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(If Rael sees the Dalish woman's silver link, she'll give it to Laurelin and tell her where she found it.)
Rael walked a little ways behind the cart, lost in thought. Etienne caught up to her and a conversation ensued.
It felt like that day was a thousand hours long. Everything that had happened, everything she had seen was starting to weigh on her now that they had these quiet minutes as they walked back to the Inn. Images and sounds swirled through her mind--the dead bodies, snarling wolves, ransacked houses--all of it would torment her mind for some time, she was certain.
Rael swallowed hard and told herself to get a grip. Being maudlin would help no one and there was still the mystery of what in Andraste’s name had happened there. On she walked, lost in her own thoughts.
Maker, could they all move so fast. Etienne had been jogging for what felt like the better part of ten miles, just to catch up with Rael. She had been somewhat cold towards him before they found the bodies and he worried. “Rael,” he called out as he finally drew close. “Wait up, please?”
A voice slipped into the spaces between her thoughts. It called her name and she looked behind her as an involuntary reaction. Etienne was approaching quickly. How had he fallen so far behind anyway? Besides Bartha, she was the shortest one there. Surely he had longer legs than that.
Etienne wanted to speak with her, that much was clear. How could she reconcile what little she knew about him? How could the man who defended her honor against Beldin suddenly talk so amiably with him? It made no sense to her. But she saw no reason to avoid a conversation with him. Perhaps he could explain his sudden change of heart. She slowed down a little to quicken his approach.
“Rael,” he repeated, out of breath and exhausted as he caught up with her. “Maker, why do they make roads so… long?” With a good natured scowl, he added, “you’re very fast, you know.”
Rael smiled to herself, but not to him. “I’m trying to keep up with the cart,” she said matter-of-factly. “And I want no part in being here after dark.” If he wanted to talk to her, he’d have to do it quickly.
He found himself in a precarious place, poised between interest in a lovely new friend and terror over the fact that she was, most assuredly, a deadly assassin lute player. Simple musicians didn’t shoot like that. There was no way! Of all the tales he had read as a child in the tower, none spoke of musicians who carried weapons and were not deadly Orlesian bards. So clearly, she was there to woo and kill them all.
Now, that realization that she had gone from the wooing the night prior to the cold shoulder that morning did worry him. Perhaps she wished to not be overly friendly with her prey. That made him her intended victim, as opposed to Tessa or even Beldin, who he liked well enough but would rather outlive, if given the option. Not that they weren’t nice people. He thought he would do well to set parameters, perhaps let her know that he was to be protected by the very large brutish man who would be taking over his book-bed. “So, Rael,” he replied, still struggling to catch his breath. “Such a long day. Have you plans for the evening?” Such as killing me, he silently added.
Rael chuckled. Based on her previous experiences with the mage, it was no shock that his flirting would be this clumsy. “You know very well what room I’ll be staying in,” she replied wryly. “You established my quarters last night, if you recall.” She felt a slight warmth in her cheeks as she remembered the sensation of her lips against his skin.
He had anticipated an answer along the lines of ‘sharpening my blades because we’ve not seen enough death and destruction’ or ‘oh, you know, plotting your death.’ ‘You established my quarters last night’ wasn’t anticipated. He went brilliantly red, “I, ah, suppose I did.” Maker, what had he been saying? Right, he quickly reminded himself, distractions come in the form of… soft lips and… “Room,” he added quickly. “Yes, yours is right next to mine.”
“Is it?” she asked with laughter in her voice. “How convenient.”
His eyes widened even more. Convenient. Convenient. Because it would be far easier to kill him if she’d not have to go far to get back into her room that evening. “Very much so,” he replied quickly, voice slightly higher in octave than before. Clearly he needed to establish that murdering him in his sleep had become far more difficult. “I’ll have a roommate from now on. Isn’t that quaint?”
He couldn’t seriously be suggesting...could he? Rael fixed Etienne with a hard, searching look. He didn’t appear to be arrogant or presumptuous in the slightest. What could he possibly be playing at? “I think it’s best if we stay separately,” she said quietly, straining to keep the good cheer in her voice. “We wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”
“Very much so,” he replied without hesitation. “Personal safety is of the utmost importance, and-” It took a couple of my-life-is-in-danger thudding heartbeats before what she said actually sunk in. “What?” His gaze darted back over to her, filled with confusion. “Wrong idea about… what?”
Rael nearly stopped dead in her tracks. He’d babbled something about personal safety and it became clear to her that the only one who thought he meant they should share a room was her. But he was so nervous about something. “Wait a second,” she said with narrowed eyes, pointing a finger in his direction. “Why are you so interested in tonight’s sleeping arrangements, anyway?”
“I’m not… interested,” he replied quickly, stopping as well. His brow furrowed as he watched her. Not only did he have no clue what was going on, but any attempt he made at figuring it out or drawing conclusions just left him more confused. “I’m not interested in tonight’s sleeping arrangements, I was merely… stating that… conveniently… Beldin will be staying with me.” As if to reiterate that it wasn’t a threat, merely an affirmation of a huge body guard sleeping just feet away from him, he repeated, “Isn’t that quaint?”
Rael’s expression became stormy and she looked away in disgust. She began walking again and Etienne had to jog slightly to keep up. “That’s right--Beldin,” she said bitterly. “The one you tried to run off on my behalf. Somehow, he’s your new best friend.”
Etienne’s jaw dropped at her reaction. That wasn’t what he expected, not in the least bit. Before he could properly think his words through, he replied, “No, not my friend. I just thought I’d offer him my spare bed since running him off nearly got him killed. And we saved his life. I figured he could repay the favor.” He nearly went green at the admission. Clearly everything was up - she’d know she couldn’t take his life, because a brick house had moved into his room.
