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Alistair shifted where he stood, trying to ignore the pressure in his bladder as he waited in the long line for the privy. It stretched on as far as he could see in front and behind him. This is ridiculous, he thought. I’ll never make it.
Just when he was about to dart out of line and just make water in an alley, he felt someone’s hands pressing into his back. How rude! He turned his head to see a little old lady behind him, her hands pushing against his shoulder blades. “Hey! Stop it!”
She didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him, and just shoved him again. In spite of her advanced age and small size, she pushed so hard he had to brace his legs to keep from pinwheeling into the person in front of him. What in the Void?
He was just about to whip around and ask just what in Andraste’s armpit was her sodding problem when he awoke with a full-body jerk.
Just a dream. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom Alistair realized that at least a few things from the dream persisted into reality: he still really had to pee and someone was pushing into his back.
He turned to look and saw Dog lying on the bed between him and Isley. His warden was sleeping peacefully, a serene expression on her lovely face, while her giant mabari warhound slept sprawled out next to her on his side—it was his paws Alistair felt pressing into his back.
With a sigh he hauled himself out of bed and made his way to the chamberpot that sat behind a screen in a corner of the bedroom. After doing his business he walked back to the bed, looking down at the sleeping pair in it, and wondered just how he could remove the mabari without risking a hand.
Well, best to try the direct approach first. “Dog,” he whispered, and got no response. He tried again. “Dog… get up. Come on. Move.”
He risked poking one of the hound’s back paws, figuring that was the safest part of the body to touch. It worked at waking him up, but that was about it. Dog simply looked at him, gave out a huff, and closed his eyes again.
Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.
Well… it was a big bed. Certainly bigger than any bed I’ve ever slept in before.Maybe he could just try and wedge himself in on the other side of Isley?
He crept around to the other side of the giant bed, careful not to wake her. There was maybe a foot of space between Isley and the edge… maybe once he lay down, she would shift over to make room for him, and then the stubborn mabari would move?
As soon as his hand pressed against the mattress, however, Isley grimaced in her sleep and let out a cute little whimper. He froze, suddenly apprehensive about waking her—she’d been sleeping so peacefully, and he knew how rare that was for her. Her dreams were so much worse than his own—a lovely side benefit of Joining during the Blight. He’d learned to block them out somewhat, but Isley was still struggling.
With another deep sigh, he walked back to the other side of the bed and stared down at it for a few moments in silent contemplation. Remembering the way Dog had been tearing around the castle earlier that day chasing cats gave him an idea.
He walked over to the farthest corner of the room and half hid himself behind the side of the fireplace. Clearing his throat, he made a soft meowing noise.
Too quiet. Dog didn’t even twitch. He tried again, louder this time, and was rewarded with Dog’s head lifting off the bed and looking toward the corner of the room where Alistair stood. He ducked behind the fireplace, grinning to himself that the plan seemed to be working, before letting out the loudestmeow yet.
That did it. He heard Dog give a huffy almost-bark and then the clacking of dog paws against stone revealed that the mabari had leapt off the bed to race over to where Alistair hid.
While Dog was distracted with his nose to the ground, sniffing for the mysterious kitty, Alistair made a break for it. He was just about back to the bed—a few more feet and he could dive onto it—but Dog saw him and was much, much faster. He sprinted past Alistair and leapt on the bed, plopping himself next to Isley and then looking up at Alistair with what he would later swear was an intensely smug grin.
Alistair gaped at him. “You little bastard. Yes, I know. Pot, kettle and all that but really… this is just rude.”
Isley made another mumbling noise and the fear of waking her took all the fight out of Alistair. With a quiet grumble he snatched a pillow off the bed and then stomped over to where an overstuffed sofa sat. Plopping himself down on it, he tried to get comfortable and fall back asleep.
Tomorrow he’d visit the Redcliffe kitchens for some sausages… and maybe a cage trap? We’ll see who is smarter then, you mangy mutt, he thought to himself, stubbornly ignoring the answering snicker in his mind that sounded suspiciously like Morrigan’s mocking laughter.
I am too smarter than a mabari, dammit, he told himself as he at last drifted off to sleep. Tomorrow night he would prove it.
Hopefully.