There and Back - Chapter 173
Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Three: Sailing Away
The morning came too soon, and found us standing on the Highever docks, waiting for a tender to ferry us out to the boat Fergus had booked. As I understood it, the ship was some sort of massive, ocean-going vessel usually used more for hauling cargo than guests, although we’d been assured that Alistair and I, and Aedan and Zevran, would have cabins rather than bunks, to my relief. Avanna had assured me that she and the other bodyguards we were bringing were happy sharing bunks or hammocks in the crew quarters or wherever they’d found space.
Fergus had brought a few guards too, though I was surprised to find he hadn’t brought one of his court mages. The Revered Mother, he’d explained, hadn’t approved of one of them traveling without a templar - or allowing them to get ‘close’ to a Teyrn. It was part of some agreement he’d made to get the mages to Highever in the first place, and he wouldn’t risk the Chantry closing down the free clinic they ran in the city in order to bring one with him.
For the millionth time, I wondered at the contradiction of the spiteful man he seemed to me, and the thoughtful Teyrn he apparently was to everyone else.
When the tender docked, I looked at it skeptically, wondering how on earth anyone was supposed to get onto the enormous ship anchored out into the harbour from its tiny, low-riding deck. I should have guessed; when we arrived at the enormous wooden hull of the ship, the crew threw down a ladder, and a small wooden swing. The swing had hand holds and ropes that were clearly meant to be seatbelts; based on the fact that Fergus had already begun climbing the ladder, I assumed the swing was likely meant for women in fancy dresses, to avoid having to expose themselves while climbing.
I snorted. Oh, hell no. There was no chance I was putting my life in the hands of some crew member hauling some rickety rope for the swing, being hauled up like a sack of potatoes - or some helpless damsel. So, thanking my lucky stars that I’d worn armour - and that my guards were female - I hauled myself up the ladder, Alistair muttering naughty comments quietly enough that only I could hear about exactly how much he enjoyed the view. I landed on the deck purple-faced and flustered, hoping everyone would mistake my breathlessness from laughter and embarrassment as being due to the climb.
The ship was huge; from what I could see, it was much, much larger than the one we’d taken from the Circle to Redcliffe. In fact, I was pretty sure that ship would fit in just one of this one’s cargo holds with room to spare. Despite its size, there wasn’t much for passenger accomodations; it was clear this was normally a working ship, not a cruise liner. Not that I even suspect cruise liners exist in Thedas. We met the bosun - an irritable, moustached man with a strong Orlesian accent; he bowed obsequiously though I got the impression he felt he was lowering himself to consort with people like us. I put it off to him being Orlesian, and honestly found it wryly amusing. He rushed off ostensibly to ‘prepare our rooms’, leaving us alone on the deck until the captain emerged from a door near the front of the ship; he was a good deal friendlier, but quite clearly busy, as he turned and started shouting orders mid-conversation.
There was a huge crane of sorts loading cargo from another tender onto the ship - which was what the captain was attempting to manage - and I looked at Fergus in surprise; since Aedan wasn’t talking to him, and Alistair and Zevran were acting sort of irritable, it was left to me to ask the obvious questions. “I thought this ship was a charter, your Grace?”
“Well, yes,” my liege-lord clarified, “but that doesn’t mean they don’t bring cargo as well; we don’t need an entire ship just for us, and the cost would be outrageous.”
“Are we the only passengers, your Grace?” Avanna asked, and I saw her eyes narrow with concern.
Fergus just shrugged. “As long as they’re going to Ostwick, and we’re not sharing cabins, what does it matter?”
I supposed he had a point, though by the looks on the faces of the rest of my traveling companions, he was the only one who felt that way.
The captain came back after a few minutes, his tanned, leathery cheeks pulled back in a smile. “I’m sorry about that.” He bowed again and then gestured at the group of people standing together and watching over us - the combined guards for three nobles. “Don’t worry, we’ve put aside space for your…staff.” He looked around for a minute, muttering under his breath about Orlesian laziness, and then finally hailed a young man who was tying down crates on the deck and called him over.
“Will you show our guests to their cabins, and their staff to the empty berth below decks? There’s a good lad.” He turned back to us. “We will be departing with the tide in an hour or so; I’d ask that you remain in your quarters until then, while we load the last of the cargo. After that you’ve got free rein of the top deck if you’d like to watch. Meals will be served in the galley, and someone will find you when they’re ready. If the wind is with us, we will be in Ostwick in five days.”
*****
Sailing across the Waking Sea was…interesting. The cabins could barely be called rooms - more like glorified broom closets - and the beds were tiny. Alistair was too tall to fit, and it was a good thing we were cuddly or we’d never have been able to get both of us in at the same time. The water was choppy, which left me feeling off balance; I wasn’t nauseated, but it still wasn’t comfortable. One of the crew members helpfully recommended I try watching the horizon, and he was right - as long as I sat on deck and didn’t move, I felt okay. Alistair, Aedan, and Zevran took turns keeping me company in a little nook I’d found near the bow of the ship on the lower deck, tucked up against some massive coils of rope, the purpose of which I couldn’t even guess. But it still left me struggling to sleep, and Alistair ended up bringing all my meals to me on deck. It could have been worse; there were several passengers we never even saw, apparently bed-bound with seasickness.
