Chapter 17

((Sahira))

While I was feeling worlds better after a short rest, and the rejuvenating power of Wynne's tea, I bristled a bit as I drew near the dog kennels. A tall and well muscled human man was berating an elf, rather harshly I thought even if he was there in a servant capacity. I would never understand why the elves here tolerated such repression. The shemlen had painted his face which struck me as odd. Did they paint their faces to honor their Maker god? Some of the dogs in the kennels were painted in a similar fashion. I frowned to see the elven man dart off like his trousers were on fire. Had he no pride at all?

I strolled up to the oddly painted shemlen man with my head held high, meeting his gaze fearlessly. He smirked and snorted at me, rolling his eyes skyward.

"Another elf? Maker's breath, what does Loghain want this time? Are you here to relay yet another set of scouting instructions, knife ears?"

Knife ears. How many times had I heard that phrase in a single afternoon? My patience was truly wearing thin. I had promised Duncan I would try to adapt as best I could, so I sucked it up and smiled, my gaze never wavering.

"Do you speak to everyone like that shem? Or am I especially blessed this day? I have come with no orders from whomever this Loghain person is, I was merely curious about the paint you and your dogs wear. You do not look like the rest of the King's soldiers."

The shemlen was more than happy to recount the tale of how his order, the Ash Warriors had come to be. Something about a warrior fighting style taught by the dur'genlen and then passed to the Klayne tribes. I had to bite my tongue as this man was obviously not aware that the Dalish had massacred the Klayne, in fact I was descended from the clan of elves that marshaled that ambush. His demeanor had grown a bit less gruff as he further explained that his group and their dogs were painted in kaddis. He was happy to tell me how it was made and even handed me a small pouch of the powered clay-like substance. I had an idea for the kaddis. I thanked him for sharing his knowledge and went to further investigate the pens.

"Uh, miss? You are the new Grey Warden yes? Do you think you could give me a hand here?"

I glanced over my shoulder to see an Ash Warrior beckon to me. At least he had not called me "knife ears" or "elf". He had the look of a man who had not slept in a week, dark bags circling his eyes. Several small harnesses were draped over his shoulder, certainly far too small for the dogs in his charge to use in a pulling capacity.

"My name is Sahira, what can I do for you?"

"Well met lass. I am Roland, the kennel master here. This hound is deathly ill and I was wondering if you might muzzle him for me so I can treat him. It would be a crying shame to put down such a promising member of the breed."

"I would be happy to help but surely there is no need to harness his jaws. He is a mabari yes? If he is as intelligent as the Ash Warrior leader says he will need no such thing. What is making him so ill?"

"Darkspawn blood. Poor fellow swallowed a bellyful in the last skirmish when his owner died. You may have no need of a muzzle for him, but I have no desire to be bitten."

"Ah, I understand. I would be happy to help, just give me a moment."

Of course the shem could not treat the dog without a muzzle, humans did not communicate with beasts as elves did. Perhaps if I had the time later I could teach this man to treat the dogs without using such cruel contraptions. I shoved the muzzle into my belt and opened the latch to the dog's pen. Crouching down in the soiled straw I was met by the saddest pair of brown eyes I had ever seen. This beast had all but given up hope of living and pined for his lost master. His gaze seemed to beg for death as I extended my hand to let the mabari catch my scent.

"It's alright dog, you are not going to die. Will you let me help?"

I whispered in soothing tones as I had often done with the halla and the wolf that was so often my hunting companion. The stricken animal allowed me to approach closer until I was sitting cross legged in the reeking wet straw. If this animal was to live he needed out of the stench and disease harbored here. The mabari placed his head atop my wool covered thigh and my hands cupped his massive head on either side, calming the beast.

"That's it, just be calm and still. I know you are very sad and the blood from the monsters hurt. Will you trust me to place the leather around your mouth? It won't be comfortable but the human is afraid of your teeth. He has the medicine to make the pain go away and make you well."

