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Part 8 - The Dancing Halla
The evening meal was a simple one, and the room they paid for, though small, was cheap. They had parted with extra coin to allow Ferrix inside, and been warned the price would increase sharply if the mabari made a mess.
The Dancing Halla Inn was named after a magnificent tapestry that dominated one wall of the common room. It depicted an elven warrior in antique but beautiful silverite armour sitting astride a rearing halla, one of the white deer-like animals revered by the Dalish. The horns of the animal, which the elves carved as the halla matured, had been detailed exquisitely.
“Woven by the Dalish themselves,” the innkeeper had said proudly when he noticed Asleena admiring it. “Travel a lot, they do. Sometimes they’re close enough to the city we can see the sails of their landships down in the Wildervale. They never come up here, but a few brave souls go down on occasion to try and barter for something. My great grandfather was such a one.”
“Why would the Dalish come so near to a human settlement?” Asleena asked.
“Eh.” He shrugged in an exaggerated fashion. “Some reckon it’s to lure elves out of the alienage. Give ‘em a chance at another life, you know? There was one here only last week. Quite a few elves went down there, I hear.”
“The city just lets them leave?”
“Why wouldn’t it? Most of us reckon the fewer elves around the place the better.” Ignoring Zevran’s presence completely, he returned to the bar.
“I suppose not everything’s different from Ferelden,” Asleena murmured, picking up her ale.
Zevran looked indifferent. “City elves are treated the way they are because they allow it. If they are permitted to leave, why do they choose to stay and live in squalor scrubbing pots and floors for a living?”
“That’s a harsh view,” she said, frowning slightly.
“It is a harsh world, my dear.”
“Maybe, but you’re wrong about the elves being treated badly simply because they ‘allow it’; it’s because no one else has the balls to step in and stop it.”
He scoffed. “Then you would make them reliant on someone else’s strength rather than their own.” He raised a hand when her eyes narrowed. “You know we will only argue on this point, Asleena, so why continue? I can think of infinitely more pleasant topics to discuss than oppressed masses and morality.”
Asleena sat back in her chair, making no effort to hide her displeasure. As much as she liked Zevran, there was a cold streak of ‘survival of the fittest’ and ‘looking out for yourself first’ she simply couldn’t approve of. “We can discuss tomorrow, then,” she said. “We need coin and we still need information on the off-chance the Templars can’t tell us anything.”
A smile played about Zevran’s lips as he tossed his purse atop the table, where it clinked. “We are not as badly off as you may think, my Grey Warden.”
Asleena picked it up, gave him a suspicious look and opened the drawstring pouch. “You’ve been busy, I see,” she said, noting the substantial number of silvers glittering within, not to mention at least two gold coins.
“I’m so glad you approve.”
“I didn’t say that.” She pulled the pouch shut and handed it over. “But it’s not like you can give it back, is it?”
He tsked. “You’re getting as bad as Wynne! Murdering is wrong, stealing is wrong, whoring is wrong, what next?”
“You don’t have anything you consider wrong?”
“I have my rules, certainly. You Fereldens just seem to want to take all the fun out of life.” The elf smiled suddenly. “Take the room we hired, for example. It has one bed. I am positive that even though we are friends, you will not want to share.”
“You rented a room with only one bed?” Asleena exclaimed.
“Of those available it was the most secure, and I thought it best to put safety above space.”
“Yes, I’m sure that security was your top priority.”
“You think so badly of me!” Zevran gave her a look of mock-hurt, putting a hand to his heart. “I swear to you, I will not protest at sleeping on the cold hard floor with Ferrix, if it is your desire.”
Asleena chuckled. “What makes you think I’m going to make Ferrix sleep on the floor?”
“You are a cruel woman, Asleena Cousland. Well played. Ah…” he looked past her towards the front door of the inn. “Another game is about to start, I think.”
