Chapter 8 - "Pirates"

The world around them could change inexorably, changing the seasons and the balance of power. So could the rules by which those forces were judged. But there was no chance of seeing even the slightest echo of these changes in the dull boat that moved stubbornly along the shores of the great lake. As soon as the group of unconventional travellers left the chain of lakes that stretched from west to east, representing the outflow of the Dragon River from Calenhad, they began to move, with slight deviations, strictly northwards. And in pursuit of a summer that ran away in the same direction, the travellers froze in mid-August, despite the autumn that was catching up with them.

But a lot happened both before and after this milestone, even by the standards of disparate satellites.

Along with the established monotony of the excruciatingly slow journey, the dynamics of the relationships between the ship's passengers began to settle. Surprisingly, Leliana took centre stage. But even amid her severe paranoia, Morrigan saw no sign of intent or purposeful effort on the girl's part. Still, the sorceress took her time to think. In the end, there was a logical explanation for every oddity. In a party of three men and an elf, two could hunt without wasting time. But only the archer had the time to eat a full meal in a few hours instead of half a day. And on a good day, she managed to shoot an unlucky bird from a boat, effortlessly demonstrating a skill that had not rusted in the years in the monastery. Later, Leliana modestly admitted that occasionally, but at least once a week, she continued to practice with her bow away from prying eyes. Morrigan was quick to recognise the superiority of others, preferring a bored second place to a hungry pride. Even more reason for the boat to have ten to twelve hours a day to persevere to the horizon. But apart from that — only Leliana knew how to fish. Perhaps the girl was not as good at it as she was at shooting. But none of the other travellers had ever held a fishing rod. Alim, an island dweller who had spent most of his life in prison, had seen the shore from a window more often than he had stood on it with his own feet. Bethany, who lives on a farm by the river, saw the water only as a bottomless source of drinking water and an alternative to the roads that wind through the hills. Fish were plentiful in the cool lake. And even on a bad day, a fishing rod in the hands of the red-haired master kept everyone reasonably well fed. On some days, everyone had a taste of this meditative pastime, which required a combination of patience, attention and reaction. The youngest of the wizards was even making satisfactory progress. The only male, however, had unexpectedly neglected the new art, finding it impractical. Though Morrigan decided for herself that the mage was afraid of the lessons with the fishing rod, which initially required too close contact with the teacher, and that was all.

This would be a good place to stop listing the strengths of the red-haired 'sister'. But the strengths did not end there. Among other things, Leliana was an inexhaustible source of unrepeatable stories about the life of nearby and distant places, fairy tale events, the fashions of Ferelden and Orleigh, and descriptions of some entertaining episodes from the behind-the-scenes life of noble lords. Three-quarters of it was not breathtaking. But, first of all, it was better than nothing. Second, it was impossible not to notice Leliana's talent as a storyteller. Her ingenuity and rich intonation made even trivial material or the recitation of facts into something hypnotic and deep. And the girl always answered questions with ease, showing openness and willingness to discuss controversial issues. About her voice... Sometimes, not often, Leliana regaled the travellers with songs. She had a range of verses for audiences of all sizes, from light-hearted cabaret choruses that could make even the most seasoned dungeon-goer blush, to ballads steeped in meaning and emotion, unfolding a canvas of complicated fates before the listener. More often, though, the motifs exuded a stale sadness, or told of a sombre tragedy. Each of these episodes stayed in the memory. The girl's voice, more than any other, evoked the waters of Kalenhad, as clear, deep and boundless as they were. Morrigan remained an attentive listener, maintaining a look of disinterest and detachment. Alim, on the other hand, absorbed every verse with rapt attention. Bethany, when not drowning in her own dark thoughts, was the most active critic and interlocutor, unencumbered by ulterior motives.

Away from the mundane moments and boat sittings, other, more distant relationships developed. The elf found himself tacitly drawn to Leliana's company, even in the absence of the subject or both mages. Sometimes this seemed natural, more often not. To other eyes, nothing of note was happening on the surface. But to Morrigan, what lay beneath the calm surface seemed obvious. It seemed impossible for the skilled green-eyed hunter not to notice the mage's inner conflicts. Yet she maintained a look of neutrality, as if lurking in ambush, watching the situation closely. The only time the girl showed genuine concern and empathy was on the second day of the journey. The elf, silent and absorbed in his work, rubbed bloody calluses on his hands, as one would expect from his lack of experience. Leliana skilfully applied the herbs Morrigan had found on the shore and carefully, almost tenderly, bandaged the mage's hands. Later, only the rare thoughtful glances that lingered on the man's back showed any reaction. In the eyes of the shrewd sorceress, Alim himself looked like an intelligent beast frozen in front of a piece of juicy meat in a snare. It was as if his lower instincts were fighting not for life, but for death. As successful as he was at keeping them at bay, the pressure built inexorably.

Morrigan and Bethany had developed their own subordination and routine day by day. Leadership predictably fell to the eldest. Despite her desire to play a contemplative role, circumstances forced her to constantly take the initiative. Every problem that arose during the training of the first witch was a challenge that required a solution. Following in Flemeth's footsteps, Morrigan, like her mother, treated them as puzzles. And the hardest nut to crack was the Curse of Apathy. The curse of apathy slowly spread through Bethany's naturally vibrant mind. At times, the girl would slip like tar into involuntary memories of her mother or thoughts of her brother. At those moments, she needed a friend's shoulder, a patient listener, and a reliable support that would not let her crumble under the weight of meaningless regret and guilt. Each of these roles disgusted Morrigan, but at the same time helped her forget her own troubles. So the sorceress shuffled her masks like trump cards, playing fair, if dryly, to get her apprentice back to work again and again. Occasionally, such behaviour caught the eye of a tired elf, full of confusion and surprise, or Leliana, full of thoughtfulness. The art training itself went on... Satisfactorily. Bethany was not one to pluck stars from the sky with her bare hands. But as long as she stayed in the ranks, the girl gained what she needed through perseverance. Each small victory, won through exhaustion, was rewarded with a respectful nod from the one man. He took his own obstacles in the circle as well. Morrigan gave only one reward for each success — she invented a more difficult task.