I heard a sharp intake of breath and a murmur of "Maker's breath!" behind me and "Is she really talking to a dog like a person?" I continued to soothe the mabari as I looked back over my shoulder to hush the kennel master and whoever had joined him to watch. Silly shems. Always they think they are superior to everything else. I would wager this sick hound was twice as intelligent as most of the humans I had met here so far. The dog whined plaintively but did not resist as I slipped the muzzle about his jaws. Poor thing, he was grievously injured, I hoped the human could truly help him. Before I rose to step out of the pen I murmured quietly into the dog's ear.

"When I get the chance I am busting you out of this stinking jail lethellan. You need fresh air to heal."

I noted a weak wriggle to the animal's short, stubby tail and smiled as I brushed straw from my leggings and exited the pen.

"What are you staring at? Gah! Nevermind. His straw needs changing and I suggest getting him out in the fresh air immediately after you treat him. Why do you imprison those who fight beside you anyway?"

"Thank you my lady, I was quite entranced to watch the way you handled the dog with such ease. I have never seen anything like it. Now I can treat the poor fellow properly."

I sighed deeply and waved my hand dismissively. There was no need for thanks, I was more than happy to ease the pain of a selfless warrior. Pity these shemlen did not view their dogs as such.

"How long until there is an improvement? If you do not mind, I would check on him myself."

Roland was preparing a medicinal drought for the dog to swallow, the weight of the world seemingly on his shoulders.

"Sahira, I am not sure. I am the only one to care for all these hounds. I am just one man doing his best. I happen to agree lass, all these dogs need the fresh air, yet the King appoints me no help. Have you the time, I would learn how you were able to calm the dog without using a muzzle."

"Sahira? Ah yes, the third recruit. Well, well, you certainly are not what was expected."

I jerked my head around to see who had spoken in such a cocksure voice. Amused blue eyes met my gaze and I pulled my hands to fist to my hips. My patience for shemlen bullshit was wearing ever thinner.

"Yes I am Sahira, and what the hell is that suppose to mean?"

"Me and Ser Knight just wagered that the third recruit would not be a woman nor a wild forest elf. Is it true what they say?"

My right hand snapped out to catch the man's wrist as he attempted to relieve me of a pouch at my waist, not that he would know what to do with the herbs he attempted to steal. I glared as I tilted my flushed face up to meet his gaze with enraged eyes, my fingers tightening around his wrist, the tips pressing into painful pressure points until he winced in pain.

"And what do "they" say shem? That we "wild" elves take our sport making leather out of your sorry hides? Or that we have eyes in the back of our heads?"

Roland started laughing, slapping his thigh as he watched the other man squirm in my vice grip.

"Okay, alright I give up! Is that better? Never mind what they say, I have no desire to incur your wrath further my lady. Maker's breath you have strong fingers. Before I lose all feeling in my arm let me start again. My name is Daveth, I too am one of Duncan's recruits. You don't really make leather out of men do you?"

Daveth stammered a bit and I gave his wrist a final twist while smiling sweetly into his eyes, just enough to hurt but not truly injure him. I noted that he too was an archer, and he would need his wrists and fingers. I closed the distance between us as his eyes grew all the wider, using his fear to my advantage. I dropped my voice to a low, husky whisper as I bumped noses with the man, a solitary finger slowly tracing along his right cheek as my free hand deftly unraveled a knot at his belt.

"That's much better, Daveth. Now how about you forget all the silly tales you have heard of "wild forest elves" and we speak of things far more constructive, seeing you have been here longer than I have. A dashing rogue such as yourself must know plenty, yes?"

Daveth hastily licked his lips to moisten them and nodded vigorously as he took a step back. I had to bite back the laugh that rose in my throat as I smelled his arousal, watching the lust burn within his pale blue eyes. These shemlen men were far too predictable. He was easy on the eye, I would give him that, but far too cocky for his own good.

"Yes of course my lady..."

"Sahira. I am no lady of one of your noble courts. I am a hunter, like you. No different. I will be treated as such."

Daveth blushed, lending a reddish hue to his cheeks. He nodded to me while not entirely able to meet my eyes. It was just as well.

