"Well," Ser Raine remarked as he kicked dirt over the ashes of the fire. "That's the last night we'll spend on the road, Maker willing. We'll be at Krisholm Circle by tonight."

Emmit glared at him from the ground where he was sitting. Raine had found some decent clothing for him to wear at the last village, because his original shirt had been filthy with blood and worse things. His blond plait was half undone, and probably had a leaf stuck in it, but he couldn't pull it out and redo it like he wanted to because his hands were tied in front of him.

"Really? Still with the silent treatment?" Raine clucked disapprovingly. "It's been four days, Emmit, you have to speak eventually."

"No, I don't," Emmit said. He watched the templar sullenly as he finished saddling up his horse and resettling all of his packs. Raine's armour was scorched and battered, and his face crusted with dark stubble, but his sword was sharp. More importantly to Emmit, he still had a vial of lyrium tucked away on his person somewhere, so he wasn't going to be running out today.

Raine looked down at him, and a serious expression crossed his face. "Actually, fellow-me-lad, you rather do. Like I said, we'll be at the Circle before tonight, and we need to talk about some things before we get there." He settled onto his haunches in front of Emmit, and raised his eyebrows. "Can you be civil for ten minutes for that?"

"No," Emmit said. "I still can't believe you're doing this. You absolute asshole. I saved your life."

"I know you did," Raine said calmly. "I was there."

"And you're still dragging me to the Maker-damned Circle!" Emmit struggled against his bonds in a moment of impotent fury. "How could you? You bastard. You only got the drop on me because I was out cold."

"You think you would've got away in a fair fight?"

"Yes!"

The horse flicked its ears back, annoyed by his raised voice. It sidestepped away a little and shook its head with a jingle of tack.

Raine shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Luckily the question didn't arise."

"You son of a bitch. You couldn't bend the rules just this once? Maybe just say to yourself, hey, that mage is unconscious because he just held a horde of demons back from roasting me in my armour -"

"Emmit –"

"Maybe I'll have the common decency to let him wake up, and refrain from tying him up like a chicken and throwing him on a horse!"

"This thing is not for show, you know," Raine said lightly. He gestured at his chest, where the sunburst pattern was still visible under scorchmarks. "I did what I could."

"You could have let me go!"

"No, I couldn't," Raine said. "You want me to bend the rules for you? I already have. By rights I should have put a sword in your chest as soon as I met you."

Emmit huffed out a breath. He resented it a little – hey, I could have murdered you out of hand and I didn't, aren't I magnanimous – but he was grateful for that. Honestly, before this week, if someone had told Emmit he would be having even a semi-reasonable conversation with a templar he would have laughed.

"I know. I appreciate it," he said grudgingly. "That's why I helped you. But I was kind of expecting that, you know, since I did that, you could have made an exception. Even just a head start? Even templars are human."

Raine looked pensive. "You're right, Emmit, we are. I've met corrupt templars before. Men and women who make exceptions, do favours for friends. You can find people who'll look the other way for just about anything as long as you toss them enough lyrium." Raine's mouth thinned to a line. "If I let you go then I might as well be one of them. So no. No, I cannot make an exception to the rules for the man who saved my life. I'm bending them as far as I dare, though, so do you want to listen to my advice?"

Emmit let his head fall back to look up at the sky for a long moment. He was out of attractive options, and the Circle seemed like an inevitability at this point.

All those years , hiding and being cautious and coming up with plausible excuses. All that careful experimentation and practice. All over, now.

Who's going to defend everybody on the road now? he wondered desolately. They need me. Don't they know they need me? Doesn't Ben know they need me? They'll be sorry I'm not there next time they try to take the route through the Badlands.

"Raine, are the other templars just going to kill me when we get there?"

Raine sighed. He stood up, his armour scraping and ringing. "Maybe," he said. Emmit appreciated that he didn't lie. "I'll try and convince them not to. The trouble is that you're a hedge mage."

Emmit craned his neck back to look up at him. "What's that?"