The older of the two wizards was the first to break through. She had learned the theory of the Blazing Hands spell by the second day. In practice, however, it would take ten minutes of concentrated practice to burn the girl's hands to the bone. During the passionate study of the new chain of runes, Alim did not fail to express his sincere surprise at the uselessness of the idea. But the sharp, wordless gaze of the yellow eyes told him to shut up, and after slipping past Leliana, who was busy with her own affairs, he returned to the mage with a silent sneer. Inwardly, Morrigan was content with her new acquisition, judging it solely in terms of its uniqueness.

But there was no way of speeding up, so there was more time than necessary for new efforts.

By the third day, having calculated the optimum intensity of the pole, the best Alim could squeeze out of the boat was around one knot. It took him much longer to convince the ladies around him of the right pace. Since distracted reasoning was not working very well, the magician tried to use mathematics to help him. Waving his magic wand on the sandy beach, he demonstrated the simplest of calculations. Where at first there was no noticeable difference at high speed, the distance travelled during the day decreased more and more as the time required for rest increased. And the increasing load of today's day had a depressing effect on the next day. And even the partial inclusion of the female passengers did not change the picture dramatically. Leliana grasped the essence of the calculations on the fly and immediately began to explain the magic behind the numbers to Bethany. Morrigan, on the other hand, gave the demonstration a long, thoughtful look, a rare reticence for her. Watching her with a bright smile of triumph, the elf was already preparing a snarky comment when a pair of yellow eyes slid slowly towards the man.

— It's like the counting rules my mother made me learn on pebbles. These scribbles say that the journey will take a month if the distance to the stronghold is judged to be even slightly correct. And that is if the weather, sickness and hunger do not interfere with the journey. By then, autumn will have fallen on the land. Without warm clothes and on the water... It's not much fun.

— Wait. Are you... Is this the first time you've ever seen numbers?

— Yes, it is. This way of recording quantities is unfamiliar. Like any other, except for the dashes and crosses. But the scribbles seem quite intuitive. Thank you.

Alim exhaled heavily and wrinkled his nose as he realised that the object of his celebration had been stolen long before the party.

Almost immediately after that, when they were four long days away from Calenhad, the travellers were struck by bad weather. Low, leaden clouds covered the sky from horizon to horizon, brightening only slightly to the east. Then came a torrential downpour, coupled with gusts of wind that made it hard to breathe. The commotion on the lake could easily have been mistaken for a storm at sea, but for a flatboat much less severe conditions would have been unbearable. Hiding the boat a good ten paces from the water's edge, and for safety's sake pinning it down with large boulders, the four took refuge among the rocks of a small peninsula, preferring a long-abandoned bear's cave. The howling outside and the hunger inside for two nights put each of them to a peculiar test, where the main enemy was the combination of darkness, confinement and gloomy thoughts.

* * *

The weather has been favourable throughout the rest of the journey. Of course, most of the days were filled with fog or occasional drizzle. But there were also sunshine and showers. Every other evening, the sky in the east was a clear horizon of stars, while the sun in the west was forever falling into the purple clouds caught in the clawed grip of the Frost Mountains. This swirling mass then snowed upon the white peaks, later to fill the vast Calenhad with hundreds of glacial streams and rivulets.

Leliana was talking with Bethany Carver on a fine, clear day like this, before she went out into the great lake. Leliana was discussing with Bethany Carver her faded plans for a career as a Guardian. And the distant prospect of becoming a Dozen or even a Centurion in the sturdy Erling as an adult. The subject of Ostagar and Mor naturally came up. For some mysterious reason, Alim decided to jump in and offer himself as a source of first-hand impressions of Ostagar. The redhead's uncomplicated nod served as an excellent motivator for the elf. However, to preserve Morrigan's shaken composure, he carefully omitted the sharp edges of the tale about a certain witch and the discovery of the king's correspondence. Leliana gave the wizard a grateful nod and said.

— A remarkable story. In other times it would have been worthy of a ballad, after a few colourful moments had been added and set in verse. But in the current political situation, even the mention of Ostagar will soon become unwise. Military affairs and strategy are hard for me to understand, so I was more interested in Mac Tir's deed than anything else. Perhaps the defining act in the story.

Morrigan, sitting at the bow of the boat, gazing out into the bottomless blue, barely backed by the ghostly feathers of high clouds, snorted and answered without looking.

— There was only one thing a military commander could determine. The place of his own death and the size of his brother's grave. An attack from the flank would have had no effect on the outcome.

— We can't know...

— We have been given the power to think. And to draw conclusions.

— After all, I didn't see the battle with my own eyes. All right, then. Here's the bottom line. I believe there were motives other than survival at play in this action. Otherwise, Teyrn's action, while seemingly wise, seems overly calculating and callous towards his own daughter's son-in-law, the son of his closest friend for whom he risked his life, and ultimately the King. Also, the centurions saw the battle and realised the consequences of Teyrn's decision. But if history is any guide, there was no sign of disobedience or disorder. The ground for such a manoeuvre had been prepared in the minds of the people beforehand.

Alim shook his head in mild surprise, but finally nodded in agreement. Leliana continued.

