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On the second day after Davrin arrived at the Lighthouse, he asked the question Rook had been dreading.
“So,” Davrin said, eyes focused on his carving. “I don’t remember hearing of a Warden Rook before.”
Rook crossed his arms. He’d been braced for this that first day, as the Caretaker rowed them through the Crossroads to the Lighthouse. At that time, Davrin had maybe been too distracted by the spectacle of the Crossroads to ask, and then they’d arrived to the crisis of the double dragon attacks.
That had only been the day before yesterday. Most of them, Rook included, had spent yesterday regrouping, sore and grim over the damage to both cities. Davrin had taken the day to get himself and Assan settled. Davrin’s quarters already looked tidy but lived-in, more than Rook’s own, to tell the truth. A fireplace, a comfortable chair, lots of space for Assan, and an assortment of wood and tools: Davrin had set everything up nicely.
The question actually came right on schedule, Rook supposed, though he still didn’t relish the need to answer it.
“Rook’s new,” he said. “I started using it after I joined Varric and Harding. My original name is Thorne.” The nickname has startled him at first, but he’d quickly come to welcome the change.
Davrin looked up, a glint in his eye. “Oh,” he said, drawing out the vowel. “You’re Warden Thorne. Now that name, I have heard.”
Rook tried to keep his expression neutral. Wasn’t sure he succeeded. “And what have you heard?”
Rook knew Davrin somewhat by reputation – a reliable man, a skilled tracker and hunter, knowledgeable about even the oddest of monsters. They’d never worked together, though. It was a little surprising that their paths hadn’t crossed before, but Weisshaupt was a big place, and both of them spent a good deal of their time elsewhere.
But if Rook knew Davrin’s reputation, Davrin undoubtedly knew something about Thorne. What he knew very much depended on who he’d been talking to.
Davrin sat back in his chair, setting aside the piece of wood he’d been working on. “I’ve heard reckless,” he said.
Rook’s jaw tightened. “A matter of opinion.”
“Headstrong,” Davrin continued. “Insubordinate, defies orders…”
“That’s just another way of saying insubordinate,” Rook pointed out.
“Also, good in a crisis,” Davrin finished. He raised his eyebrows slightly, challenging, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
Rook exhaled, trying to regain some equilibrium. Davrin was needling him on purpose, and Rook was letting it get under his skin. Couldn’t entirely help it, in truth, but being prickly about his reputation wasn’t going to get them anywhere when he needed Davrin on his side. “I guess you heard that from Evka,” he offered.
“Not just from Evka,” Davrin said. He was the picture of ease, relaxed into his chair, and his smile widened. Rook felt the opposite of at ease. “Don’t think you’ve got just the one friend in the Wardens, Rook.”
Rook shook out his shoulders, trying to shed some tension. “Well, I was hoping, anyway,” he said, keeping his tone light.
Davrin chuckled. “You know, I came back to Weisshaupt not long after that escapade you had with the village. Everyone was talking about it. I talked to some of the recruits, the junior Wardens who’d been there. Most of them would follow you to the darkest pit of the Deep Roads.”
“They fought hard and kept their heads,” Rook said, remembering. They’d managed to collapse the tunnels and get themselves out, with some injuries, but no deaths. After weeks of uncertainty and fear, of the darkspawn picking off Wardens and civilians alike, the village had erupted into celebration. It had been a really good day, until the reinforcements finally showed up, under a senior commander who had been not at all amused by Thorne’s success.
“I’ll bet,” Davrin said. “There was plenty of discussion over the dinner table, I can tell you that. Those young Wardens with stars in their eyes, and seniors trying to drag them down to earth, keep them from haring off and trying the same tactics somewhere else. You knew it was risky.”
“I knew we couldn’t hold out forever and I had no word on when the promised reinforcements were coming,” Rook countered. “It was a risk, sure, but I knew we’d take losses standing pat. That was a known risk. I chose the uncertain one.”
Davrin nodded. “Not arguing. I wasn’t there, it wasn’t my call.”
“I thought we could do it,” Rook said. “The recruits were young, but I’d had time to train with them and I knew what they could do. Plus, I knew I could count on Evka and Antoine. And Antoine’s devices.”
Davrin snorted. “Speaking of people the commanders don’t entirely trust.”
Rook shrugged. “Antoine’s always come through.” Antoine possessed endless curiosity, equally endless good cheer, and a willingness to try something new. The Wardens could do with more of all three, in Rook’s opinion.
Davrin dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Anyway, I did hear plenty about Warden Thorne. Or, ‘more like Warden Thorne-in-my-side.’” He grinned at that one.
Rook grimaced. “Oh. You talked to Krantz.”
“Listened to him, more like. Warden-Commander Krantz is an esteemed veteran, though,” Davrin said, raising an eyebrow.
Esteemed by all the other commanders who were just like him, at least. “Warden-Commander Krantz is officious, pompous, and loves the sound of his own voice,” said Rook evenly. “Also, he likes hazing recruits on their first Deep Roads patrols.”
Davrin raised his eyebrows. “Mm. Hadn’t heard that.”
“Krantz and his cronies don’t make it easy to talk about.” Everyone knew that the Grey Wardens accepted anyone. Criminals, apostates, elves, exiles, you name it. What most people didn’t know was that many of the highest-ranking Wardens came from the same Anderfels noble families, generation after generation. The criminals and exiles and apostates would never get promoted that high, not at Weisshaupt. He wouldn’t call it corruption, exactly, but promotion in the Wardens depended a lot on who you knew, and the upper echelons protected their own.
Davrin’s lips tightened as he nodded. Rook guessed that Davrin had seen the same patterns that Rook had. “And you saw that, on your first Deep Roads patrol with him?”
