a suspicious glare.

She pursed her lips with an innocent shrug.

"Okay. The Deeps Roads." Alistair shook himself. "But I do have to see to a few things first." He gestured to his leg.

Harrowmont nodded. "Of course."

Leliana slipped an arm through his as they made their way out to the street. He was grateful for the support but watched her a long moment before speaking, noting the way she smiled even as she avoided his eyes.

"So do you forgive me?"

"I have already forgiven you." She laughed. "It would be hypocritical of me not to, no?"

"I suppose I should be thanking the Maker, then? Thanking those Sisters back in Lothering for the fact that I still have all my limbs?"

"Thanking the Maker is always a good idea." She looked at him sideways, holding his eye. "I am glad you are alright."

"Or I will be. I never thought I'd miss Wynne's healing. It's creepy. And it itches!" He chuckled. "But thank you. For the forgiveness."

"You are welcome."

"I mean I was savagely attacked. It was horrible! You can't possibly hold it against me. Morrigan just, just—"

Leliana arched a brow. "'Savage,' was it?"

His cheeks flamed. "I'm just going to... stop... talking..."

She giggled.

"Hey! You! You're that Grey Warden." Alistair turned to find a familiar dwarf stumbling toward them.

"Yeah. We've met."

He paused to catch his breath, blinking up at them from beneath heavy brows. "Eh? Have we?"

"You peed on my shoes."

"Heh. No, I didn't. Least I don't remember."

"Right. Of course not."

"But you..." The dwarf waggled a finger, teetering as he swallowed a belch. "You're going into the Deep Roads."

Alistair goggled. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Heh. They're all after her, always have been. That nug-lover Harrowmont's sendin' you after Branka."

"Ohhh. You're the slobbering drunkard."

The dwarf puffed out his chest with a grin. "Heard of me, huh?"

"You're her husband."

He scowled at that.

"If you don't mind me asking... I mean, paragons are really... revered, right?"

"You're wondering what a bloody paragon was doin' with a useless sod like me, right?" He snorted beneath his whiskers. "Name's Oghren, by the way. Time was that meant something round here. Fightin' and drinkin' mostly, but the respected kind. And that's why you're taking me with you."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Can still swing a sword better'n most. And been waiting years for someone willing to go after her."

Leliana smiled. "Oh, how romantic. Of course we will help you rescue your wife."

"Rescue?" He chortled. "You got a soft spot for darkspawn? Trapped down there with that horrible, soddin' woman. Surprised she ain't driven 'em all out by now." He shook his head. "Thought she got the last word, she did. But I'll show her. Nobody walks out on Oghren!"

Leliana took a step back.

"Well, we haven't exactly been picky before." Looking down at him, Alistair sighed. "You said something about a sword?"

"I'm Warrior Caste, boy, what didja think?" His eyes darted away. "I just... can't carry one within city limits. Not anymore."

"I really don't want to know do I?"

Oghren grinned. "Nahh..."