— But whatever is in Teyrn's heart, impotence and division lie ahead for the land.

The elf grumbled.

— Why so? There`s an army in the hands. The queen. The Blight lies ahead.

— That pales in comparison to a single fact. For the first time since the founding of Ferelden, the direct line of succession has been broken. Eight generations and the noble blood of Calenhad has run dry. A confluence of circumstances and the spawn of darkness had done what neither the Abbarians, nor the Chasinds, nor even the occupation of Orleus could. No matter what anyone said about this damp and dog-eaten land, the oldest of the noble families of Thedas were not averse to the Kalenhad bloodline. It was what had once united pirate captains, warlords and bandits of all stripes into a single people. And it's what has united the Banns, the Tairns and the Earls for hundreds of years, forming the unyielding backbone of the land. I don't know... Perhaps Merrick's bastards have survived... No, it would be more accurate to say that they will surely appear in the next few years, even if they never existed.

The question was carefully phrased by the eldest of the wizards.

— The queen. Kinship with a warlord won't be enough to form a temporary majority alliance?

Leliana sighed and shook her head negatively, her gaze fixed on the horizon to the north.

— I think not. If there was a certainty of an heir... But according to the latest rumours from the capital a month ago, it is not to be expected. The crux of the problem is the combination of Anora Mac Tir's unique position and character. As far as I know, the girl didn't just grow up as Teyrn's favourite. She inherited both Loghain's character and his intelligence. Since her girlhood, when she travelled with her father in the capital, the queen did not prove to be spoiled. On the contrary, she became educated and sophisticated in politics. Character, will, a taste for power — this girl will not give up the throne even to her father. Rumour has it that it was not the charismatic Kylan Teyrin who presided over the Assembly of Lands, nor the one who collected the treasury. Though one should not quite believe it. Despite his youth, the king had managed to earn the loyalty of the nobility, and a large proportion of them were not greedy, short-sighted fools. And Tairn Gwarenna, like the king's father, followed him at first. Anora is the only and last legitimate link to the old order and the royal bloodline....

Bethany leaned forward and, interrupting, clarified with lively curiosity.

— How so? She's a McTeer.

But it was Morrigan who answered.

— It doesn't matter who. What matters is whose brood the female can carry beneath her heart.

The green-eyed girl shook her red hair and grinned fiercely.

— That's a good point. Does she carry it under her heart or not? I think not. But hope, o-o-o... It blinds the wisest of men. I bet that Teyrn, knowing his own strong-willed and freedom-loving daughter, will immediately take control of her upon her arrival in the capital and restrict her in everything. Then he will declare himself Regent. And, knowing that this will start a civil war, he will then announce that his daughter is pregnant with a true blood heir. This will give the Regent at least six months of doubt and indecision from the nobility. The rest will depend on how prepared the warlord is for such a scenario. What alliances he has made beforehand. But we can already say that the attempt to form an opposition of royalists on the Queen's side is doomed.

Alim scratched his chin and voiced his own assumption.

— Lack of leadership? I have heard of Lord Eamon's illness. I think Sir Donnal mentioned it. Lord is the voice of the Southwest and almost first among equals with the title of Earl, isn`t he?

— Yes. The power of the throne has rested on three pillars in recent years. The Garrins, the old owners of Radcliffe, led by Lord Eamon. The Cusland family, wealthy and rooted in Highever, led by Tairn Bryce. And the newly formed Clan Mac Tir, represented only by the Queen and Warlord.

— Was?

Leliana circled the others with a puzzled look, but only Bethany showed any sign of understanding the reasons for the use of the past tense.

— Let's ignore the... OK. About a month ago, maybe less than a month, a large and well-armed gang attacked Highever. At least that's the word of mouth. It seems that Teyrn's eldest son had just left with most of the guards at the king's request. And before the mercenaries could reach the castle, there was an attack. According to the same rumours, there were no survivors. In fact, the lands are now ruled by the late Teyrn's friend from the days of the occupation, Lord Rendon Howe. And it seems that in a short time, three legs have been knocked out from under a sturdy stool. So only lone wolves will rise for the Queen, not a coalition. And if things don't change, there will be no one to rally around but the Regent.

Morrigan shifted her gaze to Leliana, staring into inquisitive green eyes, and asked.

— How do you know this?

— You mean rumour? Or speculation about the Warlord's plans?

— Your knowledge? Hmm. Good hearing. Good memory. I remember. Second thing I'm interested in.

— Oh... Well, the answer is simple. If I were Lord Loghain... Or rather, at the speed of His Grace, I would do the same.

As the elder wizard's face broke into a wry grin, the other passengers on the boat froze in stunned silence.

A few days later, already in the waters of Calenhad, when the shroud of silent rain, which cuts off the rest of the world and hides the shoreline from view, creates an ineffable sense of privacy and peace, there was another languid conversation. It was not the first time they had discussed the positive and negative aspects of travel... The elf methodically and confidently, though without any fire, gave a series of reasons why this experience should never be repeated. Morrigan was the only opponent, throwing back counterarguments that were rather random no matter which way you looked at them. Leliana seemed to concentrate only on the fishing rod. But Bethany, having solved another of the older sorceress's riddles, this time with a few questions added using the 'mage's mathematical scribbles', suddenly asked.

— How did you get into the temple dungeon?

The simple question cheered Alim. He decided to go back to the very beginning, and without realising it, he followed the wind as it played with his red locks. The story went from the gates of Lothering to falling into the clutches of the Templars. But Leliana interrupted the man in the middle of his misadventures in Dane's Haven. With a ringing laugh, she asked again.

— Really? La pute...