With Aedan and Fergus not on speaking terms, everything was awkward; they were trying to avoid each other, but while the ship was huge, there were only so many areas for passengers to spend time. In the end, sulking, Aedan spent most of his time either in his cabin or with me on deck. Fergus was clearly taking it hard; he was curt and unpleasant to everyone who crossed his path until everyone was avoiding him, not just Aedan.
It quickly became awkward to have guards following us around on the ship; there really wasn’t anywhere for them to stand while I was hiding in my little nest, and before long we’d all been forced to compromise by having them on deck but not necessarily right near us. Their accomodations were in an unused cargo hold; they had hammocks set up, and contrary to what Fergus had led us to believe, they each had their own space. The five women even had a partition to give them some privacy from the men. Honestly they had a lot more space than we did, and I seriously considered asking for a trade after the second sleepless night.
Fresh water on a ship at sea is at a premium; there really was only enough on board for drinking, not for washing. And while I had my water rune, we didn’t want to advertise its existence to the rest of the people on the ship; as such, none of us were allowed to shower, and bathing was restricted to a small amount of fresh water on a cloth to wipe down with - or a seawater bath, yuck. It wasn’t the first time since being in Thedas I’d been unable to bathe, but it was the first time in a long time, since we’d had the water rune for over a year. I hated it. I felt itchy and sticky and greasy and miserable, and while the crew didn’t seem to mind, I noticed my traveling companions seemed as annoyed by the whole thing as I was. My ridiculous modern bathing habits have worn off on them, too.
So all in all, it wasn’t a thrilling five days. We’d been within sight of the coast of the Free Marches for most of the last two days, but Ostwick was our destination, and the only port large enough to accommodate our ship. It was even big enough that we didn’t have to use a tender; the ship was able to come right up to the pier.
I didn’t see much of Ostwick, though I was thrilled to be standing on dry land, finally; we only had a single night in the city so the ship could offload cargo and restock for the trip to Wycome. We stayed at a dockside inn that was clean but not fancy, but really all I cared about was that our room had a bathtub. It had to be dragged up the stairs by a couple of unfortunate teenagers, but I honestly couldn’t even feel sorry for them. I did note that Alistair gave them a decent tip, however.
We were under strict instructions not to tell anyone who we were, or address each other by names or titles in public. Apparently a prince visiting a foreign city-state required a certain amount of warning - and ceremony - that we all wanted to avoid, so the best way to prevent an international incident was for no one to know who we were. To facilitate this, we were all to stay in armour - something that didn’t bother me in the least - and we left most of our things on board the ship. We’d disembarked with a minimum of luggage, kept to ourselves, ate in our rooms, and just took the chance to enjoy being on land and in proper beds for a night.
Alistair and I made love enthusiastically in the tub, and then again afterwards; we were both somewhat desperate after the dirty, cramped, seasick days on the ship. It was glorious to be clean, and I slept like the dead. I certainly wasn’t excited to get back on board the next morning, but at least I was in a somewhat better mood after a relaxing night.
The next leg of the trip was better than the first; we were four days from Wycome, but the waters between Ostwick and Wycome were absolutely still, and I’d apparently finally gotten my ‘sea legs’ - meaning my disorienting imbalance issue had largely resolved. That didn’t change where I spent most of my time - our cabin really was too small to hang out in for days on end - but it did remarkably improve the misery I experienced while curled up in the massive coil of rope on the bow of the ship watching the water. I even saw what I was quite sure was a pod of dolphins in the distance as we sailed.
The trip from Ostwick to Wycome kept us close to shore the entire time; it was rare for us to go far enough out that we couldn’t see land. I found this reassuring, given the number of people we knew of who’d been lost at sea over the last few years, but it also made for interesting watching. Sometimes there were animals on the shore, including a few small bears, wolves, and myriad smaller creatures, but also sometimes including people. There were places where some sort of road must have wandered close to shore, because we could see carts and horses in the distance, and campfires at night.
I wasn’t sad to learn that our cranky Orlesian bosun had been left behhind in Ostwick; he’d been far less than helpful on the trip, and the captain was apparently even less enchanted with his efforts. Though I got the impression that he might just have left, rather than be fired, since everyone seemed surprised that he wasn’t on deck when we boarded in the morning. He hadn’t been replaced yet, but as we’d done just fine without one, I didn’t think we were missing anything.
The weather got warmer the further north we traveled, to the point that most days I wore just my regular clothes - the lightly armoured pant suits I’d had tailored for appearances at court or the Landsmeet. The skies were blue, and it was really incredibly pleasant. I spent the days joking with the people I cared about the most, or just lying there, half-hidden, enjoying the novelty of having nothing to do, and interesting scenery to watch while doing it. Weekends weren’t exactly a thing in Thedas, especially while fighting a Blight; we hadn’t really had much time off since I’d arrived near Ostagar.
