There and Back Again Ch. 180

Chapter One Hundred Eighty: Yo Ho Ho

"So what will you do now?" We were sitting around a table in a quiet, private dining room that we'd rented for the evening at a nearby inn, since ours didn't have anywhere private the seven of us could sit.

Aedan, Zevran, and Larus had bathed and taken naps -- I imagined Larus got less sleep than the others, what with Arathea 'helping' -- but they all looked much better than they had that morning. The food was excellent, and someone had found a bottle of the sweet Antivan wine I enjoyed to boot. Larus had even done a little bit more healing on Alistair's scars, and he had walked to dinner without trouble. I was so happy to have my family all back together -- and healthy -- that I could have cried. Even Fergus appeared to be going out of his way to be polite, even to me.

Larus cleared his throat, his gaze flickering to Aedan and then away quickly. "Well, the Commander, here, suggested we might be welcome at Soldier's Peak, actually." He swallowed nervously. "He said you could always use another healer. I am not sure how I feel about becoming a Grey Warden, though."

I considered. "We certainly could use you; currently we only have one healer. It's a big decision though, so I can understand that. Perhaps you could just...observe, for a while? It's got to be safer than wandering around by yourselves, at least. As you've seen, the Chantry has no qualms about locking away Magisters."

He rolled his eyes. "Altus."

"Right, what's that again?" I honestly had no idea what the difference was. The political workings of the Tevinter Imperium weren't included in all the books Nate had me reading.

He sighed. "Never mind. But yes, I hear your point. So if you agree -- and if Arathea is willing," he looked at her and she beamed at him; I got the impression she'd smile if he told her they were going to live in a tent in a swamp, "then we would do just that. Go with you to your Keep and...observe."

I nodded. Larus' personality had pulled a complete switch since we'd found Arathea. He was still imperious at times and ridiculously formal, but he was largely polite and even almost friendly, with a dry wit that I found amusing. I could see that he might loosen up even further with familiarity, and his devotion to the pretty elf at his side was adorable. Not to mention we really could use a second healer, even if he never became a Warden.

"I have no objections, if Aedan and Alistair don't." Both men smiled. "Welcome, then. Though...one small problem. We have an...errand to run before we get back to Soldier's Peak."

Aedan turned to Fergus, his smile fading. "Your Grace, I was hoping you would agree that they could wait for us in Highever, if we could find them passage on a ship."

Fergus, looking uncomfortable but unable to resist his brother's piercing gaze, sighed and turned to the healer. "Why not? I'll write a letter to have my seneschal find you a room in the Keep."

I sat back with a smile, happy that everything seemed to be working out. "So the next question is, what are our plans?"

*****

Fergus had apparently been busy during our time in Wycome; while I'd fussed over Alistair and searched for Arathea, he'd somehow managed to find a ship -- a pirate ship -- and charter it to take us to Llomerryn. Apparently the only way to get to Lhanbyrde was by going through the pirate haven.

It wasn't going to be without risks; Llomerryn was supposed to be an entirely lawless place, and trusting a pirate to get us there and back safely was tricky, but Fergus assured us he'd done his homework and found the most 'reliable' pirate around. I had to admit it didn't make me feel much better.

So we put Larus and Arathea on a ship to Highever, spent a couple of days buying necessary supplies -- and bribes -- and Alistair worked out, trying to regain the strength and skills he lost while unwell. We all purchased well-made but non-descript armour -- except me, as I already had a set -- and packed our things into trunks. We paid the innkeeper to feed Dara, who would be imprisoned in the cellar of the inn until we returned. And then we found ourselves on the docks at an ungodly early hour, loading our things onto a small, sleek ship by ourselves. It turns out pirates don't offer much of a full-service experience.

One of the hardest things we'd had to do was convince our seven remaining guards -- and Fergus' five -- not to treat us any different than anyone else on the ship. We were trying to pass as a mercenary group, and the moment someone started acting deferential, the ruse would fall flat. So I happily carried my own bags and helped load a trunk into the hold, helmet on and silent.

The worst thing about traveling on a pirate ship was the accommodations. It wasn't a passenger craft; only the captain had a cabin. Instead we had paid to take up most of the space in one of the holds, and the sleeping arrangements were hammocks -- only half as many as we needed for the seventeen of us -- or bedrolls on the bare wooden planks. My three female guards and I had a small corner partitioned off by blankets tied to the ceiling, and we took shifts sharing two hammocks between us. I hated it; hated knowing my husband was mere feet away, and yet we slept apart. I did like the hammock, though, once I got used to it.