The girl began to say the unfortunate Orléigh phrase without the slightest trace of an accent, but stopped halfway through. The girl started to say the unfortunate phrase in Orleans without the slightest trace of an accent, but stopped short.

— Morrigan has a pretty good command of the swear words of the neighbouring country, having poked her nose out of the wilds of Korkari for the first time. Alim mentions that the legendary Flemeth is also to thank for this? Live and learn....

The sorceress, already less than thrilled with Alim's pedantic way of recounting events, snorted angrily and interrupted the conversation.

— No way. And where I got a few phrases from is a personal matter. I have no intention of discussing it.

Leliana sighed, feeling the mage's attentive gaze on her, and nodded.

— I'm worried about something else. Of course, maybe it's just a coincidence. Or maybe it seems bigger than it really is. Or maybe the narrator's memory is faulty. But it looks like it was the sentence spoken in Orleigh that provoked the attacker.

Resting her elbow on her knee, Bethany propped her head up with her fist and asked with a gleam of curiosity in her eyes.

— What does that mean?

The redhead's eyebrows crept up, and for a few minutes there was silence in the boat, filled only by the faint sound of the rain and the soft splash of the mast. The girl shook her head, as if agreeing to throw away part of the facade that was already in ruins.

— Well... If I understood the context correctly, despite Alim's disgusting pronunciation. It was about the mother of the Morrigan's attacker, whom she called a whore.

The younger mage opened her mouth in astonishment, but after a moment she nodded respectfully to her mentor. Leliana continued.

— It's just that the violent reaction seems odd...

The mage shrugged and commented.

— I don't see anything strange.

— Really? I don't know... Sure — Orleigh is not a Rivaine dialect. After the occupation, it spread quite widely even among the villagers, especially in the west. Especially in Lothering, where Meghren's army was stationed at the time. But the above applies to the guards. Men of age. Whereas the Lothering gang to which these two belonged were newcomers and quite young. According to Sir Evu's papers, and rumour, this one was made up of hunters, mostly pelters, prospectors and lone farmers from the distant frontiers. The people are a mystery, of course. But it's hard to imagine a person with even a superficial knowledge of a second language among such a rabble.

Leliana fell silent, pondering the conclusion of her own speech, and the elf spoke impatiently.

— So? Go on.

— М? Yes... If this man was reacting to Morrigan's sentence, one could imagine another explanation for being educated. Strange as it sounds, it's a simpler one. There were outsiders in the gang. Whether by descent or profession. And it's unlikely that they were in that place at that time by chance. We have to assume that the gang wasn't a natural phenomenon, and that their meeting with Moore was just a coincidence. And we wonder who would benefit from such a thing. But... I am more likely to indulge my own habits and make complex assumptions on the shaky basis of an oddity that can only be a coincidence.

The mage grimaced, not in the least pleased with his companion's thoughts. He pushed the boat a little harder than he would have liked, causing the passengers to shake, and said.

— Sounds like a cautious hint of a serious problem I don't even want to suspect exists. By the way, Bethany, how did news of our capture get back to Hawk Farm so quickly?

The girl's eyes widened and she sighed before opening her mouth to answer.

— I wish I could tell you a secret about the Hawks' mysterious abilities... But it's simpler than that. A hunter came to the farm that day and broke the news. A good friend of my parents. He had been in Lothering that morning. He'd got up early to leave the settlement with a group of mates. He had unwittingly witnessed the procession of the Templars leading Morrigan and Alim. Later, just before his departure, he, like many others, learned of the Templars' mission, which had uncovered the location of the bandits' camp. His party was heading for the Bressilian Passage. The road there runs through the hills on the same side of the river as our farm. So Georg decided to make a detour for a few hours and maybe say goodbye. He...

Bethany sighed heavily and looked away. The Morrigan gave her a wary look, but the girl just waved her hand uncertainly, took another deliberate deep breath and swallowed.

— Georg brought back some dead birds. He shared news and gossip from Lothernig. He warned of the dangers of staying in the south, especially near the Tract. And expressed the hope of seeing each other in the future. And that was the story.

After the fat point set by the young sorceress, no one wanted to continue the dialogue. And the boat and its passengers sank into the soothing white noise of the rain.

But not everyone was so close to peace and quiet that they could easily enjoy it. Trying to keep her emotions and thoughts deep within herself, Morrigan had spent the last two nights suffering under the onslaught of a new wave of nightmares. With the darkness of the night, they descended upon the sorceress' mind with crushing force. Leaving a sticky trail of irrational fear and the scent of someone else's presence over her shoulder, they seemed brighter and brighter. The same forest and strange ashes. The kind that seemed fit to grind between his fingers and taste. A mist creeping through the cracks of doubt. And the figure of the stranger behind the veil, like a character preparing to step from behind the curtain and play a special role. No longer a hint, but a clear female silhouette, constantly searching for a path that would lead to the corner that belonged to the sorceress. It made the girl look north towards the stronghold for long periods of time, considering her own options and chasing away poisonous thoughts of the worst future and the futility of plans.

As the day wore on, the weather had broken a little from the thick cloud cover that kept pouring its own tears down on the travellers, and a fresh breeze with occasional rays of sunshine had lifted the mood. In such an atmosphere, Morrigan posed a question that everyone, without exception, avoided. Bethany and Leliana — for lack of understanding of its importance, and because in the weeks of travel neither mage nor sorceress had revealed their own destinations leading to the Kinloch stronghold. And the pair themselves — because the one seemed too complex and involved difficult choices.

— Alim, what do you think of the way to the Circle? I have enough free time, unencumbered by anything but hard work, to slip through my fingers.