The only downsides were the continued lack of bathing facilities, and the fact that the bed in our cabin really was too small for much in the way of nighttime activities. We’d made do with a quicky here and there - with Alistair pushing me up against the cabin door, my legs around his waist, for example - but I missed having the space to relax together and take our time pleasing each other. Lying in the tiny bed and not being able to take advantage of our free time was excruciating.
It got bad enough that the night before we expected to arrive in Wycome, after trying for hours to fall asleep crushed between Alistair and the wall, I finally crawled out of bed, dressed silently, and snuck out of the room, leaving my husband snoring in bed. Our guards were standing outside, as usual, and without a word, mine turned to follow me onto the deck. I paced for a while, enjoying the night breeze and the quiet of a ship where nearly everyone was asleep, but I truly was tired. I told my guard to make herself comfortable, pulled myself up into my usual spot on the bow, and curled up in the coil of rope intending to stargaze until I felt ready to try to sleep again.
Unsurprisingly, I watched the sky for a few minutes before my eyes grew heavy and I drifted off.
*****
“Where is she?” an unfamiliar man’s voice hissed, clearly agitated, but still trying to remain quiet.
Drowsy still, I opened my eyes, realising I’d fallen asleep on deck. It was still dark, and clouds had covered the moons; I couldn’t see much of anything. I blinked a couple times and then gave up and closed my eyes again, content to go back to sleep.
“How would I know? I’m not on duty,” a different, quiet voice replied; this one I recognised as belonging to Dera, my Guard - and Fergus’ potential spy. Her tone was clipped in a way I’d never heard it before, as though she were angry, or perhaps panicked.
The man’s voice replied, rising with every word, and I started to pick out the hint of an accent that was muffled but somehow still familiar. “Well you’d better figure it out, little rabbit, before I crop those ears of yours to remind you to whom you belong.”
I bristled; Dera might have been a spy, but I wouldn’t tolerate that sort of racist shit with anyone, never mind one of my employees. And ‘belong’? I don’t think so - nobody belongs to anyone if I have anything to say about it. I tried to sit up, but I’d clearly fallen asleep awkwardly and my arm was numb. Falling back down on my side, I pulled it in front of me to rub some feeling back into my hand.
I wondered why the conversation was happening so close to me; where was my guard? Even though it was Dera, I’d have expected the grim, humourless woman who’d followed me on deck to at least ask what they were doing. Usually my guards were overly-obsessive about letting anyone approach me.
“This wasn’t the deal, Mateo. Just watch and report back - that’s all I was supposed to do.” Her voice sounded tearful now, and I stopped moving, wondering what the hell my guard had gotten herself into. “Not this!”
“I’m changing the deal. And if you ever want to see your sister again, I suggest you come to terms with it quickly, yes?” The more he spoke, the more clear the accent; he sounded like Zevran, when he was trying to be his most charming self. “The others have the traitor and the noble fops covered; I will not be the one to fail. Where is she?” I could almost hear him shake the poor elf, who whimpered pitifully.
It occurred to my fuzzy, sleep-dulled mind that something much worse than just having my guard spy on me was going on; as I struggled for clarity, I realised that we - I could only assume Alistair and Fergus were the ‘noble fops’, Zevran the traitor, and me the missing ‘she’ this guy was looking for - were under attack, and that the apparently Antivan guy was probably a Crow.
Shit!
Suddenly more than alert, I glanced around quickly, looking for something with which to defend myself. I had left my daggers in the small chest in my cabin, never dreaming I would need them on the ship. I tried to push myself up carefully, not wanting to draw attention to myself but needing to know where the Crow was, wanting to look for a makeshift weapon…something.
I heard what sounded like a slap, and a muffled cry. I clenched my teeth to stop myself from calling out.
Where the hell is my guard?
It was nearly black as pitch on deck; the only significant light came from under the door to the hallway that led to the passenger cabins. I caught a brief flash out of the corner of my eye, and realised it was the reflection of that weak light on a blade of some sort. From how it was angled, I could tell the person holding it was facing away from me, and I risked sitting up entirely, scrambling to my knees and ducking down again where I couldn’t be seen.
Clearly Dera was conflicted about her role in all this; there was no chance she didn’t know where I was - I’d been hiding out in the same spot for days. She hadn’t told the Crow - who sounded like he was holding her sister hostage - so I had a slight advantage. I knew he was after me, and he didn’t know where I was hiding. And maybe, possibly, Dera was on my side.
Too bad that, without a weapon, I couldn’t make use of that advantage.
I lifted my head and peered over the far side of the pile of rope I’d fallen asleep on. I’d always gotten into my spot the same way, and hadn’t ever really looked to see what was behind it. There was a small space there, between the rope and the railing of the ship. With a quick glance back towards the Crow - who I could no longer see - I took a breath, silently uttered a prayer for luck, and dove over the top of the coil of rope, landing on my hands and knees on the deck.
I could see no way out from where I crouched; clearly the space was an oversight, not part of a planned corridor leading to the rest of the ship. Another coil of rope and a number of huge crates blocked my path, and I couldn’t even see the cabin door from my tiny space. Which was good in one way - I was unlikely to be found, really - but a problem if I wanted to help the rest of my family who were potentially about to be assassinated.