"You've never been taught magic properly. So there's a chance that you… can't be taught anymore. You're too old, too set in your ways, your mind can't learn to work like it needs to." Raine spread his hands. "I don't actually know if that's you or not. Usually we have no choice but to kill adult apostates who haven't had any proper training. Most people would say that I shouldn't be taking you to the Circle at all, that I should have killed you as soon as it became clear you weren't trained."

"I did have that book," Emmit offered. "Is that enough?"

"I don't know," Raine said. "All I can do is take you there so we can see if you're capable of being taught. So. Are you going to let me help you? Or are you going to pout the rest of the way to the Circle and then throw a tantrum at my esteemed brother templars?" He folded his arms, looked down at Emmit with raised eyebrows.

Emmit didn't answer for a few moments.

"That's not a rhetorical question, by the way," Raine said. "You're completely at liberty to choose the tantrum. I'll be sad, because I like you, but it won't be my fault."

Emmit's shoulders slumped. "Okay."

"Okay? Okay what?"

"Okay! I'll be civil! I'll listen to your advice." He clenched his fists in his lap. "Whatever it takes for them to not kill me."

Raine gave him a lopsided grin. "Smart boy." He took out his knife, made a 'give' motion with his fingers until Emmit raised his bound wrists. "You going to behave?"

Emmit nodded. Raine cut his hands free.

"So here's what we're going to do," Raine said, helping him stand. "I'll talk to the Knight-Captain for you. I'll tell him about the abominations we fought, that you've been using your magic for noble purposes – which you have – and that you didn't hesitate to step in when my life was in danger. And, here is the important bit, I tell him you cooperated fully with me. Obviously that's only going to work if you aren't hissing and spitting at everyone like a feral cat."

"I'll try to restrain myself," Emmit muttered, stretching and rolling his shoulders.

"You're young, you're what, sixteen?"

"Seventeen. Almost eighteen." Despite all the more important things going on, Emmit was annoyed. He didn't look that young. Being short was irritating sometimes. He began to comb his hair out with his fingers, more for something to do than anything else.

Raine flicked his fingers impatiently. "Tell them you're sixteen. It's not common but there are apprentices who enter the Circle that old."

He went to his horse, soothed it with a few murmured words and a gentle hand on its neck. He mounted with practiced grace despite the armour.

"So, basically, step one: lie like rugs to the templars," Emmit said.

"Naturally," Raine said, with another grin. "We both have plenty of practice so we should be fine. Up you get."

Emmit regarded his offered hand with distaste.

Still time to blast him and run. He untied your hands, more fool him. You're not that tired, you could take one man and a horse.

But, for one thing, this wasn't a man, it was a templar. Raine negated just about all Emmit's advantages and reduced him with a blow to a slightly built young man with no weapons and no armour.

For another thing… Emmit could count the number of actual human beings he'd killed on the fingers of one hand. And Raine was… not as bad a person as he easily could have been.

With considerably more difficulty and some swearing, Raine pulled Emmit up behind him.

Reece was in the chapel of the Krisholm Circle of Magi. There was no service happening at the moment; the small hall was hushed, the darkness and emptiness pressed comfortingly against him like a cool cloth. The light from the Eternal Flame gleamed gold from the statues and icons, and was swallowed up in the velvety red darkness of hangings and corners.

He lit his candle with a surreptitious flick of his fingers. He probably shouldn't do that, but there was nobody to see. He hoped the Maker wouldn't mind.

He set it into place at the foot of the statue, fixing it there with a little melted wax, and retreated a few steps. Folding his hands into the sleeves of his robe, he fixed his eyes on the wavering little teardrop of his candle flame. He dug into his memory and found a hymn to murmur under his breath.

What he really wanted was some time alone to think. He didn't know what he was asking the Maker for. Maybe for guidance? Grace? Maybe just understanding.

Things had changed since his Harrowing. Reece wanted to actually do something now, something useful, something other than avoid his peers, read books other people had written and feel sorry for himself. Surely the Maker would approve of that?

