When the heaving was finally done, he looked back and gave them a saucy grin and a victorious thumbs-up. They applauded him vigorously, and he had to admit he was pretty damned pleased with himself.
He noticed, too, the appreciative look that Fiona shot King Maric. The man just shrugged it off with a shy smile.
Genevieve left her spot by the wall and walked back to her tent, sitting down on a large rock just outside. Duncan watched as she began taking out her weapons and laying them out around her for cleaning. It was a ritual he had watched her do often in the months that he’d known her.
The Commander paused and ran a hand through her white hair, yawning. She looked exhausted, he thought—not just physically but emotionally. She seemed aged, too, like her years were rapidly catching up with her. He supposed the thought of following after her brother when she had already written him off as dead must be difficult.
Duncan had never met Bregan, having joined the order months after the man had left for his Calling. He knew plenty about the man by reputation, however. His presence had lingered among the Grey Wardens long after his departure. His sister mentioned him often. The others had spoken of him, as well, and far more enthusiastically. Duncan always had the impression that most felt Genevieve didn’t mea sure up to her brother as Commander, though it was never spoken of openly.
“Duncan,” Genevieve remarked wearily, noticing him staring at her. She rested her head in her hand. “What are you doing?”
He wandered over to her, leaving the others behind. He could hear them talking again, Kell noisily stoking the campfire to keep it going. “I just thought these dwarven ruins might like some of their ale more than I did,” he said with a wink.
She chuckled, and then took stock of some of the weapons she had laid out. The sword was the most impressive of the bunch, an elaborate two-handed blade that sparkled even though they were well away from the fire. Its magical runes were almost invisible, but one could make them out in the darkness. It had been her brother’s, she’d told him once, handed over when he left into the Deep Roads.
Then she paused, and it seemed as if she remembered something awkward. “Ah. About what happened back at the tower …”
“It was just a girl!” he protested, the blush already creeping into his cheeks. He just knew she would bring this up eventually, and already had a defense all planned. “Surely that isn’t against the Grey Warden’s rules as well, is it?”
Genevieve arched a brow, her look one of clear disbelief. “So you followed the girl up there, did you? In order to lie with her?”
“It’s what … young men do, right? Or so I hear.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“What? It could happen.”
She leaned back, folding her arms and fixing him with a level gaze. Duncan knew that look. It was the sort of look that could lead to things like getting one’s head smacked against walls. “So what were you actually doing up there, prior to your … run-in with the young woman?”
He sighed in exasperation. “Looking around for something to steal.”
Her eyes narrowed. “From the mages? Are you mad?”
“No risk, no reward. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyhow.”
Her face tensed, and it looked like she had a few things she was going to tell him herself. But then she waved them away with a flash of annoyance. He supposed it didn’t mean much where they were, especially well after the fact. “At least you weren’t caught,” she muttered. “Though the flagrant risks you take are completely unacceptable.”
“We’re all going to die, right?” He chuckled, but he was only half joking. “Whether I die now or later doesn’t seem all that risky to me.” Genevieve picked up on his tone right away, and her expression darkened. She said nothing and nodded gravely, her attention returning to her sword.
Duncan supposed it was a little unfair to throw that in her face. She was far closer to her Calling than he was, and no doubt acutely aware that what ever happened down here, she would be following the path of her brother soon enough. He turned to go.
“Wait,” Genevieve called after him. “I think it’s time to explain your duty to you.”
He paused. “My duty? Watching after the King? Is there more to it than that?”
Her mouth thinned into a grim line, and Duncan’s flippant mood evaporated. She was utterly serious now. He moved in a little closer and crouched down near where she sat. She barely noticed him, formulating the proper words in her head.
“It’s entirely possible,” she said slowly, “that what we do here will fail. You know what the Grey Wardens thought of all this. They don’t believe Bregan has been captured, none of it.”
“I believe it,” Duncan averred. He meant it, too. Genevieve could be many things, but in the short time he had known her, foolish and gullible were neither of those things. If those who had known her longer denied her visions for their own reasons, more fools they.
She nodded at him, her eyes showing a flash of gratitude. “The point is that we could die. There are only a few of us here, and despite what any of us believe, the chances of us actually finding Bregan before the darkspawn realize we are here and react is small.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“If something has truly changed within the darkspawn, the threat of a Blight occurring is great indeed. If we cannot stop them from taking that information from Bregan, my job will be to assess the likelihood of them using it. At that point, your job will be to get King Maric back to the surface.”
“By myself?”
She nodded. “You’re stealthy. The King far less so, but you know better than any of us how to move unseen. I’m counting on you to take him.”
“Don’t you mean Kell? He’s a hunter, he could—”
“I’m counting on you,” she reiterated.
He gulped. Tall order, that.
“His nation will need him,” she continued. Genevieve picked up her blade and balanced it lightly on her knee. She ran an admiring finger down its length, seemingly fascinated by the details etched into its steel. “They will need a leader who has seen the threat of the Blight firsthand, who believes in it. King Maric could help alert all of Thedas and bring the Grey Wardens great credibility in what ever follows.”
“But what if … ?” Duncan let his question hang, feeling guilty even for thinking it.
“There is also the possibility that I’m wrong,” Genevieve stated evenly, finishing his thought without any sense of accusation. She glanced up at Duncan, her eyes dangerous. “That Bregan is dead, and I’ve made a terrible error in bringing us here. Or something worse.”
“Worse?”
“If what King Maric learns could harm the Grey Wardens, could make us look like fools and prevent us from carrying out our duty, then you must make certain he never reaches the surface at all.”
Duncan gasped in disbelief. “You mean … ?”
She held her chin thoughtfully, her thoughts distant. “He may try to escape. What ever his reasons for joining us, however, the die is cast. If he must disappear down here in order for us to claim what ever story we wish on the surface, then that is what we must do.” Noticing Duncan’s wide-eyed look, she affixed him with a steely stare. “Consider the situation: There is a danger here, but I do not know what that danger encompasses, or what someone like Maric might learn in the pro cess. We have a higher duty, Duncan. The Grey Wardens protect the entire world, not just one small nation.”
He nodded slowly, his heart racing inside his chest. “I … I understand.”
Genevieve smiled compassionately, if sadly. She reached out and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know you can do this. I am counting on you to see it through, if it comes to that.”
He nodded again, uncertain what he should say, if anything.
She let her hand drop. “Go. Get some sleep. Tomorrow we will have more immediate matters to think about, yes?”