Without any other options, I climbed to my feet and leaned out over the railing. I couldn’t see the water; I could barely see the planks at my feet, if I was honest. Most ships, from what I understood, didn’t have these particular safety features, but as this was one of the few that carried passengers on a regular basis, the entire lower deck was circled by sturdy wooden railings, broken only by a couple of gaps where people could climb up from the tenders or the docks below.
Thankful that Fergus had chartered this particular ship, I took another calming breath and swung my leg up and over the railing. It held, my grip firm, and I climbed the rest of the way over quickly. It was less scary than I expected, maybe because I couldn’t see the water below me, or maybe because I knew it was water, not ground; either way, despite my heart racing, I didn’t hesitate to start inching my way along on the wrong side of the railing.
I couldn’t hear the voices anymore, and I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not; on the up side, probably no one knew where I was and that meant I wasn’t about to be attacked. On the down side, I had no idea where my would-be assailant was, and couldn’t prepare for him jumping out at me unexpectedly. Nothing I can do about it now but hope. I closed my eyes briefly, hoping with all my heart that my family - Alistair, Aedan, Zevran…even Fergus - were still safe. And then I inched my feet further along the edge of the ship.
It took way too long to get past the things covering the deck of the ship; I slipped several times, leaving me contemplating just how bad falling into the water from this height would be. Once I passed the coils of rope, there were more crates and barrels taking up more space. I had to keep going. Finally I reached a spot where there was room on the deck between the edge where I clung and the stuff, and I scrambled back over the railing. I crept carefully around a crate, to realise that I was right near the door that led to the cabins.
I looked around cautiously, at first seeing no one nearby. That in itself was unusual - nighttime or not, there were usually at least a few sailors around keeping an eye on things. I peeked around the corner, and finally realised why I’d seen no one - and why my guard hadn’t challenged whoever was creeping around on deck with Dera. Three bodies lay slumped in a pile in the shadow of the crate, barely visible in the dim light from under the door. Two wore only the loose trousers that marked them as crew members; the third wore leather armour and a familiar tabard with the Theirin crest. A large pool of blood had collected underneath them and ran towards the nearest crate.
I slapped a hand over my mouth to stop the cry that wanted to escape. Other than Avanna, I hadn’t gotten to know any of my guards well, but they had followed me without complaint, watching my back and keeping me from harm whether I needed them or not, and now one - at least one, please Maker let it just be one - had died for me. I wanted to wail and gnash my teeth…and rip whoever had killed her limb from limb.
I swallowed the sob. I don’t have time for this right now; mourn later, Sierra. I took a few slow breaths and peeked around the corner again. I tiptoed towards the three bodies, crouching down to confirm that yes, they were all dead - and to see if any of them carried weapons I could use.
My guards all carried swords and shields; I was terrible with swords, and the shields were usually too heavy to be practical for me. I hoped she might have a dagger hiding somewhere, but couldn’t find anything. I checked the sailors next; the first had nothing, but the second had a long, curved knife in a sheath at his waist. Rather than trying to untie it, I just drew the blade from the sheath. It was longer than I was used to, and broader; it wouldn’t be any good for the stabbing I was trained for, but it was still better than nothing. The handle was wet with spilled blood, and I gulped, my stomach twisting.
I had just stood up again, still hiding in the shadows where two crates met, when I heard rustling close by - too close. I gripped my knife and waited. A heartbeat passed, and then another, and then a dark shape blocked the light between me and the door. Several inches taller than any elf, and wearing a dark hood that covered his face, I knew it had to be the Antivan who was after me. I had one brief moment of doubt - he hadn’t done anything to me, not yet; could I be sure he was an assassin? - but I remembered his tone, his words to Dera…and the corpses at my feet. They didn’t all spontaneously slit their own throats. I knew part of me would regret it later - I already felt nauseated thinking about it - but I wouldn’t let this man, or anyone else, hurt my family because I was too queasy to do what needed to be done.
Before I could think about it any further, I struck from behind, wrapping my arm around his broad shoulders and slashing at his neck with the long, unwieldy blade. It was a poor attempt; I wasn’t used to the longer blade, and had only the slightest idea what to do with it.
He shouted, twisting to try to throw me off; all it did was drive my knife deeper, and I held on as he collapsed down, blood and air bubbling out of his ruined throat. I’d pulled the move on dozens of darkspawn during the Blight, and while he was the first human I’d taken down in that particular fashion, I had no doubt that he was dead - or would be very shortly.
I heard a cry behind me, and jumped up, spinning with knife in hand, blood spraying off my blade in a sickening arc. Dera stood there, unarmed and unarmoured, blood splattering onto her clothes as I completed my turn.
She dropped to her knees the moment she realised it was me, hands up in supplication. “I’m sorry, your Highness,” she gasped. “They-”
“We don’t have time for that,” I interrupted. “Not right now.” I reached down and yanked at the cloak tangled around the dead man at my feet, hacking off a long strip with my knife. I didn’t get the chance to tie her, however, before the door that led to the cabins swung part way open, and I raised my knife with a curse.