The mage grimaced as the subject rose from the depths of his suppressed thoughts. After a pause that neither the other passengers, who had turned to listen, nor the inquiring sorceress wanted to interrupt, the elf spoke.

— What do you want to hear? A plan? A solution? We have had this conversation before. I have put some ideas on the table. But neither you nor I know what the situation will be like in the stronghold, at the docks, in the capital of Erling, which includes the lake of the same name. Or even in the country at all. The best attempt would be to contact the mysterious but existing representatives of the free community of magicians. At the very least, their connections within the circle could be used to pass on a message. And I know that's not a plan that will work for you in the slightest. But as far as I'm concerned, letting my sister know that I'm alive and well and nearby is a success. You could start nagging now — how are we going to find these mysterious people and what are we going to help them with... Well, it's in my head. My guess... Don't laugh at me. Yes, my guess is a connection at or near the docks that serves the Fortress. And... Yes, Abyss, I can see it in your eyes. If he's been able to remain incognito for years, how are we going to find him? I don't know. That's the plan. Surprise me with your own.

The Morrigan snorted, splashing the cold lake water at the man, and turned her back to him, looking down the course of the boat.

— Aren't you ashamed to say such nonsense out loud? I'm a bit surprised, though. I've been speculating about how much it upsets you that you have weeks of travel ahead of you.

Wiping the drops from his face, the mage raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. But before answering with a question, he carefully shifted his gaze to Bethany and Leliana. The former's face showed only cautious interest. But the latter's flickered for a moment and was immediately hidden behind a mask of concentration. The man frowned, trying to put the pieces together on his own. But no decent guesses came to his mind. Finally, the elf gave up and asked a question.

— Why should I be upset?

— I don't know how you parted with your sister. But it seems you went to war for her. Though not as dramatically as it might have been. Time has passed. Of course, no birds have sent a message from Ostagar. Leliana's judgement is to be trusted here. The warlord travels to Denerim to maintain silence. But as I see the order of events, the mages who left with him will return to the circle. Their journey is along the Tract. Horses, wagons. A bit of a head start. They may already be there. And I don't think anyone's mouth is sealed with oaths. Talk around the corner, whispers and rumours. What will it mean for the Sister? When she learns the details of Ostagar's disaster? That's not something this witch is good at imagining. Now you know the facts, it's still half a month's journey to the stronghold. A plan?

Alim froze, he even stopped working the staff, something he had begun to do unconsciously over the past week, without any conscious effort in his hand movements. The mage's face darkened and he clenched his teeth in pain, visible from the outside.

— Similar thoughts... Have not crossed my mind. Which doesn't make me look good, of course... But I don't see any obvious solutions.

— The obvious ones? Yes. I don't think there are any. After asking my companions, I realised that the Dane River starts about a day and a half ahead. The only umbilical cord connecting the lake to the Everwake Sea. A trade route and more. But behind the deceptively short skirts of autumn lurks the grin of winter. Ice and boats don't seem to mix well. So shipping must be on the wane. But some things can make you want to take risks. Blight and news from the capital. So I expect to meet a boat or two. The ones that can sail. I can imagine the wind, and it's seven or eight times faster than our elf. The sail doesn't eat, it doesn't get tired.

Releasing one hand, the elf scratched the bridge of his nose before returning to his routine. Focusing his gaze on the red-haired hunter, who was checking the tension of the bowstring before catching food, the mage directed the next question at her.

— Your reasoning and conclusions?

Giving the man a worried look, Leliana shook her head negatively.

— No. But Morrigan asked questions. Sometimes strange ones. I must admit, I felt that some of them had nothing to do with the subject at all. It was... surprisingly inconsistent and disturbing. But the conclusions and thoughts expressed are hers alone. But only... Anyway... Let her tell them herself.

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Alim turned his gaze back to the back of the sorceress' head, which gave no indication of the contents of his companion's mind. Curling his lips, the man summed up.

— Good. So merchant ships under sail. That's good. Just one thing. I apologise if this sounds rude or even insulting. Unless the ladies are willing to pay the fare with their own bodies, there won't even be enough money to give the sailors a handout.

With a quick wave of her hand, the enchantress brushed aside the elf's words and drew a line in the sand, even if she did not pay attention to the meaning of the words.

— No cargo. We'll take the ship.

There was silence in the boat. Alim tried to comprehend what he had heard and resisted the foolish urge to ask if he had misheard. Bethany seemed surprised to the core. Leliana bit her lower lip thoughtfully, unable to hide her concern.

* * *

As the sorceress had foretold, by midday the next day the shore had begun to slope steeply to the right, revealing the boundless expanse of water. They had grown accustomed to seeing the distant peaks of the Frost Mountains to the left, to the west, instead of the shore. But now it seemed that a small boat had ventured out into the open sea. The need to follow the coastline, heading further and further to the east, when the destination of the journey was strictly to the north, made everyone but Morrigan gloomy. Casual conversation faded. Ordinary business seemed to have been postponed. Anxious gazes stared at the dark blue surface, rippled by lazy waves. As if that wasn't enough, Alim soon began to feel the current. It was still imperceptible, but it was steadily helping the boat to move eastwards. The current of the Dragon River was so wide that, in bad weather, it was impossible to tell the difference between a small lake and a large one. And the water flowed slowly and lazily. From the general memory of maps, the course of the Dane River was more like a beautiful equilateral triangle. The water-filled valley between the surrounding hills narrowed gently over the course of barely a day's crossing. Until, at its narrowest point, it was transformed into a riverbed at least a hundred paces wide. And the current in that river immediately showed a force invisible to the eye, but irresistible. Ships coming up from the Everwake Sea to Calenhad preferred to anchor in the absence of a tailwind rather than fight the indifferent elements with their oars. And when they left the channel, as far as the landings allowed, they immediately moved away from the central current towards the coast. Had it not been for the season, the probability of encountering an oncoming ship would have been maximum where the four travellers were moving. The main trade route ran south to Redcliffe, the foundation of the Harrins' wealth and influence. Through the great southern stronghold of Ferelden came trade with the independent villages in the foothills of the Frost Mountains, the Western Hills and the Inner Lands. At this time, however, ships could only travel as far north as the Erling capital of Calenhad, the stronghold itself, and the wharves at the neck of the wide valley that became the Garlen Pass. And that meant that the hypothetical ship only had a chance of appearing on the other side of the vast expanse of water.