He had never been especially interested in studying how magic itself worked. But now, after the Harrowing… he circled the idea carefully, probing at it like an injury, waiting for it to hurt and tell him he'd gone too far.

Of course, there were other options. He was interested in learning more healing. Maybe he could try to get a posting to one of the healing centres outside the Circle?

He didn't really pay attention when someone else entered the chapel. When they walked behind him, he glanced away from the candle to them. It was a templar, one who didn't look very familiar. Perhaps he'd transferred recently. There were a fair few new faces in the Krisholm Circle Templar contingent lately – their own Knight-Captain had only been here a few months.

Reece would have bowed his head again, but to his surprise, the templar paused and approached him.

"Hello," he said, his voice a little hushed. He was tall, fair-haired and freckled, perhaps a few years older than Reece. "It's Reece, isn't it?"

Reece blinked at him, taken aback. Reece was not afraid of templars. To be honest, he almost forgot they were there some of the time – they had been as much a fixture of his classrooms and living areas as the bookshelves or the walls for the past ten years. They were just people. At times he even found their presence comforting.

He reminded himself of this firmly. "Yes," he said. "Yes, it is."

The templar smiled. "Somewhat belated, but congratulations on passing your Harrowing."

"Oh," Reece said, relieved. He'd had many mages and even a few templars say that to him. "Thank you, ser."

"Word in the barracks was that you probably would." The templar looked around. "I've seen you in here before. You come often?"

Reece fiddled with the fraying trim on one of his sleeves. "The chapel is here for mages as well as templars…"

"Oh, sure, but most of you prefer to stay away. Especially these days." The templar shrugged. "Don't let me bother you." He turned away.

Reece sighed and looked back to his candle as the templar made his way to the front of the chapel, presumably to talk to the Sister. Reece didn't think of himself as especially devout.

The face of Andraste shone down at him, solemn and fierce, alive with shivering shadows. Reece smiled up at it sadly, then untucked his hands and padded quietly away.

Knight-Captain Laurent frowned out the window of his office.

"I don't understand what you were doing there on your own in the first place," he said. "Requiring rescue by the apostate mage you're supposed to be hunting."

Raine at least had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "If I'd realised there were that many blood mages hiding up there I would have waited for backup, Knight-Captain. It was my mistake and I take full responsibility." He'd had time to clean up before giving this report, but he still looked scruffy, dark hair disordered, grime under his fingernails. It annoyed Laurent.

You, he thought, are an example of the kind of thing the Knight-Commander transferred me here to deal with.

Laurent disliked the man intensely, but didn't actually have any proof of wrongdoing from him. He was good at the actual business of hunting down apostates, which Laurent was forced to admit was more important at this point than how smartly he turned out. But if Laurent could ever find any evidence of the petty corruption he suspected was hiding behind that smirk, Raine would be in some serious trouble that his family wouldn't be able to get him out of, good at killing mages or not.

Whatever he thought of Raine, he had to admit this wasn't an easy case. "He's had no training at all?" Laurent asked. "Not even from a friend or relative who might have spent time in the Circle?"

"No," Raine said. "He taught himself out of a book. And it's a clean book, too, there's nothing forbidden in it that I could see. All Chantry-approved."

"Hmm," Laurent said noncommittally. Some of Laurent's peers were of the opinion that any mage, left without the guidance of the Chantry and the guardianship of the Templar Order, would unavoidably turn to blood magic and foul rituals. Laurent didn't hold to that view. Still, could a single book really be said to compensate for the lack a Circle education?

"He's half a child, really," Raine said, his gaze sliding away awkwardly. "I think he could be taught, Knight-Captain."

"The question is, does he want to be taught?"

Raine shrugged, a habit that Laurent thought made men look sloppy. "I think so. He wasn't exactly thrilled to see me, but when it came down to it he didn't run, and I think I've impressed on him how much safer it is for him to be here."