The morning came too soon, and found us standing on the Highever docks, waiting for a tender to ferry us out to the boat Fergus had booked. As I understood it, the ship was some sort of massive, ocean-going vessel usually used more for hauling cargo than guests, although we’d been assured that Alistair and I, and Aedan and Zevran, would have cabins rather than bunks, to my relief. Avanna had assured me that she and the other bodyguards we were bringing were happy sharing bunks or hammocks in the crew quarters or wherever they’d found space.
Fergus had brought a few guards too, though I was surprised to find he hadn’t brought one of his court mages. The Revered Mother, he’d explained, hadn’t approved of one of them traveling without a templar - or allowing them to get ‘close’ to a Teyrn. It was part of some agreement he’d made to get the mages to Highever in the first place, and he wouldn’t risk the Chantry closing down the free clinic they ran in the city in order to bring one with him.
For the millionth time, I wondered at the contradiction of the spiteful man he seemed to me, and the thoughtful Teyrn he apparently was to everyone else.
When the tender docked, I looked at it skeptically, wondering how on earth anyone was supposed to get onto the enormous ship anchored out into the harbour from its tiny, low-riding deck. I should have guessed; when we arrived at the enormous wooden hull of the ship, the crew threw down a ladder, and a small wooden swing. The swing had hand holds and ropes that were clearly meant to be seatbelts; based on the fact that Fergus had already begun climbing the ladder, I assumed the swing was likely meant for women in fancy dresses, to avoid having to expose themselves while climbing.
I snorted. Oh, hell no. There was no chance I was putting my life in the hands of some crew member hauling some rickety rope for the swing, being hauled up like a sack of potatoes - or some helpless damsel. So, thanking my lucky stars that I’d worn armour - and that my guards were female - I hauled myself up the ladder, Alistair muttering naughty comments quietly enough that only I could hear about exactly how much he enjoyed the view. I landed on the deck purple-faced and flustered, hoping everyone would mistake my breathlessness from laughter and embarrassment as being due to the climb.
The ship was huge; from what I could see, it was much, much larger than the one we’d taken from the Circle to Redcliffe. In fact, I was pretty sure that ship would fit in just one of this one’s cargo holds with room to spare. Despite its size, there wasn’t much for passenger accomodations; it was clear this was normally a working ship, not a cruise liner. Not that I even suspect cruise liners exist in Thedas. We met the bosun - an irritable, moustached man with a strong Orlesian accent; he bowed obsequiously though I got the impression he felt he was lowering himself to consort with people like us. I put it off to him being Orlesian, and honestly found it wryly amusing. He rushed off ostensibly to ‘prepare our rooms’, leaving us alone on the deck until the captain emerged from a door near the front of the ship; he was a good deal friendlier, but quite clearly busy, as he turned and started shouting orders mid-conversation.
There was a huge crane of sorts loading cargo from another tender onto the ship - which was what the captain was attempting to manage - and I looked at Fergus in surprise; since Aedan wasn’t talking to him, and Alistair and Zevran were acting sort of irritable, it was left to me to ask the obvious questions. “I thought this ship was a charter, your Grace?”
“Well, yes,” my liege-lord clarified, “but that doesn’t mean they don’t bring cargo as well; we don’t need an entire ship just for us, and the cost would be outrageous.”
“Are we the only passengers, your Grace?” Avanna asked, and I saw her eyes narrow with concern.
Fergus just shrugged. “As long as they’re going to Ostwick, and we’re not sharing cabins, what does it matter?”
I supposed he had a point, though by the looks on the faces of the rest of my traveling companions, he was the only one who felt that way.
The captain came back after a few minutes, his tanned, leathery cheeks pulled back in a smile. “I’m sorry about that.” He bowed again and then gestured at the group of people standing together and watching over us - the combined guards for three nobles. “Don’t worry, we’ve put aside space for your…staff.” He looked around for a minute, muttering under his breath about Orlesian laziness, and then finally hailed a young man who was tying down crates on the deck and called him over.
“Will you show our guests to their cabins, and their staff to the empty berth below decks? There’s a good lad.” He turned back to us. “We will be departing with the tide in an hour or so; I’d ask that you remain in your quarters until then, while we load the last of the cargo. After that you’ve got free rein of the top deck if you’d like to watch. Meals will be served in the galley, and someone will find you when they’re ready. If the wind is with us, we will be in Ostwick in five days.”
*****
Sailing across the Waking Sea was…interesting. The cabins could barely be called rooms - more like glorified broom closets - and the beds were tiny. Alistair was too tall to fit, and it was a good thing we were cuddly or we’d never have been able to get both of us in at the same time. The water was choppy, which left me feeling off balance; I wasn’t nauseated, but it still wasn’t comfortable. One of the crew members helpfully recommended I try watching the horizon, and he was right - as long as I sat on deck and didn’t move, I felt okay. Alistair, Aedan, and Zevran took turns keeping me company in a little nook I’d found near the bow of the ship on the lower deck, tucked up against some massive coils of rope, the purpose of which I couldn’t even guess. But it still left me struggling to sleep, and Alistair ended up bringing all my meals to me on deck. It could have been worse; there were several passengers we never even saw, apparently bed-bound with seasickness.