“No,” Rook said. “My first patrol was with Commander Markos. So I knew how things could be, and Krantz didn’t like that I wouldn’t go along with posting new recruits on twenty-hour watch cycles or sending them into the middle of deepstalker nests on purpose.”
“Markos was a good man,” Davrin said, his face softening. “A good Warden.”
“Yeah,” Rook said with a sigh. Commander Markos had gone to his Calling less than a year after that first patrol. “I got lucky, being assigned to his patrol. But recruits shouldn’t have to get lucky. Discipline is one thing, there’s nothing wrong with that. I needed to get pulled in as a recruit, and I’m not the only one. But some of the things they call discipline are just pointless cruelty. I don’t stand by and let it go.”
Davrin nodded slowly. “So, insubordination, then.”
Rook shrugged. “If I have to.” Some orders were bad orders. He’d learned that protesting and filing complaints up the chain of command didn’t often accomplish much. He said his piece and shielded recruits from the worst of it when he could, and took the punishment if he had to.
“And now you’re giving the orders,” Davrin said.
“That going to be a problem?” Rook asked, ready to be done with this interrogation. “I figure you’re bringing all this up for a reason.”
Davrin took a second to answer, his eyes narrowing in thought. “Just putting together what I’ve heard with what I see.”
Rook said nothing, waiting to see if Davrin was going anywhere with this. After a moment, Davrin added, “Hunting’s the same way. Sometimes you hear stories, and the real thing isn’t much like the stories. Most of the time they’re only part of the picture.”
“I’m not imposing Warden discipline here,” Rook said. Briefly, he tried to imagine the dourest Warden-Commander attempting to rope Lucanis or Bellara into Warden schedules and training regimens, and gave up almost immediately. “I’m just trying to get the job done. But if taking orders from me is going to be an issue…”
Davrin straightened up, his smile coming back. “Rook, you know those recruits I mentioned, who’d follow Warden Thorne to the end of the Deep Roads?”
“Sure,” Rook said warily.
“They’d do that because they’re confident you’d lead them back out again,” Davrin said.
Rook blinked at that, startled. He could remember names and faces from that day, people who’d trusted his plan and followed his lead and done probably the most terrifying thing any of them had done – aside from taking the Joining itself – but he hadn’t had contact with any of them since he’d left with Varric. “Huh. I mean… I try.”
“I suppose that takes us back to reckless, but I haven’t seen anything I can’t live with.” Davrin shook his head, still smiling. “If I do have a problem, you’ll be the first to know.”
“All right. Good to know.” Rook didn’t exactly need Davrin’s approval, but something in him eased to have it, anyway. It was good to have another Warden at his back, especially with the blight growing stranger and stronger.
“And for what it’s worth, I think you made the right call on Treviso.” Davrin picked up his whittling.
On the verge of relaxing, Rook tensed up again. Somehow he hadn’t expected Davrin to mention the dragon attacks, even though they were fresh in everyone’s minds. He flinched, remembering the freezing edge of the dragon’s breath in Treviso, and the stench of ash and blight in Minrathous, and the bite of Neve’s anger. “I… know everyone doesn’t feel the same.”
“I saw Minrathous, and it was bad.” Davrin turned the half-finished carving around in his hands. “But I’ve also seen Treviso. Those canals and blight would be a bad combination. I think our duty was clear.”
“We swore an oath,” Rook said softly. “I couldn’t see leaving Treviso.” He’d been running it around in his mind ever since, through two nights of broken sleep, but he kept coming up with the same answer.
Davrin nodded, eyes still on his carving. “Wish we’d been able to do more in Minrathous, but…” His shoulders rose and fell. “Not much we could do then.”
“We’ll find ourselves this dragon hunter, and we’ll be better prepared next time,” Rook said. He kept telling himself this, every time he thought about the Viper blighted or Minrathous burning or the disappointment in Neve’s eyes.
“Looking forward to it,” Davrin said. He glanced up at Rook with a quick, fierce grin. “Nothing like a good hunt.”
“Here’s hoping.”
Leaving Davrin’s quarters, Rook stopped to greet Assan and scratch under his chin. While the griffon stretched out his neck and squeezed his eyes shut in bliss, Rook looked across to Neve’s quarters until two days ago. A dozen or more wisps still drifted around the building, passing through the walls and windows as if they were nothing. “She’ll be all right,” he murmured to himself, and then shook his head. The city was in turmoil, their best allies there were on the defensive, and there was all too little that he could do there as an outsider. Right now, the Shadow Dragons wouldn’t welcome his help. And Neve, too clearly, wouldn’t welcome it either.
“She’ll be all right, and she’ll come back,” he said under his breath, trying to convince himself. “It’s only been two days.” Selfish, maybe, to pin his fears and hopes on one person’s fate, when a whole city was struggling, but he couldn’t help it. Neve had quickly become important to him. As a friend, as an ally, as a strategist. She mattered, and he hated that he’d let her down, even though Davrin was right: his duty as a Warden had been clear.
He wanted her to be safe. Selfishly, he wanted her companionship. More than that, the team needed her: her intelligence, her gift for analyzing a situation. She saw things none of the rest of them did, she had connections nobody else on the team could reach. Everything they were trying to do would be harder without her.
Assan made an inquiring chirp and nudged Rook’s hand. He’d been so lost in thought that he was neglecting his plain obligation to the griffon. “Sorry, boy,” he said, and resumed scratching.
She’d be back. If nothing else, she didn’t leave a job unfinished. He thought he knew her well enough to say that.
In the meantime, the Lighthouse felt emptier.