Sixteen. Well. All it would take was a writ from Laurent and the boy would be Tranquil and the very definition of safe. He sat down at his desk and drummed his fingers on the table in thought.

He didn't want to risk the lives of the people under his care due to sentimentality. You could kill almost as many people through sentimentality as you could through negligence.

It was a serious thing, to issue a writ for the Rite of Tranquillity, and Laurent didn't ever want to get to the point where it was routine for him. That would surely mean there was something very wrong with the way they were teaching or raising mages, if the Rite of Tranquillity were so often needed it became banal. Laurent believed you needed to give mages a chance to prove they were strong enough.

"Very well," he said abruptly. "He can be admitted to the Circle as an apprentice on a probationary basis. Once the Enchanters in charge of his teaching have assessed him, we will make a final decision as to whether he can be taught or not."

Raine saluted. Was that a hint of relief in his posture? "Very good, Knight-Captain. Will that be all?"

"Not quite," Laurent said. He made eye contact, his expression flat. "My predecessor might have put up with templars on field missions running off alone doing whatever they want, Raine, but I won't. Stay with your intended partner from now on. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, Knight-Captain," Raine said, staring at a point past his left ear.

"Good. Dismissed."

Laurent pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose for a moment once the man had left, sighing. Raine was not the only member of this chapter with poor discipline; Laurent wished he were. A dozen minor disciplinary matters called for his attention, and he knew for a fact there would be a dozen more his subordinates weren't telling him about. People had gotten used to lax standards.

Lax standards killed people. Laurent was not going to have them kill people on his watch.

He had so much paperwork on his desk. When had the job started involving all of this?

He was halfway through the stack when he heard the sound of an argument going on outside his door. He tried to ignore it – that was the point of having an office door, after all, and he wanted this paperwork done so he could get out and about this afternoon.

But it was awfully persistent. Eventually he put his pen down with a sigh.

"C'mon, recruit, Laurent and I are old friends," he heard a familiar voice say. "You'd know this already if you'd been here longer than ten minutes. He'll have time for me."

"If mages wish to speak with the Knight-Captain they can submit a request." The tone was that of somebody with extensive patience who was nevertheless reaching the end of it. "You do not have an appointment to speak with the Knight-Captain today. You may submit a request to me and I will pass it on."

"All right. Please go and tell Knight-Captain Laurent that I'm here and I'd like to talk to him. I'll wait here."

"Not now. You'll get an appointment sometime later in the -"

Laurent jerked the door open and leaned out. "Hester, what are you doing?"

Both the people standing by the door startled and looked around. One was the templar recruit stationed outside his office today, her feet planted firmly and lines of annoyance between her eyebrows.

The other was a compact elven woman with snapping eyes and a bundled-back mass of brown ringlets, a carved wooden staff in her hand.

"Laurent, I need to talk to you," she said immediately.

"I'm sorry, Knight-Captain," the recruit said, glaring at Hester. "I shouldn't have –"

"No, it's fine," Laurent sighed. It wasn't the recruit's fault Hester was stubborn. "Not your fault. Get in here, Hester."

She smiled and stepped inside. "Long time no see. Knight-Captain."

"Hester," he said in exasperation as he closed the door. "You need to go through the proper channels. You can't just show up and expect to see me because you knew me before I was appointed."

"What, I need to make an appointment to talk to my friend?" Hester said, raising an eyebrow.

"If it's about some kind of official matter, which I'm guessing it is because I don't know why else you would be here, then yes. You do." He sat down behind his desk and frowned up at her. "What do you want so urgently to talk to me about?"

"This business with the cancellation of all travel permits, Laurent, it's utterly ridiculous!" Hester leaned her staff against his desk, the better to gesticulate as she paced. "Bad enough you won't approve any new ones, but the longstanding permits! Some of the Enchanters have projects months in the making! And what about the spirit healers assigned to Meike's Crossing?"

Laurent pressed his lips together. "The healers will already be on their way back to the Circle," he said. "There are no immediate plans for their replacement."

