It made sense. There were a number of small statues about the room, all elegant women carved from ivory. Exactly the sort of thing that was all the rage right now among the Orlesian nobility, or so he’d been told by a fence. The shield on the wall looked big, and expensive. The giant set of golden scales against the wall also seemed elaborate, if far too large to carry out. All these things struck him as the type of possessions an important mage might have carried with him to his new home.
If only he could find something actually small enough to take. He froze as he heard what he thought were footsteps out in the hall, but it was just the shutters banging against the wall once again, slowly at first and then once very loudly. The breeze that followed cut through him like a knife.
Duncan was about to start searching the desk more carefully when something tucked away at the bottom of the wardrobe caught his eye. Something glittering amid a pile of rolled-up linens. Hidden. A slow smile crept across his face as he knelt down and moved some of the rolls aside. This revealed a red lacquered box, longer than it was wide and with a small golden lock. Very fancy, the sort of thing one might keep jewelry in, he thought.
Ignoring any warning thoughts about magical protection, he examined the lock closely and then reached into his belt to retrieve two fine pieces of wire. The lockpick was small enough to do the job, he figured, and as he quietly plucked away at the lock mechanism he was pleased to see he was right. It resisted him with clicking sounds until finally it gave way and released. Cautiously he pulled it out and opened the lid of the box, half expecting it to explode.
It didn’t. Duncan gasped as he looked in the box to see an ebony-black dagger lying upon red silk. The entire dagger seemed to have been carved from a single piece of glossy stone, looking almost as if it was made of glass. Was it obsidian? He had heard of such a material, but never actually seen it before. The hilt was beautiful, delicate ridges leading up to a pommel carved into a roaring dragon’s head. As he lifted it out gingerly, he saw what looked like red veins within the black blade, tiny cracks along its surface. He would have thought it was blood, but running his finger along the side told him it was perfectly smooth. Not a stain or blemish.
Now this was worth stealing. This was something special, something that the First Enchanter prized enough to hide within his own chambers. Not hide well, of course, but how much could the man expect anyone to steal from him within his own tower?
Chuckling with amusement, Duncan slid the blade into his shirt. Where the smooth metal touched his skin he felt a tingle. Not unpleasant, and almost warm. It made him like the weapon all the more.
He closed the box, relocked it, and quickly rearranged the linens. No need for the First Enchanter to ever know he was even missing anything. With any luck, the fellow never checked his precious box and wouldn’t be aware anything was amiss until Duncan and the Grey Wardens were long gone. He did bring us here to help us out, he thought. Well, he’s simply helping us out more than he guessed.
Glancing around to make sure he hadn’t accidentally moved anything else, he retreated out of the room and very gently closed the door. The lock gave a loud snap as it shut, which made him jump. He paused, listening intently for the sound of a reaction, but again there was nothing. It seemed he was alone up on this floor, after all. Perhaps you should just stop jumping at every little thing, you idiot.
As Duncan turned around, he had taken only two steps from the door before he realized that there was someone standing at the end of the hall, staring at him. He ground to a halt, his heart leaping up into his throat. It was the apprentice from the assembly hall, the one who had waved at him.
She must have seen him come out of the First Enchanter’s quarters. But why was she just standing there? Did she think that he was going to attack her?
He wasn’t, of course. If only there was somewhere to run! But he was standing at the end of a hallway; the only way out was to go through her. He remained completely still, a single bead of sweat running down his forehead as he waited for the mage to act.
Curiously, she smiled with delight and ran toward him. “I saw you leave, and I just had to follow!” She stopped short a few feet away from him. Her cheeks were flushed, and she nervously smoothed down her hair. “I had hoped that maybe your wave was an invitation, that maybe you …” Her voice trailed off suggestively.
Duncan narrowed his eyes at her, slowly catching on. “Oh. Yes, that.”
“My name is Vivian. I cannot believe I am meeting an actual Grey Warden!”
Think fast, fool. “I … am Duncan. I was … looking for you. I thought—”
“You thought I might be up here?” The young woman’s big eyes lit up and she stepped closer toward him, assuming a seductive stance as she ran a finger down his arm. “They say you Grey Wardens are clever. They also say you have a great deal of … prowess.”
“Err … yes. Yes, we do, in fact.”
She beamed with plea sure. “I hope I am not being too forward. My bed is in the dormitory, but most everyone else is in the assembly hall. We will be alone, at least for a little while.”
Duncan glanced askance at her to see if she was actually being serious. She was. The expectant look she gave him left no question as to what she intended. He’d heard that mages largely dispensed with social customs among themselves, but he hadn’t imagined it to go quite this far. Most Orlesian girls he’d known, even the rough-and-tumble ones in the streets, would have guffawed at this sort of display.
Not that he didn’t like it, necessarily. For a mage, she was rather attractive in her way. And clean, too. That alone would be a step up from the few experiences he’d had, furtively groping girls in filthy back rooms at the flop house, the act all sweat and desperation and over almost as soon as it’d begun. If this mage was looking for some kind of virtuoso performance on that front from a Grey Warden … well, he’d just have to give it his best shot, wouldn’t he?
Flashing his most charming smile at her, Duncan leaned casually against the wall. It was the sort of pose he’d seen Kell perform, and from the mage’s excited blush it seemed to have exactly the effect he was hoping for. “Vivian,” he crooned, “you have just made this trip more worthwhile than you could possibly imagine.”
Letting out something between a squeal and a giggle, she grabbed his leather and yanked him in for a kiss. He was taken by surprise and almost stumbled, but kept enough presence of mind to keep the dagger hidden in his shirt from showing itself. And then he was quickly lost in the moment.
She tasted like strawberries. Was that a mage thing? Duncan’s mind flashed to Fiona and he thought that, no, it probably wasn’t.
Evidently the sneaking-away bit didn’t always end in disaster.
4
Maric shivered as the wind blew a flurry of snow across the rocky hills. They had been traveling most of the day, making their way on foot into the hills northeast of the tower. There did not ride horses this time, not for where they were heading. As the evening had approached, it truly seemed as if the heavens opened up above them. A blizzard had been unleashed, the wind howling amid the crags as they slowly plodded through icy paths.