"Sahira then. I was sneaking around the Grey Warden camp last night and heard we might be venturing into the Wilds sometime soon. Something to do with that ritual Duncan has planned. I don't know exactly what, but it's all too secretive I say. Makes my nose twitch. I grew up just outside the Wilds you see, raised on the stories of barbarians, cannibals, witches.."

I had to laugh. The forest was always a dangerous place but I had never heard of cannibals save the darkspawn that plagued my own neck of the woods. I was just as much a barbarian to these shemlen as any other tribe of people determined to live away from the monarchy. As for witches I had heard one legend, often spoken more to frighten children yet there may be some truth to it.

"You are going into the Wilds then? There is a flower I could use, it's white with a blood red center. It grows near stagnant pools of water and dead fall. I could heal our four legged friend and maybe see if he could be imprinted on you, lass."

I turned to Roland and smiled gently.

"Tell you what, I procure these pale blooms for you, and you allow me some time to let that poor dog breathe the fresh air. I know something of imprinting. I will see if I can get you some help with the hounds. As for you Daveth..."

The rogue's full attention was captured as I dangled his coin purse in front of his hawkish nose.

"I'll watch your back if you'll watch mine."

Daveth grinned, taking the pouch with a dramatic bow. He was sure he had just fallen in love.

((Sahira))

Cailan had mentioned wanting to know more about the Dalish, and I thought on the kenneled dogs as I approached his tent. Surely this king would have a few extra bodies not involved in the coming battle, that would be able to assist Roland in some capacity. I was informed by a rather pleasant man that the king was drinking in the main Warden camp. As someone so close to the King I thought it odd that he was so free with personal information about his marital strife. He was however, agreeable to leave a message for Cailan that I wished to speak with him. Since I was in the vicinity, I spent some time speaking with the General's guard, who was not at all as pleasant as the King's. After being admonished for not holding the knowledge of this man's great deeds in the war against Orlais, he finally agreed to allow me a brief audience. These shemlen seem to forget that my people did not particularly care about their wars or anything else of their strange culture. We concerned ourselves with where they set up their villages and cities and how best to avoid them at all costs.

The man who drew back the colorful tent flaps was of an imposing height, his pock marked and battle scarred armor was impressive and meticulously polished. The dark circles that rimmed his gray eyes were deep, as if he had not slept in years. He was not rude as I had expected from Duncan's brief warning, but precise and to the point as we chatted about the coming battle. Something haunted his eyes as he spoke of his son in law, and I could only hope to imagine what sort of weight of expectation burdened his shoulders. Loghain was a far cry more practical about warfare than the King, and I left with the feeling this man was most capable of directing this army to victory.

I grit my teeth against the catcalls and slanderous comments tossed my way as I crossed the camp, drawing a long cool swig of sun tea. I still needed to find the quarter master and hoped I could replenish my supply of arrows. My skin was beginning to itch beneath the woolen leggings and I began to miss my leathers something fierce.

"You there. Elf! Where's my damn armor and why are you dressed so preposterously? If I don't get that armor immediately I will welt your sorry arse with my whip. You hear me you knife eared whore?"

Time stood still as I froze in place and turned my head to see who had dared to speak in such a manner. At first I had not thought the cruel words were directed at me. Seeing no other elves about, and catching an indignant glare from the fat shem, I knew without a doubt he was speaking to me. Rage coursed through my veins like wildfire and I was no longer thinking clearly. No, I was not thinking at all. I was nothing but the hastened blur of movement to leap behind his engorged carcass of a body, my dagger a whispered hiss as it traveled from it's sheath at my hip, to his quivering thick neck. The long curved blade glinted in the afternoon sunlight as I trailed it's razor sharp edge just deep enough to leave a bloody and painful line beneath his now quivering chin. The scent of his tears was sweet to my senses , my violent, feral growl assaulting his ear.

"Knife eared whore is it? Perhaps I should take my blade and carve your ears to look like mine. Would you like that? Maybe let the other elves have a go at you with that whip?"