The best thing about traveling on a pirate ship was the speed. I'd enjoyed sitting near the bow of the ship on our way to Wycome and watching the shore pass, feeling the wind in my hair -- but that was nothing compared to the speed of the boat we found ourselves on. The captain, a Raider name Lachlan Poole, boasted frequently about how his ship was the fastest in the Armada. I had no way of knowing if it was true, but it was certainly an improvement compared to the larger, slower cargo ships that were my only other experience with boats. Standing near the bow felt like flying, and if I didn't tie my hair back it ended up whipping my face hard enough to sting.

Not that we got to spend much time standing near the bow; pirates, it turned out, were not terribly accommodating hosts, and we were basically banished to the hold where we slept, forced to eat the food we'd brought with us on board, and stay out of the way. Fortunately the trip was only expected to take two days, and then we'd disembark at Llomerryn.

I'd asked Fergus why we couldn't go directly to Lhanbyrde from Wycome; none of us wanted to be in Llomerryn, afterall, given its reputation. He muttered something about protocols and privacy, and I got the impression that Lhanbyrde zealously protected itself by limiting which ships could dock there. We wanted to look like mercenaries working for pirates, and the best way to keep up the ruse was to go to Llomerryn as though we belonged there, before finding the private boat to Lhanbyrde.

Being stuck in the hold of a ship and surrounded by people for two solid days was not ideal. To add to my discomfort was the fact that suddenly, the closer we got to Lhanbyrde, the more anxious I became. I started thinking about the possibilities; what if I was Elissa Cousland? What if I wasn't? What would Fergus do, either way? I knew he didn't believe it was possible, so I wondered if he'd accept me even if it was proven I was. And if I wasn't...well, he'd never believe I hadn't lied and manipulated my way into marrying Alistair and gaining Aedan's affections.

It didn't bear thinking about. And yet, I couldn't seem to stop, either.

Alistair, Aedan, and Zevran took turns trying to distract me: we played card games, gambling with the guards for coppers; Zevran told tales of his days with the Crows; Aedan and Alistair told jokes and teased me endlessly. Even Avanna tried to help, telling stories of her time in the army. But as much as I appreciated their efforts, I just got worse, feeling more and more panicked.

Fergus' sneering disdain wasn't helping. He barely spoke for the entire two days, but his gaze stayed on me most of the trip, almost looking delighted at my obvious anxiety.

Jerk.

The two days may have felt like they lasted forever, but eventually we approached Llomerryn. Everyone seemed tense for a few hours prior to docking, and it made me wonder how common it was for ships approaching Llomerryn to be attacked or boarded. The captain, Lachlan, hadn't appeared worried when we'd met, but even the sailors seemed somewhat edgy. It surprised me, then, to feel the boat come to a halt with a noticeable bump into one set of docks on the island.

We had been warned to stay put until the captain called for us. Apparently inspections were normal upon arrival -- and they were basically an excuse for demanding bribes. Fergus had purchased a variety of items -- crates of silks, metal ores, and foodstuffs, among other things I hadn't seen -- specifically for this purpose. So we waited with bated breath, my anxiety levels rising, until finally the main hatch opened and a handful of people followed the captain into the hold.

They inspected us briefly, uninterestedly, and when they left another sailor appeared to usher us up and out. We climbed down rickety rope ladders, carrying our bags -- a few trunks being passed out with ropes -- and then we were there.

Llomerryn.

I hadn't really had any idea what to expect, but it wasn't this. The docks were pretty standard -- warehouses, crates, fish smell -- but the further away we got the more surreal it seemed. The town looked like it was plucked from an old western film -- or maybe the Klondike. The roads weren't paved, so the entire place was ankle-deep in mud, though there were wooden walkways in front of the buildings with places to stop and scrape off your shoes before going inside. There were taverns and brothels -- places I'd almost dare to call 'saloons' -- scattered between homes and shops, with no apparent thought given for noise or traffic. Ramshackle wooden houses that were only vertical through prayer and whatever the Thedas version of duct tape was stood next to enormous mansions with multiple floors, real glass windows, and stately columns.