With Aedan and Fergus not on speaking terms, everything was awkward; they were trying to avoid each other, but while the ship was huge, there were only so many areas for passengers to spend time. In the end, sulking, Aedan spent most of his time either in his cabin or with me on deck. Fergus was clearly taking it hard; he was curt and unpleasant to everyone who crossed his path until everyone was avoiding him, not just Aedan.
It quickly became awkward to have guards following us around on the ship; there really wasn’t anywhere for them to stand while I was hiding in my little nest, and before long we’d all been forced to compromise by having them on deck but not necessarily right near us. Their accomodations were in an unused cargo hold; they had hammocks set up, and contrary to what Fergus had led us to believe, they each had their own space. The five women even had a partition to give them some privacy from the men. Honestly they had a lot more space than we did, and I seriously considered asking for a trade after the second sleepless night.
Fresh water on a ship at sea is at a premium; there really was only enough on board for drinking, not for washing. And while I had my water rune, we didn’t want to advertise its existence to the rest of the people on the ship; as such, none of us were allowed to shower, and bathing was restricted to a small amount of fresh water on a cloth to wipe down with - or a seawater bath, yuck. It wasn’t the first time since being in Thedas I’d been unable to bathe, but it was the first time in a long time, since we’d had the water rune for over a year. I hated it. I felt itchy and sticky and greasy and miserable, and while the crew didn’t seem to mind, I noticed my traveling companions seemed as annoyed by the whole thing as I was. My ridiculous modern bathing habits have worn off on them, too.
So all in all, it wasn’t a thrilling five days. We’d been within sight of the coast of the Free Marches for most of the last two days, but Ostwick was our destination, and the only port large enough to accommodate our ship. It was even big enough that we didn’t have to use a tender; the ship was able to come right up to the pier.
I didn’t see much of Ostwick, though I was thrilled to be standing on dry land, finally; we only had a single night in the city so the ship could offload cargo and restock for the trip to Wycome. We stayed at a dockside inn that was clean but not fancy, but really all I cared about was that our room had a bathtub. It had to be dragged up the stairs by a couple of unfortunate teenagers, but I honestly couldn’t even feel sorry for them. I did note that Alistair gave them a decent tip, however.
We were under strict instructions not to tell anyone who we were, or address each other by names or titles in public. Apparently a prince visiting a foreign city-state required a certain amount of warning - and ceremony - that we all wanted to avoid, so the best way to prevent an international incident was for no one to know who we were. To facilitate this, we were all to stay in armour - something that didn’t bother me in the least - and we left most of our things on board the ship. We’d disembarked with a minimum of luggage, kept to ourselves, ate in our rooms, and just took the chance to enjoy being on land and in proper beds for a night.
Alistair and I made love enthusiastically in the tub, and then again afterwards; we were both somewhat desperate after the dirty, cramped, seasick days on the ship. It was glorious to be clean, and I slept like the dead. I certainly wasn’t excited to get back on board the next morning, but at least I was in a somewhat better mood after a relaxing night.
The next leg of the trip was better than the first; we were four days from Wycome, but the waters between Ostwick and Wycome were absolutely still, and I’d apparently finally gotten my ‘sea legs’ - meaning my disorienting imbalance issue had largely resolved. That didn’t change where I spent most of my time - our cabin really was too small to hang out in for days on end - but it did remarkably improve the misery I experienced while curled up in the massive coil of rope on the bow of the ship watching the water. I even saw what I was quite sure was a pod of dolphins in the distance as we sailed.
The trip from Ostwick to Wycome kept us close to shore the entire time; it was rare for us to go far enough out that we couldn’t see land. I found this reassuring, given the number of people we knew of who’d been lost at sea over the last few years, but it also made for interesting watching. Sometimes there were animals on the shore, including a few small bears, wolves, and myriad smaller creatures, but also sometimes including people. There were places where some sort of road must have wandered close to shore, because we could see carts and horses in the distance, and campfires at night.
I wasn’t sad to learn that our cranky Orlesian bosun had been left behhind in Ostwick; he’d been far less than helpful on the trip, and the captain was apparently even less enchanted with his efforts. Though I got the impression that he might just have left, rather than be fired, since everyone seemed surprised that he wasn’t on deck when we boarded in the morning. He hadn’t been replaced yet, but as we’d done just fine without one, I didn’t think we were missing anything.
The weather got warmer the further north we traveled, to the point that most days I wore just my regular clothes - the lightly armoured pant suits I’d had tailored for appearances at court or the Landsmeet. The skies were blue, and it was really incredibly pleasant. I spent the days joking with the people I cared about the most, or just lying there, half-hidden, enjoying the novelty of having nothing to do, and interesting scenery to watch while doing it. Weekends weren’t exactly a thing in Thedas, especially while fighting a Blight; we hadn’t really had much time off since I’d arrived near Ostagar.