“Beldin made the fool decision to investigate the farm alone of his own volition, so you needn’t feel guilty about--” The last part of his statement reached her brain. Etienne wanted Beldin to save his life, by rooming with him. And he was making it very clear to her of all people that he had… what? A sentry of some sort? Why was he telling her this, as if she wanted to know… or… Maker, he thought… she would…? Impossible--it was too ridiculous. “And how exactly is Beldin going to save your life as he sleeps in the bed next to you?”
He was he making a fine mess of it all. Truth be told, he hadn’t found himself with his life at risk too many times before. And whenever that did happen, he knew his foe. Had some sort of expectations. Things were trickier with bards, he was quickly learning, and he thought to bluntly tell her his intentions to actually use the sleeping man’s body to blockade the door would be… hasty and ill-put. “In case there should be danger,” he replied simply instead. “You never know. People and whatnot.”
“People, is it?” she asked skeptically, her eyes narrowed to slits. “You think you’re in some sort of danger in a busy inn?” He was becoming increasingly frustrating and she was done with talking around whatever insane theory he was brewing. She clasped her hand on his shoulder, bringing them both to an abrupt halt. “Out with it, Etienne. What in the name of the Maker are you implying?”
“Erm.” He practically leapt over the weight of her hand. “Look.” He could be brave. He had done so at least twice before at the farm. Drawing up a breath, he replied, “I just don’t want to be found on the receiving end of any sort of contract. And I’ve… coin to pay it off. Or… a rather large man.”
“A contract?” she asked, shocked that he would even suggest such a thing. “On you?” Shock quickly gave way to something else. As seemed to be the case with Etienne, his remarks tended to induce amusement or offense. Luckily for him, she tended to choose the former. “What assassin would take you as a target? For what purpose?” She drew her face nearer to his until their noses almost touched and whispered, “Am I the killer you fear?”
Maker. He was having significant trouble trying to figure out if she was joking with him or, worse yet, confirming his fears. She drew close and he took a quick step back, escaping her breath on his face. “Y-yes?”
Rael took a step towards him, once again closing the distance between them. She swiftly pulled a bolt from her quiver and lovingly ran her finger over its sharp metal tip. “Did you know, Etienne, that I’m the deadliest singing assassin in all of Ferelden?” she asked in a low, lethal voice. “But, you see, all those murders started to bore me, so I decided what I really needed was a challenge.” He stood there petrified, fixed to the spot he stood on. Smiling, she took the bolt and gently pressed the tip into his chest, right over his heart.
He held on to her every word. She clearly was a master class storyteller, as he was as captivated in the possible tale of his own demise as could be. His eyes moved from the tip of the bolt to her eyes, then down again.
“I decided to take on a new quarry… an unknown mage on a plant-gathering mission from the Circle,” Rael continued, slowly twisting the bolt she held against Etienne’s chest. “It would be just the thing to cure my boredom! Instead of quietly killing him in his sleep on the first night, which would have made the most sense for a sneaky assassin such as myself, I decided to follow him around in broad daylight with lots of witnesses! I’m so devious that way…”
As she spoke, he slowly nodded. His brow furrowed and lips parted, he listened so intently, even going as far as to wrinkle his nose and throw in side commentary. “You’re right, that would have been better,” was his feedback about the missed night time opportunity, and “Why would anyone leave witnesses?” came later.
Rael could continue no longer and hugged her sides as she erupted into peals of laughter. “Oh, but now he has thwarted my plans with his large roommate! Curses!” she shouted shaking her fist at the sky.
Her laughing threw him off-guard. She nearly collapsed and he stood there, watching her in confusion. “You are not a very good assassin,” he decided sourly. “You’ve told me your entire plot!”
“Oh well,” she managed, trying to get her laughter under control. “I guess I’ll have to let you live.”
Oh, she was making fun of him, he realized. “You’re a bard,” he reminded her, voice small. “Means you’re… meant to kill, non?”
“Is that how it works in Orlais?” she asked, surprise mixing in with her amusement. “It’s a wonder any musicians are hired at all, what with the constant threat of assassination.”
The look on her face threw him off. She didn't look like someone who’s greatest secret had just been revealed. She had no bloody clue what he was going on about. “First, to clarify,” he said, relief evident in his tone, “you’re not going to kill me? Or anyone? Intentionally, at least?”
She wanted to tease him further, but something about his expression--earnest, maybe a bit terrified--made her rethink that course. “No, Etienne,” she said reassuringly. “My sole source of income is the music I play. I don’t… Maker, I don’t kill people for money!” He looked visibly relaxed at her assurances. “Do you normally keep the company of people you suspect to be paid killers?” she asked, unable to resist a final jab.
“No,” he replied honestly, “I keep the company of people who could, and for no money at all.”
“Then I should fit right in,” she replied smartly.
He pulled a face and tucked his arms over his chest. “No, you won’t. Because they’re… big, mean, powerful mages.” He was trying to be as surly as possible, but it was impossible. He felt silly, but nothing more or worse. “In Orlais,” he finally explained, “bards are the most feared of all people. They plant themselves at the sides of nobility. All are spies, assassins.”
“I see,” she said gravely, but still had a merry sparkle in her eye. “In Ferelden, it is not so. Bards make music, and that is the whole of it.” She gestured ahead of them and said, “We’ve lagged far behind now. Shall we catch up, now that this matter has been put to rest?”
“Now that I know I have a large man sleeping on my book-bed for his own good alone?” He wrinkled his nose, then gestured for her to begin with the elegant sweep of his arm. “My lady, lead the way.”
Rael walked quickly ahead so he would not see the pleased smile that would not leave her lips.
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