"Unhand that man immediately elf! Right now I say!"

I flicked my glance upwards but it was too late, a balding, barrel chested male shemlen charged into me, grabbing me viciously by the hair with his attempt to free me from the other man, who now distinctly smelled of urine. One strong arm wrapped around me to pin my arms to my sides, my dagger clattering to the stones below.

"Get off me you son of a..."

"Jory, what the hell are you doing? Let her go!"

"She is trying to kill the quartermaster, Alistair! Damned elf should be strung up!"

I desperately kicked at the oaf who was holding me and howled a string of Dalish curses that would make a demon blush. Unfortunately the man was simply too big and his bulk was working against me.

"That damned elf is the third recruit you idiot! Now let her go and we can all calm down and discuss this civilly."

Thankfully the "idiot" released me, and I glared at him with all the hate I could muster while rubbing my arms, which were certain to be bruised. The blond shem called Alistair handed me my dagger and I mustered a nod to him as I re-sheathed my weapon at my hip. I was aching and sweating, my skin feeling clammy. Reaching for my skin of sun tea I took a long swallow as I tried to regain my bearings.

"Now what exactly happened?" Alistair asked as he guided me away a few paces.

"That crazy knife eared bitch threatened to carve my ears!" The quartermaster hollered, pointing one chubby finger at me.

"I was not asking you, I was asking her. And she is not a knife eared bitch, she is a Grey Warden recruit and deserves the same respect as anyone else." Alistair rose a pale, golden brow as he glared at the man.

"But, but she's an elf and elves aren't allowed in the army!" Jory chimed in, only to earn himself a withering glare from both myself and Alistair.

"King Cailan and General Loghain certainly didn't seem to have an issue with my ears when I spoke to them, why the hell should you? Did you win some sort of raffle to join the Wardens? It wasn't your bright wit that got you in, that is for sure." I snapped back at Jory, the muscles through my body tensing, readying for a fight. This time I would not let the tall bastard pin me.

"I happen to be a knight! In the proud service of Redcliffe..." Jory indignantly yelled back.

"ENOUGH! By the Maker, if the darkspawn died from migraines, you two would be best on the front lines. Now, back to what I was originally asking. What happened?" Alistair threw his hands in the air at first, completely exasperated. His voice took a gentler tone as he turned back to me.

"I came here to look for supplies and gear at the suggestion of Duncan. That man called me a knife eared whore and threatened to beat me with a whip if I did not fetch his armor. I know I am supposed to play nice with all you humans, keep the peace and all but I will not tolerate being treated worse than you treat your dogs. Do not even get me started on that! I have had more than a bellyful of being called names because I am not human. I snapped. But I will not say I am sorry for my actions."

I did not mention that I would slit that fat bastard's throat in a minute should the situation arise again. I would. I am Dalish and we do not submit. My jaw clenched and I lifted my chin proudly. I might very well be strung up by the neck when all of this was over, but I would never compromise my values and who I am. Alistair glared at both Jory and the wide eyed quartermaster.

"Apologize, the both of you. Now!"

Jory and the quartermaster both stammered through rather weak apologies in my opinion. I would have preferred them both on their knees kissing my boots but I supposed the huge stain in the front of the quartermaster's trousers was justice enough for now. I nodded curtly and turned back to Alistair, offering him a small smile of thanks.

"Now, show her your wares, and I mean all of them."

I perused what the man had as far as armor and weapons, not particularly impressed. Even his herbal recipes were something a Dalish elf learned by age six. Jory had stormed off back in the direction of Duncan's campfire and I felt a bit of relief. What an uppity and ignorant man, even for a shemlen. It had to be a raffle, I could not see Duncan actually recruiting such an idiot.

"I need nothing, thank you."

I turned away from the pale quartermaster, his wares so far inferior to what I was accustomed to. I did suggest a rather garish horned helm for Jory to protect his head, since he saw no need to put it to any good use.

"Do you wish to say anything else to the quartermaster?" Alistair queried softly, probably hoping for an apology.

"Yes, I do at that. The front of your pants are soiled."