The only downsides were the continued lack of bathing facilities, and the fact that the bed in our cabin really was too small for much in the way of nighttime activities. We’d made do with a quicky here and there - with Alistair pushing me up against the cabin door, my legs around his waist, for example - but I missed having the space to relax together and take our time pleasing each other. Lying in the tiny bed and not being able to take advantage of our free time was excruciating.
It got bad enough that the night before we expected to arrive in Wycome, after trying for hours to fall asleep crushed between Alistair and the wall, I finally crawled out of bed, dressed silently, and snuck out of the room, leaving my husband snoring in bed. Our guards were standing outside, as usual, and without a word, mine turned to follow me onto the deck. I paced for a while, enjoying the night breeze and the quiet of a ship where nearly everyone was asleep, but I truly was tired. I told my guard to make herself comfortable, pulled myself up into my usual spot on the bow, and curled up in the coil of rope intending to stargaze until I felt ready to try to sleep again.
Unsurprisingly, I watched the sky for a few minutes before my eyes grew heavy and I drifted off.
*****
“Where is she?” an unfamiliar man’s voice hissed, clearly agitated, but still trying to remain quiet.
Drowsy still, I opened my eyes, realising I’d fallen asleep on deck. It was still dark, and clouds had covered the moons; I couldn’t see much of anything. I blinked a couple times and then gave up and closed my eyes again, content to go back to sleep.
“How would I know? I’m not on duty,” a different, quiet voice replied; this one I recognised as belonging to Dera, my Guard - and Fergus’ potential spy. Her tone was clipped in a way I’d never heard it before, as though she were angry, or perhaps panicked.
The man’s voice replied, rising with every word, and I started to pick out the hint of an accent that was muffled but somehow still familiar. “Well you’d better figure it out, little rabbit, before I crop those ears of yours to remind you to whom you belong.”
I bristled; Dera might have been a spy, but I wouldn’t tolerate that sort of racist shit with anyone, never mind one of my employees. And ‘belong’? I don’t think so - nobody belongs to anyone if I have anything to say about it. I tried to sit up, but I’d clearly fallen asleep awkwardly and my arm was numb. Falling back down on my side, I pulled it in front of me to rub some feeling back into my hand.
I wondered why the conversation was happening so close to me; where was my guard? Even though it was Dera, I’d have expected the grim, humourless woman who’d followed me on deck to at least ask what they were doing. Usually my guards were overly-obsessive about letting anyone approach me.
“This wasn’t the deal, Mateo. Just watch and report back - that’s all I was supposed to do.” Her voice sounded tearful now, and I stopped moving, wondering what the hell my guard had gotten herself into. “Not this!”
“I’m changing the deal. And if you ever want to see your sister again, I suggest you come to terms with it quickly, yes?” The more he spoke, the more clear the accent; he sounded like Zevran, when he was trying to be his most charming self. “The others have the traitor and the noble fops covered; I will not be the one to fail. Where is she?” I could almost hear him shake the poor elf, who whimpered pitifully.
It occurred to my fuzzy, sleep-dulled mind that something much worse than just having my guard spy on me was going on; as I struggled for clarity, I realised that we - I could only assume Alistair and Fergus were the ‘noble fops’, Zevran the traitor, and me the missing ‘she’ this guy was looking for - were under attack, and that the apparently Antivan guy was probably a Crow.
Shit!
Suddenly more than alert, I glanced around quickly, looking for something with which to defend myself. I had left my daggers in the small chest in my cabin, never dreaming I would need them on the ship. I tried to push myself up carefully, not wanting to draw attention to myself but needing to know where the Crow was, wanting to look for a makeshift weapon…something.
I heard what sounded like a slap, and a muffled cry. I clenched my teeth to stop myself from calling out.
Where the hell is my guard?
It was nearly black as pitch on deck; the only significant light came from under the door to the hallway that led to the passenger cabins. I caught a brief flash out of the corner of my eye, and realised it was the reflection of that weak light on a blade of some sort. From how it was angled, I could tell the person holding it was facing away from me, and I risked sitting up entirely, scrambling to my knees and ducking down again where I couldn’t be seen.
Clearly Dera was conflicted about her role in all this; there was no chance she didn’t know where I was - I’d been hiding out in the same spot for days. She hadn’t told the Crow - who sounded like he was holding her sister hostage - so I had a slight advantage. I knew he was after me, and he didn’t know where I was hiding. And maybe, possibly, Dera was on my side.
Too bad that, without a weapon, I couldn’t make use of that advantage.
I lifted my head and peered over the far side of the pile of rope I’d fallen asleep on. I’d always gotten into my spot the same way, and hadn’t ever really looked to see what was behind it. There was a small space there, between the rope and the railing of the ship. With a quick glance back towards the Crow - who I could no longer see - I took a breath, silently uttered a prayer for luck, and dove over the top of the coil of rope, landing on my hands and knees on the deck.
I could see no way out from where I crouched; clearly the space was an oversight, not part of a planned corridor leading to the rest of the ship. Another coil of rope and a number of huge crates blocked my path, and I couldn’t even see the cabin door from my tiny space. Which was good in one way - I was unlikely to be found, really - but a problem if I wanted to help the rest of my family who were potentially about to be assassinated.