After an hour of travelling in the new direction, Morrigan turned to Alim and, pointing in a north-north-easterly direction, as if drawing a diagonal at an acute angle to the shore, said

— We have a decision to make. On reflection, we have two options. The path, safe at the beginning and dangerous at the end — to follow the bank, meaning we will have to cross the rapids at the end. Or we can turn away from the shore and let the current take us as soon as possible. Let it guide us in the right direction.

As Alim and Liliana pondered the possibilities, Bethany exclaimed anxiously.

— But without oars and sails, we're surrendering to the river! There will be no way to steer the boat.

— Here and there in its power. But if we don't hesitate, we'll be right in the middle of it. That means we'll be in sight of any ships that come our way.

The huntress laughed suddenly, shaking her red hair.

— The helpless victim, it means. Four virgins crying for rescue.

The young sorceress opened her mouth to correct the inaccuracy, but the elf was ahead of her.

— Aside from it being difficult to confuse my sex…

Morrigan interrupted him dismissively and caustically.

— With your hood up, your back straight, and in our environment, to the eyes of sailors from afar, a maiden is better than a real maiden. The eyes of men and women see only what they are ready or willing to see. And everyone is happy to be deceived, as long as there is no punishment.

— Good. Ahem. But is the plan to pretend to be a victim on the river? It's unexpected for you to calculate mutual aid.

— I'm learning to take advantage of people's weaknesses. Talking to Leliana is surprisingly helpful. Not like talking to you.

Perhaps for the first time in their days together, the said girl openly showed a blush of embarrassment on her cheeks and muffled her own defence.

— I told you, it was those strange questions.

— I don't know if I should be afraid. It's more accurate to say that I'm confused for a number of reasons. All right, but what are you going to do if luck favours us? We've been sighted and a ship has come to our aid. Should we board it? Like real pirates? Four of us, even if three of us are skilled? I won't even mention the possible consequences...

— Save that kind of trouble for me. All you'll need is Leliana's bow. And I'm inclined to believe that she will never hesitate to release an arrow. Consequences? I laughed at your morality back in Ostagar. And they continue to amuse me. Well, guard your own conscience, but don't touch mine. If there are no objections, it's time to change course.

Sighing with contrition and avoiding looking at the rest of the crew, the man slowly turned the bow away from the shore and paddled hard, building up as much momentum as the ground would allow before it sank deeper and the mast stopped reaching. As soon as that was done, the mage laid it along the side of the boat, tucked it under the front longitudinal bench, sat down wearily and gave a brief report.

— To everyone. Left to the water spirits and chance.

Bethany turned nervously, her eyes fixed on the slowly receding shore, and asked, trying to distract herself.

— Is that an elven belief? About spirits.

Alim shook his head negatively and smiled.

— I know little more about elven beliefs than the average educated wizard with access to the libraries of the Circles. First of all, they do not distinguish between good and bad shadow creatures. I suppose in some grey antiquity that was the case. That is a rather short-sighted way of looking at things. However, the phrase has nothing to do with the elves. They do not, as far as is known, in any way suggest, now or in the past, that spirits control nature and certain aspects of the universe. More powerful than mortals, yes. Can resemble gods, yes. But no connection to the act of creation. The Abbarians, on the other hand, have a different view. To them, every gust of wind, every element, every surrounding object is a message from the gods, the result of the gods' creation, the very essence of the gods. And the shadow creatures, which they call only ghosts, are just a part of the boundless world, like birds or stones.

— Surprising. Of course I've heard of the Abbarians. But under Lothering they only appear as characters in legends, myths and fairy tales. I was much more concerned about the Chasinds.

The girl's mentor, gazing relaxedly at the horizon, took up the conversation.

— The Chasinds have always believed in themselves, exalting no one above personal power and authority. Who do the mysterious gods feed? Or warm? Can they stop the blade in the heart? And therein lies the power to survive in the south. Even Flemeth, who has lived among them for eternity, has not changed her mind. She has never tried. She's just been accepted as the strongest. And year after year, the fools have tried to challenge that. Tribes need their mother's apprentices to survive. That's why they're respected. Then there are the shamans. But they're a pale shadow of the witches when women with talent teach men. Shadowcraft is a dangerous tool. And like a tame wolf, they can rip throats. That's why the gentle northerners are wary of the south. As long as the tribes decide who's first, there's no threat. But when they are united by a single will, one southern warrior is as good as a dozen weak northerners.

The mage nodded and added.

— First-hand information is invaluable.

Time passed at the same speed as light travelled across the sky. The slower it went, the more effort I made to keep track of it. And the further we got from the shore, the stronger the feeling that the boat was standing still, bobbing gently on the calm waves. In fact, it was moving much faster than Alim's efforts. And there was no sign of a ship ahead. The gloomy elf even began to calculate in his mind how likely it was that he would encounter an oncoming ship before the boat reached the Dane Riverbed. Such calculations were not easy at all and were a great distraction. But no matter how he changed his own estimates, nothing optimistic came out. Bethany fidgeted too, staring at the horizon, and soon Morrigan thought it wise to distract her by reciting the runes she had memorised that made up the spell of the Ice Grip.