It was madness. Chaos. I should have been rather terrified, but instead I was fascinated.

There was no Alienage; the few elves that found their way to Llomerryn were sailors or mercenaries, just like almost everyone else. I imagined there might be some that were servants in the inns and taverns, but there were fewer pointy ears than I'd seen anywhere else in Thedas. What there was, in abundance, was a startling variety of humanity -- or, rather, people, since not all of them were human. There were dark-skinned Rivaini, like Isabela, alongside pale Fereldans and masked Orlesians; Tevinter folk in elaborate mage robes, trailed by slaves -- some of whom were on leashes and wore almost nothing; stocky dwarves with elaborate facial hair beside willowy elves in the colourful silks worn by the rest of the pirates I'd met; I even saw a smattering of Qunari -- though I guessed they were Tal Vashoth, given most of them appeared to be mercenaries.

I wanted to just stand and stare for a while, but I knew that wasn't a good idea -- standing out as being new to Llomerryn was a sure way to get yourself targetted. Instead I stayed cautiously behind Avanna, squashed in the middle of our large group of 'mercenaries', helmet on and armour carefully anonymous, and tried to take in as much as I could without swivelling my head like a giant owl.

We walked for what felt like ages -- and given how sedentary we'd been recently, between riding, boating, and waiting around in an inn for stuff to happen, I wasn't feeling it. At all. I noticed that all of us were stumbling around a little -- it felt weird walking on solid ground after so much boat travel. I guess I finally have my 'sea legs'? However given what Alistair had been through, and the pain he was probably still feeling, having to stand upright and carry his own bag so as not to appear 'weak', I was sure as hell not going to complain. Thinking about the inn that we were headed for -- that would presumably have beds, and I was almost giddy in anticipation -- kept me moving forward without a single frown.

We finally made it to an inn on the outskirts of the town, and I saw why we'd had to walk so far. It was a beautiful, older building with a wrap-around porch, gables, even a small tower -- and its own dock. I'd had no idea we'd gone far enough to get back to the water, but looking closer gave me an explanation -- an estuary. The inn sat on the bank of a large river, which led directly to the ocean. I could see the far bank of the river, covered in what looked like unexplored jungle, with clear blue water leading out to the ocean to the right, and a picturesque river trailing off to the left. The inn had no close neighbours, no obvious security, and a desirable location. I wonder how much money the owners pay in protection to whoever controls Llomerryn?

We trooped up the steps to the porch, but before we could enter the inn, the door opened and an enormous man stepped out, blocking the way. He was truly huge -- he could almost have given Sten a run for his money, though his skin was tan, not grey, and he had no horns -- and clearly armed, though his hands were currently empty. There was a sword hanging from a belt at his waist, the handle of what must have been the largest hammer in existence sticking up over his shoulder, and multiple knives in a bandolier-type leather sash across his chest. His expression was pleasant, but it was easy to imagine the smile turning into a terrifying scowl. All of us stopped abruptly, the three nearest the front taking an involuntary step back. There might be seventeen of us, and we'd win if we had to fight -- but he'd do a lot of damage before we took him down. He looked us over, his expression never wavering -- but it was clear no one was getting inside until he agreed.

Avanna, the one we'd decided would act as our leader -- really as our beard, to hide the identities of the nobles among us -- cleared her throat and then spoke. "We are expected." She gave the fake name we'd been travelling under, and then paused, uncertain what else to say.

The giant gave us one more look, and then grunted and stepped aside. It was a total power move -- there was now space for us to get to the door, but only one at a time and the bigger men would probably have to squish. The message was clear: no funny business. I managed not to squeak in fear as I ducked past him, scurrying inside and reaching for Alistair's hand almost unconsciously.

The inside of the inn was as lovely as the exterior; the common room where we found ourselves was brightly lit, with rich wooden floors, a long shiny wooden countertop, a large hearth, and multiple large tables with comfortable, leather-wrapped, padded chairs. It was luxury I'd never really seen in Thedas -- too impractical for the palace in Denerim, but too expensive for any of the other inns we'd seen. There were only a handful of people at the tables, all of them dressed in fancy clothes with impeccable hair and grooming, no armour to be seen; there seemed to be a roughly equal number of men and women, and all of them were staring at the group of us.