Without any other options, I climbed to my feet and leaned out over the railing. I couldn’t see the water; I could barely see the planks at my feet, if I was honest. Most ships, from what I understood, didn’t have these particular safety features, but as this was one of the few that carried passengers on a regular basis, the entire lower deck was circled by sturdy wooden railings, broken only by a couple of gaps where people could climb up from the tenders or the docks below.
Thankful that Fergus had chartered this particular ship, I took another calming breath and swung my leg up and over the railing. It held, my grip firm, and I climbed the rest of the way over quickly. It was less scary than I expected, maybe because I couldn’t see the water below me, or maybe because I knew it was water, not ground; either way, despite my heart racing, I didn’t hesitate to start inching my way along on the wrong side of the railing.
I couldn’t hear the voices anymore, and I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not; on the up side, probably no one knew where I was and that meant I wasn’t about to be attacked. On the down side, I had no idea where my would-be assailant was, and couldn’t prepare for him jumping out at me unexpectedly. Nothing I can do about it now but hope. I closed my eyes briefly, hoping with all my heart that my family - Alistair, Aedan, Zevran…even Fergus - were still safe. And then I inched my feet further along the edge of the ship.
It took way too long to get past the things covering the deck of the ship; I slipped several times, leaving me contemplating just how bad falling into the water from this height would be. Once I passed the coils of rope, there were more crates and barrels taking up more space. I had to keep going. Finally I reached a spot where there was room on the deck between the edge where I clung and the stuff, and I scrambled back over the railing. I crept carefully around a crate, to realise that I was right near the door that led to the cabins.
I looked around cautiously, at first seeing no one nearby. That in itself was unusual - nighttime or not, there were usually at least a few sailors around keeping an eye on things. I peeked around the corner, and finally realised why I’d seen no one - and why my guard hadn’t challenged whoever was creeping around on deck with Dera. Three bodies lay slumped in a pile in the shadow of the crate, barely visible in the dim light from under the door. Two wore only the loose trousers that marked them as crew members; the third wore leather armour and a familiar tabard with the Theirin crest. A large pool of blood had collected underneath them and ran towards the nearest crate.
I slapped a hand over my mouth to stop the cry that wanted to escape. Other than Avanna, I hadn’t gotten to know any of my guards well, but they had followed me without complaint, watching my back and keeping me from harm whether I needed them or not, and now one - at least one, please Maker let it just be one - had died for me. I wanted to wail and gnash my teeth…and rip whoever had killed her limb from limb.
I swallowed the sob. I don’t have time for this right now; mourn later, Sierra. I took a few slow breaths and peeked around the corner again. I tiptoed towards the three bodies, crouching down to confirm that yes, they were all dead - and to see if any of them carried weapons I could use.
My guards all carried swords and shields; I was terrible with swords, and the shields were usually too heavy to be practical for me. I hoped she might have a dagger hiding somewhere, but couldn’t find anything. I checked the sailors next; the first had nothing, but the second had a long, curved knife in a sheath at his waist. Rather than trying to untie it, I just drew the blade from the sheath. It was longer than I was used to, and broader; it wouldn’t be any good for the stabbing I was trained for, but it was still better than nothing. The handle was wet with spilled blood, and I gulped, my stomach twisting.
I had just stood up again, still hiding in the shadows where two crates met, when I heard rustling close by - too close. I gripped my knife and waited. A heartbeat passed, and then another, and then a dark shape blocked the light between me and the door. Several inches taller than any elf, and wearing a dark hood that covered his face, I knew it had to be the Antivan who was after me. I had one brief moment of doubt - he hadn’t done anything to me, not yet; could I be sure he was an assassin? - but I remembered his tone, his words to Dera…and the corpses at my feet. They didn’t all spontaneously slit their own throats. I knew part of me would regret it later - I already felt nauseated thinking about it - but I wouldn’t let this man, or anyone else, hurt my family because I was too queasy to do what needed to be done.
Before I could think about it any further, I struck from behind, wrapping my arm around his broad shoulders and slashing at his neck with the long, unwieldy blade. It was a poor attempt; I wasn’t used to the longer blade, and had only the slightest idea what to do with it.
He shouted, twisting to try to throw me off; all it did was drive my knife deeper, and I held on as he collapsed down, blood and air bubbling out of his ruined throat. I’d pulled the move on dozens of darkspawn during the Blight, and while he was the first human I’d taken down in that particular fashion, I had no doubt that he was dead - or would be very shortly.
I heard a cry behind me, and jumped up, spinning with knife in hand, blood spraying off my blade in a sickening arc. Dera stood there, unarmed and unarmoured, blood splattering onto her clothes as I completed my turn.
She dropped to her knees the moment she realised it was me, hands up in supplication. “I’m sorry, your Highness,” she gasped. “They-”
“We don’t have time for that,” I interrupted. “Not right now.” I reached down and yanked at the cloak tangled around the dead man at my feet, hacking off a long strip with my knife. I didn’t get the chance to tie her, however, before the door that led to the cabins swung part way open, and I raised my knife with a curse.