Asleena glanced back. A young woman, maybe a year or two older than Asleena herself, had just entered the establishment. Her rich blue dress and the way she held herself, as though she owned the place and the city it resided in, made her look painfully out of place in The Dancing Halla. Honey-blonde hair tumbled down her back in a styled wave, framing a pair of blue eyes that had been made-up in some current court fashion. She was, Asleena admitted reluctantly, stunningly beautiful. Two guards were about to enter behind her but she turned to them, said something, and they withdrew to wait outside.
The woman surveyed the common room, bestowed a charming smile on the gaping innkeeper, then came straight up to where Asleena and Zevran sat.
“My lady,” the woman murmured, inclining her head to Asleena, and she instantly noted the Antivan accent. “I am Taelin Irrenill. I had heard rumours you are a Grey Warden. Is this so?”
“It is, my lady,” Asleena confirmed. “May we offer you a seat?”
The innkeeper was already scurrying across the floor with a chair, which he held for Taelin to gracefully sink into. “Your name must be Asleena, then,” she said with another winning smile. “And your companion, the infamous Zevran Arainai.” The look she gave the elf was a bit more lingering.
“You are well informed, Lady Irrenill.”
“My servants see to it that I am. Teyrn Ramvor looks set to ask for my hand any day now, so I wish to know as much as I can about the comings and goings of people in my future domain.”
“And do you usually come out to personally greet the visitors of Markham City, my lady?” Asleena asked.
“You two are the first. Your arrival caused quite the stir amongst our resident Crows.”
“Still not happy with me, are they?” Zevran asked dryly. “Maybe I should send them some flowers.”
“I wish to hear the story from the source,” Taelin said, ignoring the elf. “Rumours flew for weeks after Zevran betrayed the Crows! Some claimed he fell for his mark, others that he sweet-talked you into sparing his life.” Her gaze flicked between the two of them then. “How did he beg for his life, Lady Cousland? On his knees? Tears in his eyes?”
“Flat on his back, actually, calling me a deadly sex goddess.” The words were out before she’d even given them a thought and she blinked. Clearly being around Zevran for so long was having an impact. She looked to see his reaction to what she’d said, and was surprised to realise he was not even smiling. There was an odd intensity in his gaze as he locked eyes with Taelin.
“I wonder if something similar would have worked for Rinna,” the noblewoman murmured. “Probably not. I have heard many of Zevran’s exploits, and he has never let sex deter him from a kill. From all reports, it just meant he enjoyed them more.”
“My lady,” Zevran said in an uncharacteristically flat tone, “perhaps we can dispense with the dagger-sharpening and get down to what you desire?”
“For the murder of my friend?”
“But it was an assassination, wasn’t it?” Asleena asked carefully. “He was contracted to kill her by someone else.”
Zevran shot her a glance as Taelin chuckled humourlessly. “She doesn’t know? Rinna was—“
“—an accident,” Zevran interrupted, his voice harsh.
“You actually sound like you mean that.” Taelin tapped a velvet-clad finger against her chin. “Let’s discuss it upstairs, shall we? Behind closed doors if you don’t want your current woman to hear how you treat those who love you.”
Zevran’s chair scraped the floor as he pushed it back and stood. His golden-brown eyes were as hard as stone. Taelin rose as well and walked for the stairs, throwing an imperious command to the innkeeper: “I will be making use of an upper room of my choosing. You will be reimbursed when I am done.”
Asleena got up and made a grab for Zevran’s shoulder as he went to follow, but he twisted reflexively out of the way.
“Zev, wait. What’s going on?”
He stopped and looked at her in sudden surprise. “That’s the first time you’ve called me that.”
“Don’t change the subject. Tell me.”
“Zevran,” Taelin called impatiently from the stairs.
The assassin let out a long breath, as though preparing himself, but shook his head. “Later. I promise.” Then he followed the lady upstairs.
When they had gone, the innkeeper announced in reverent, dazed tones, “Lady Irrenill! In my inn! The future teyrna, in The Dancing Halla!”