And then, turning without warning, the eldest of the mages grinned broadly and announced.

— It's time to play the victims.

As they followed her gaze, each of them saw the ship catching up. It was literally growing in size before their eyes, heading downstream with a tailwind. Alim muttered.

— How...

But he immediately stopped himself and clucked his tongue.

— Southwest wind, of course. There was no point in waiting for a ship from the east. Did you do that on purpose?

— Of course. Listening patiently to Leliana, the willingness in her revealed much to me. And the other plots are instructive. For example, there was a moment at the ball when people's attention was drawn to one thing, but the heroes managed to do something else in plain sight. I was curious whether this was a real trick or an invented passage. And although the narrator did not directly admit it, he indirectly confirmed my suspicion. Now I think my mother often used a similar trick. But I think it's time to act.

Leliana nodded, carefully hiding her bow and some arrows under her bench. Bethany pulled herself up to her full height so she could be seen better. Alim sighed, shook his head and straightened his back. The man tried not to look at the side of the ship, not even the edge. And Morrigan, not for the first time disrupting the mood around her, threw off her cloak and began unbuttoning her shirt without a hint of embarrassment. In response to a silent question, she threw off her clothes, exposing herself at the waist. Stretching to show off her health, smoothness and plasticity, along with her nipples hardening mischievously in the cool air, she deftly kicked off her boots.

— Wait, why...

While Alim's mind tried to formulate a question that at least seemed logical in an unusually absurd situation, the girl's trousers and underwear disappeared. The mage's training made him turn away, blushing profusely. Leliana, who had caused a wave of surprise and a strangely tingling feeling of jealousy in the man, on the other hand, cast an appraising glance at the naked sorceress, showing an unmistakable interest. Bethany took an intermediate position. Obviously trying to look away, and blushing visibly, she failed.

Morrigan winked at the mage and tossed her a quick glance.

— Be ready when the ship arrives.

And in one smooth motion, she rocked the boat hard and entered the water almost splash-free. The elf shivered with cold and said, startled by a premonition.

— She is very careful with his clothes... It just occurred to me — there aren't many good tailors and seamstresses in Korkari.

Leliana nodded, tapping her lips with a pointed gaze, and made a remark that caused a new wave of silent surprise among the other passengers.

— Yes, a body like that deserves silk and satin and brocade and lace.

Meanwhile, there was no trace of the girl who had come to the surface to breathe. She had vanished into the depths without a trace, like a water spirit. And the ship drew nearer, and began to hoist her sails to equalise her speed, so as not to overtake the boat at full speed. The shouts of the crew came, and there was no time for frustration at the lack of answers to the naked sorceress's plan.

When the boat was less than ten paces away, a length of rope was thrown from the high side, which Bethany deftly caught and immediately wrapped a few times around the bench at the bow of the boat. After tying a couple of 'land' knots that could only elicit the restrained coughs of experienced sailors, she waved her hand. And in a few minutes the sound of colliding planks could be heard over the water. For a moment there was confusion about the rope ladder, which was used to climb a wooden wall one and a half to two metres high, that had fallen to the bottom of the boat. After all, there was a team of at least a dozen strong men waiting at the top, full of curiosity and caution, and you could only climb it one at a time. Sighing, the youngest of the wizards grabbed the ladder and decided for the others who would go first.

But as soon as the girl's head appeared over the side, she noticed that there was little interest in the rescued. The heads of the seven sailors, of the captain who came on deck, of the mate who followed him, of everyone present, were turned to the other side. The faces showed disbelief, surprise in varying degrees, doubt. There were even a few wry smiles. There, behind the figures of the men, the naked Morrigan stood proudly at full height, cold lake water dripping down her body. Despite her puffy skin, she did not look hypothermic. On the contrary, paler than usual, with her dark hair now streaked with black and her eyes burning yellow, she looked like the kind of water spirit that might dwell in the dark depths beneath the keel of a ship. At the same time, the woman's breasts rose seductively with each breath after a long time underwater, suggesting the trivial nature of the mysterious beauty. The girl brushed away the curls that clung to her nose and smiled contemptuously.

— A crowd of men. This could be interesting. At what point will the pack realise who the leader is?

The cold, mocking voice was like a slap in the face, rousing the crew from their slumber. Bethany hurried over the side, unseen and even forgotten, and with a wild glance down at her bewildered companions, gestured for them to hurry. Faced with an irresolvable strangeness, the minds of the sailors, seeing no immediate threat, chose the second of two options: to run and fight, or to calm down and dominate. The men's postures relaxed, the number of greasy smiles increased disproportionately. But the presence of the captain kept them from acting recklessly. The captain, subtly sensing the change in mood, intervened in a loud, commanding voice.

— Who are you? And what the hell are you doing naked on my ship?

Instead of answering, Morrigan laughed openly and without complaint. The utter futility of such a reaction under the circumstances was disheartening to everyone for the first few moments. Some of the sailors even became nervous, casting expectant glances at the captain. Even Alim, who had reached the deck, watched the scene with a sagging jaw and exchanged a silent question with Bethany. But it took a few heartbeats for surprise and shock to be replaced by cold anger. And in the next instant, a series of events occurred simultaneously, each of which could only be discerned by those watching from behind.

There was an angry cry from the captain.

— Get that crazy bitch!

And one of the sailors at the back of the crowd turned pale for no apparent reason, bent over and put his hands on his knees.