She looked at him with incredulous disgust. "What is the town to do until 'plans' eventuate? Maker's breath, Laurent, people travel for days to see those healers! What are you thinking?"

"Meike's Crossing will cope," he said shortly. "As towns without a Circle presence have coped for generations."

"Ridiculous!" she repeated. "How long are they going to be without healers for?"

"I can't say."

"You can't say! Oh, that's just great." She threw her hands up. "What are you people doing up here? Do you look at the world around you at all? We need to -"

"Hester."

She turned to look back at him, her brows drawn down. "Laurent, I –"

"You will address me as Knight-Captain!" he snapped, cutting her off. "What are you doing here?"

She resettled her stance, folding her arms. "If you're Knight-Captain, then I will be Senior Enchanter, thank you," she said coldly.

"Fine. Senior Enchanter. I have no new information or advice for you. The new restrictions came into place yesterday and they will remain in place for the foreseeable future. If your only purpose in coming here was to complain, then you should be ashamed for wasting my time." Laurent resisted the urge to get up and pace as well. He gestured at the door. "Leave, please. I have work to do."

"My purpose in coming here was to find out what's going on! Everybody is confused and angry. Surely the Knight-Commander doesn't think she can do this without…"

"If the mages wish further clarification of the new restrictions, I'm sure the First Enchanter will answer your questions," he snapped. "We have already discussed the matter in detail with her. If they wish to complain about the new restrictions, they may do so to their hearts' content among themselves, but I am not obligated to grant my ear to it." He looked at her across the table. He used to have so much respect for this mage in front of him. Had she changed or had he? "Did your new Libertarian friends think you would have some kind of angle or leverage here? I'm disappointed in you."

"I haven't resigned my Aequitarian membership yet," Hester said. "Although you templars give me enough reasons to. I don't think you realise how -"

"Don't tell me what I do and don't realise," Laurent said. "Senior Enchanter, you cannot just show up at my offices and make a fuss until you get your way. Next time whatever fraternity you belong to now wants to whine in my ear, they can make a formal application like everybody else. Get out of my office."

Hester balled her hands into fists at her sides, her face set. "I'm disappointed in you, Laurent. I always thought you were one of the sensible ones. But here you are tugging your forelock and going along with whatever crack-brained reactionary bullshit coming out of –"

"That's enough." Laurent stood, strode to the door, and opened it. "Kelly!"

The recruit was standing a few paces down the hallway, apparently staring fixedly at the wall and attempting not to eavesdrop. She came to attention. "Knight-Captain, ser!"

"Please see Senior Enchanter Hester to her quarters," he said. "And see to it that she remains there for the next three days."

"You can't do that," Hester said from behind him. "I –"

"I can, and I am," Laurent said, returning to his desk. "You have had multiple opportunities to comply with orders and you have not. If you mages act like children I'll treat you like it. You can collect your staff again when you're let out of your quarters. Kelly, take her out."

"Ser." The recruit collected the staff with one hand, and took hold of the elf's shoulder.

Laurent watched, his jaw set, as Hester eventually allowed herself to be pulled away, glaring daggers. Once the door had swung shut behind them he tried to let the tension out of his shoulders.

He should have known being posted to the same Circle as Hester would cause problems. Few templars could gracefully deal with being on amicable terms with a mage, not these days, and the Knight-Captain probably wasn't one of them. Well, he thought resignedly, I've probably just solved that problem for myself anyway. Hester is not going to forgive what I just did easily.

The trouble with Hester was that the Blight had been over for ten years, and she'd been back in the Circle's care for five years. Hester was bored, and it seemed that now she was meddling in politics to alleviate it. Laurent recalled that when they'd been with the Ferelden army together she had scoffed at fraternities and all that such carrying-on.

Mages. As if Laurent didn't already know the ripples of effect that the new restrictions were going to have. But regardless of what the mages thought, the outside world could and would function without their input and access to it. And probably be better off. Laurent suspected the days of Circle-organised healing centres and visitors to the tower were over for a while.