Asleena sank slowly back into her chair as a buzz of excited conversation filled the common room. She rubbed Ferrix’s head when he voiced a whine of concern. “I know, boy. I’m worried too.”
**
An hour passed, then another. People began to trickle out into the night or up to their rooms. Asleena had spoken to a few, asking about Taelin, and learned she was visiting Markham with her father. Teyrn Ramvor, Markham’s lord, was reportedly smitten with her, but some of the banns were unhappy at the prospect of an Antivan teyrna.
The lady’s acceptance that Asleena was a Grey Warden had also affected the room. The innkeeper, after apologising profusely for his manners, waived the fee Ferrix’s presence had incurred and promised breakfast free of charge. Some of the patrons had pressed her for details on the Blight in Ferelden and she had obliged them as a way to pass the time.
Finally, when it was so late it was getting early, Asleena got up and approached the innkeeper, clicking her tongue for Ferrix to heel.
“The Lady Irrenill,” she said. “Which room did she take?”
“Last one on the right, Warden. The hour is early, though. Perhaps you should not disturb them.”
“I’m sure they’re just…talking.” Asleena stopped. Zevran and a beautiful woman alone in a room together for two hours? Talking? Even with the animosity she’d spotted between them it felt unlikely. “Never mind. Good night.”
She was halfway up the wooden stairs when she heard a woman scream.
Instantly the front door of the inn banged open and the pair of guards Taelin had brought were inside. Their appearance was so sudden that it might have been considered suspicious, but Asleena was already charging up the remaining steps and down the corridor, shouldering the last door open when she found it locked and skidding to a halt at the horrific tableau before her.
Moonlight streamed through the large window on her left, a breeze stirred the gauzy curtains. Taelin, naked, her long hair dishevelled, was on the floor in front of the window in a growing pool of blood as she gasped for air, hands clenched around something protruding from her breast. Zevran was practically against the wall beyond her, blades drawn and half-crouched to engage whoever entered the room. He was also unclothed, had blood splashed across his body from shoulder to thigh, and his expression was murderous.
“What—“ Asleena began, stepping forward to help Taelin, but Zevran snapped, “Back!” with such conviction that she jumped away again. Only a second later a pane of glass shattered inwards. Shards sparkled in the moonlight like stars. There was a solid thunk, and a crossbow bolt buried itself in the opposite wall.
Then the pounding of armoured feet and the jingle of mail sounded from the corridor.
Zevran hissed a curse under his breath. “Innocent or not, if they take me I am a dead man. The Crows will see to that.”
“Run, Zev,” Asleena said quietly, not looking at him. She crouched beside the dying Taelin. “Get out of here while they’re reloading. I’ll do what I can.”
“As will I,” the assassin replied grimly. She heard him snatch clothes from the floor, pause a second, then crash through what remained of the window.
Asleena tried to move Taelin into a better position. The woman’s blue eyes were hazed with pain and her breathing was shallow. She tried to speak but no words came out…only blood. The wound was mortal. Removing the quarrel would only kill her faster.
Ferrix snarled a warning behind her.
“Call off your dog and unhand Lady Irrenill!”
“Ferrix,” Asleena ordered softly, and laid Taelin down.
“Get up and back away.”
Asleena obeyed.
One of the guards bent to examine the lady’s wound while the other observed Asleena coldly. After only a short while, the first said, “She’s dead.”
The other’s expression did not alter. “By authority of the city I place you under arrest as a potential witness to murder. You will be taken to the palace jails where I’m sure the lady’s father, not to mention the teyrn, will wish to speak with you. Will you come quietly, Warden?”
“I will.” Asleena nodded once. She looked down at Taelin’s corpse and the now-sightless blue eyes. “There will be much to speak of.”
Modifié par Shadow of Light Dragon, 23 janvier 2010 - 09:07 .
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