Six burly men of varying ages rushed towards the lone woman like a pack of hungry dogs. And acting in unison, they quickly lost both their initial fear and any semblance of self-control, determined to take full advantage of the moment. Especially since the captain had already given the green light. Before a man's hand touched the pale skin of the Sorceress, another crew member stumbled halfway out, showing unnatural signs of sudden weakness and drowsiness. This shattered the monolith of the captain's taut face with the first crack of uncertainty, deliberately focusing his attention on what was happening. Morrigan slipped from the weak grip of the quickest attacker like a slippery fish in the hands of a fisherman. The second grabbed her more firmly, immediately twisting her elbow in an attempt to force her to her knees. But the maiden broke free, twisting the wrist with a crunch and jerking it back into place with a snap, uttering only a short, muffled groan through clenched teeth. One of them managed to grab a black ponytail and rip out a lock of hair with a jerk. Another squeezed his chest with a darkening mixture of rage and lust, the flesh turning white around calloused fingers. The ring of men tightened, leaving more dark marks on the girl's body, scratches and pale patches of subcutaneous damage. And she wriggled around the ring like a slippery snake, looking seductive, vulnerable and elusive all at once.

On the deck, bow and arrow in her teeth, Leliana watched the witch dance in the middle of the maddened crowd. She noticed that the damage to the girl's body that had been driven to the railing was fading like a mirage, and already the four of them were lying on the deck, their mouths twisted and their faces the colour of canvas. Suddenly, the first serious blow struck Morrigan's stomach, knocking the air out of her with a wheeze and forcing her to bend over. Strong fingers wrapped around her neck, forcing her to straighten. Someone with a modicum of sanity tied the girl's hands behind her back. The others just groped greedily over her body, whistling and roughly probing the tender flesh between her steep thighs.

But with the impact of a fifth sailor hitting the rail and then the deck, there was no crowd as such. The two who remained on their feet, the one who had just slapped the sorceress on the lips and the other who was grinning greasily at her between her slender legs, froze like statues. Cold fear flooded their minds like a tide, sweeping away all other emotions and thoughts. Morrigan's hoarse, chesty laugh, standing erect without a mark on her body, matched the soft groans of the assistant captain who had settled on the deck. The latter stared blankly as he tried to process the image of the debacle that had unfolded in a few minutes without the wet, naked girl making a single effort. The man's hand trembled at the scabbard of the only long sword on the ship. But when he made up his mind, the blade could not see the daylight for a quarter of the time, frozen in its tracks by the deafening shriek of the horns of the drawn bow. The red-haired archer was already aiming an arrow between his ribs with a firm hand when he noticed the presence of three more guests on the other side of the deck and immediately spread his hands.

After shaking off the loose ropes and shoving one sailor away indifferently, Morrigan turned her gaze to the other, who had just been groping the sorceress's womanhood. Under the pressure of conflicting events, the man's mind was in a stupor. She took a small step forward to meet him, cupping his wiry shoulders sensuously and asking quietly.

— Who's the owner?

A bare knee flashed next, and a jerky kick to the crotch left only two crewmen standing on the deck. Grinning and not looking at anyone, Morrigan summed up her own impressions in one short word.

— Disgusting.

Then, turning to Leliana, she added.

— You're right, I admit it. These ships are manned by strong men. But they are weak-willed in many ways, resembling a rabble of males. And only by the authority of the Force. And we are the authority now.

Leliana clucked her tongue, already having trouble holding the bowstring, and answered in a slightly trembling voice.

— I don't know where that came from. All I said was that the crews of ships like this tend to come from the big ports. Where there's a lot of men with no country, no business, often no family. Not desperate or cunning enough to taste the underside of life outside the law. They may know a lot about ships, navigation, the business of the sea. But essentially uneducated and, let's just say... Creator! I must be out of my mind if I'm trying to argue with you right now. What about the captain? The arm won't last forever, and the bow is pathetic!

Morrigan shrugged, unable to tell the difference between her own statement and that of her redheaded companion. She squinted at the man who had raised his hands, watching the exchange between the girls. Carefully moving between the half unconscious bodies and continuing to ignore her own appearance, the sorceress clapped her hands together. Causing half the audience to jump, she said.

— So. Why you. For what. Why. And what happens next. In that order. Because you're unlucky enough to be here right now. You can curse fate, luck, blind chance or your employer. And you're guilty of nothing but predictability, dullness and paranoia. I forgive the latter. We must get to the destination. And the sail, in exchange for your lives, will now serve us well. And then, Captain, you will clean up the mess behind us. The crew will be up and about this afternoon. In the meantime, don't waste any precious sunlight. Course is Kinloch Fortress. Any questions?

The man's lips curled, but he held back a sharp reply, ready to snap out of it. It was becoming clear why he was in command of the ship. The captain glanced down at his aide, face pressed against the deckboards, and spat angrily through clenched teeth. With a short, jerky movement, he unbuckled his blade scabbard and threw it at Leliana's feet.

— Anything you say... Mistress.

There wasn't a hint of resignation in his voice. There was fear, of course, but also the promise of future retribution if the situation were reversed.

As Leliana exhaled and lowered her bow with trembling hands, the older wizard turned to the younger and asked.

— Can you help me knot the clothes in the boat? Yes. One show a day is enough, I think.

And as two men dragged the bodies of the rest of the crew into the shadows, and a third man tensed at the helm keeping an eye on the sail, Bethany slipped into the boat for the rest of her belongings. There was no telling — the day was just beginning. But it was definitely coming — the landscape would soon begin to change much faster. And if they could avoid a stab in the side and poison for the rats in the soup, the fortress was only days, not weeks, away.