A woman came out from behind the counter with a wide, friendly smile on her face. "Welcome!" She was older, but not old, with just a few streaks of grey in her black, lustrous hair and only a few tiny wrinkles in her flawless brown skin. "Don't tell me, Dom's out there scaring people again." She giggled, and shouted "Dom!" There was no response, and she waved her hand in the direction of the door. "Don't mind him. He's a giant pussy cat when you get to know him. I'm Hetty, and this is my place. Now, who did you say you were?"

Avanna told her the name we'd been travelling under -- a non-existent Fereldan noble -- and she nodded. Without being told, she gestured to the five of us -- me, Alistair, Aedan, Zevran, and Fergus -- and continued, "Come along with me, then. Your guards will have to stay in the back house; Dom will be along shortly to show them. However, your rooms are ready, and you all look like you could use a bit of time to get cleaned up."

She gestured to me and hooked her arm through mine as she led us up a wide staircase; Avanna and one of Alistair's guards followed as well, but I saw the rest heading out a back door, watched by the giant and the rest of the inn's patrons. Hetty chattered to me the entire way up the stairs, starting with comments on our boat ride -- "Pirates, bah, what do they know about taking care of a lady!" -- and our place of origin -- "I've never been to Ferelden; tell me, are there as many dogs as everyone says?" -- all the way to telling us about the inn itself. "When you're ready, there's a bath house out back, with private rooms as needed. The privy is back there as well. There's another house for all the guards, and a large lawn for informal lunches, if you've the inclination."

I could barely keep up, and had no chance to get a word in edgewise. I tried to let her know we wouldn't be staying long enough to have picnics, but she just chattered on about the light fixtures -- wall sconces, not exactly rocket science -- and silk rugs from Rivain.

"Supper in the common room in two hours, my dears," she declared, finally leaving us in our rooms.

And what rooms they were; Aedan and Zevran ended up in a lavish room with huge glass windows overlooking the river; Fergus got a small suite with a sitting room and a small bedroom.

And Alistair and me? We got the tower.

It was amazing; the bottom level was a beautiful reception room with lush couches, a roaring hearth, and a small bar area. And the top level was an amazing hexagonal room that was nearly all bed, with windows that looked out every direction and a hearth the size of my old bedroom on Earth. The room was accessible by the neatest, narrow spiral staircase -- and there was a fire pole, which she called a slide pole, for speedy escapes. I stared at it in shock even as Hetty pointed it out with a giggle. The rooms were decorated in gaudy red and gold, and it was the coolest place I'd ever seen. Totally over the top, completely cheesy -- and perfect for us.

Alistair met my stunned gaze with an equally amused smile, and we held it until the door swung shut behind Hetty's elegant self. I counted to three, silently, after the lock clicked, and then Alistair and I both cracked up.

"Race you down the slide pole!" I shrieked as I ran up the stairs as fast as I could run, Alistair hot on my heels.

*****

Dinner was a formal affair, we'd been warned; I wore the one fancy dress I'd brought with me, feeling uncomfortably exposed despite having my two stilettos strapped to my forearms. I wonder if I'll ever stop feeling like someone will murder me the moment I turn my back? I was truly irritated with the Crows -- they'd done what no one else had managed: made me feel uncomfortable, like I didn't belong in Thedas.

At least I wasn't the only one uncomfortable; Hetty had been insistent that guards were not allowed in the dining room, so if we'd wanted any of them to stay, they had to act the part of guests. Which meant Avanna was wearing a dress borrowed from Hetty, and one of Alistair's guards, Charles, wore a pair of Aedan's slacks and a nice tunic of Fergus'. They'd had to leave their weapons outside. Both of them looked like they'd never worn real clothing before, completely freaked out with wide eyes and pinched lips. I couldn't help but chuckle.

We sat down at a table for eight, with Hetty joining us. The meal was unnecessarily fancy, with multiple courses including both a hot and a cold soup; Aedan and Fergus didn't seem to be surprised, but the rest of us exchanged amused glances that almost led to full on laughter. An assassin, a bastard, two bodyguards, and an orphan were eating Gazpacho...it sounds like the start of a bad joke. At least we aren't walking into a bar. Despite my etiquette lessons with Varel and my business experience, I'd never had a meal quite this elaborate, and I wasn't the only one; I noticed all of us waiting to see which utensil Fergus and Aedan chose before picking up our own. I could only hope Hetty never caught on.