Though every day had started with the tolling of the bell for the Prime Chant since she had been brought to the Circle, Gwyneth Surana still rolled over and groaned into her pillow when it jolted her awake. She just knew that whomever had placed the bell in Kinloch Hold had looked for just the right place for it to ring everyone in the Apprentice's Quarters awake. Thank the Maker mages weren't required to attend Matins and Lauds with the Chantry sisters. Jowan, the heaviest sleeper, was muttering as his bunk bed creaked, signaling that he was getting up and preparing himself to shuffle to the Chantry. Today, though, there was one thing out of place. Solona Amell wasn't leaning over from her bunk to make some dreadfully chipper and snarky remark.
Gwyn sat up, stomach twisting in fear. If Solona wasn't there, it meant that she had been woken in the middle of the night to be taken to her Harrowing. Not surprising, really. With Anders escaping constantly and getting locked up in solitary for longer and longer stretches, and Wynne and the other Spirit Healers being called away to attend the King's Army, Solona's skills in Spirit Healing were in demand and necessary for keeping the Circle Chantry's coffers full. At least twice a week before the other Healers had been called away, one would be rowed across Lake Calenhad to the docks to meet with someone of wealth or power to heal.
Pulling on her apprentice's robes and sliding on her slippers, Gwyn shuffled to the Chantry with the others under the watchful eyes of the Templars. She strained to see around Jowan when she saw the Harrowed mages that remained in the tower were already seated, and breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted Sol's chestnut head already bowed in prayer next to Anders's, or more likely working on knitting another scarf or set of socks for him. The solitary cells were chilly on good days, and with winter fast approaching, it was almost certain he would need something warm when he inevitably escaped and got caught again.
As with many days, Gwyn and Jowan found themselves stuck behind Keili, who prayed the Chant loudly and nearly knocked First Enchanter Irving over in her haste to get to the confessional first. Maker knew what sins she had to confess to besides being a mage, which was what often rang out of the confessional while she was wailing at high volume. The Revered Mother waiting outside the confessional looked pleased and pained at the same time. The Mothers didn't want their charges to forget their cursed state and to repent for it, but sometimes Gwyn wondered if they were taken aback by the zeal with which Keili hated herself.
The mages not waiting for confession were herded to breakfast by more Templars, not gently in some cases. Poor Finn was shoved flat on his face after taking too long walking through the door. An hourglass that measured fifteen minutes was turned by Ser Bran, all the time they had to gulp down their bowls of porridge and two small rashers of bacon before rushing back to the Chantry for Terce. It was abbreviated since Prime was so long, and by the end Gwyn's stomach was roiling from having to shove breakfast down so quickly. The nausea thankfully passed as she was hurried off to glyph casting with a few other apprentices.
Irving had proudly declared her proficient weeks ago, so she was allowed to spend most of the time reading books on casting theory while the others practiced. She scratched down some notes after coming across a blurb in one of Brother Genitivi's books saying that some Dalish mages could draw glyphs and runes with their toes. Useful if one's hands were bound after being captured. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Gwyn's eyes flicked to the Templars at the sides of the room. Though they all wore their helms while the mages practiced, she could still feel their eyes watching everything. She had to suppress a shudder. Again the bell tolled and mages streamed from all over the tower back to the Chantry for Sext.
In the press of bodies in one of the doorways, Gwyn felt a metal-encased hand grab her buttocks and squeeze hard, pinching, intending to hurt. She flinched and hunched her shoulders, worming her way between two other robed bodies to get out of reach of whichever Templar it had been. There was no telling who it was in the press. She grabbed Solona and whispered desperately, "Don't leave me alone today."
Concern filled Sol's grey-green eyes and she fluttered her fingers then patted the skirt of her robe, the signs Kinloch mages used to indicate the flames of the Templar heraldry and their armored skirts. Gwyn nodded and patted her elbow, indicating her bottom had been grabbed. Sol gave her a relieved nod. They all dreaded the day a friend patted their inner elbow, yawned and patted their mouth, or a female mage patted their bicep. A few days later, they were usually found in a darkened corner, robes torn, bodies bruised, and what innocence there was to be had living in a Circle shattered forever. Solona had handled a few of those in the infirmary, even being an apprentice, and her nightmares had woken Gwyn many nights.
The hard pews made her rump hurt, and by the end of the sermon, it was throbbing.
After the short service came lunch, but she couldn't eat. Her eyes kept flicking to the Templars standing along the walls, wondering which one it had been, and if they were going to try again. Solona and Anders were whispering and glancing at her, Jowan blithely oblivious and asking if he could have her shepherd's pie if she wasn't going to eat it. Gwyn pulled the buttered roll off the plate and slid it to him, and he dug in. She slowly nibbled on the roll, the flavor like ash on her tongue.
The bell signalling None service clanged, but it was optional. The time between None and dinner was free time for Enchanters and the mages close to or who had passed their Harrowings. Solona pulled Gwyn to the library, both of them smiling at Ser Cullen, who turned bright red and ducked his head. Gwyn felt her cheeks and the tips of her ears heat. He was so shy, she was fairly certain he wasn't the one who had grabbed her. If only she didn't trip over her own tongue every time she tried to talk to him! The two of them casually ducked behind a stack of books, hidden from sight.
"Do you know which one it was, Gwyn?" Solona gestured for her to lift the skirts of her robe. She hissed, and Gwyn guessed there was probably a nasty bruise already.
"I don't, they got me in the Chantry doorway right before Sext." Gwyn let out a sigh of relief as cool healing magic washed over her, and the pain eased.
"Anders heard that Ser Brigit and Ser Kerwin were reported by the First Enchanter and had to clean the privies again. Although... Ser Brigit has never shown any interest in other women, so most likely Ser Kerwin." Solona stopped, rearranging Gwyn's robe and holding her shoulders, eyes filled with concern, "Be careful, Gwyn. You know Knight-Commander Greagoir will blame the mage any time it's reported, and he's got it out for you since you're Irving's star pupil. Remember what happened to Arlen."
"I know, Sol. I know." Gwyn shuddered, thinking of the Tranquil that helped Owain in the storerooms.
"You two! What are you doing back there?" Ser Drass's voice rang through his helm, and Gwyn was sure he was glaring at them.
Solona replied softly, "Quietly, Ser Drass, if you please. I noticed Gwyneth didn't eat very much at lunch. She has a bit of a headache and I've been healing it."
The Templar stood quiet for a few moments, then barked at a much lower volume, "Very well, Mage Amell, but the two of you need to come out here where we can see you once it's done."
"Of course, Ser Drass."
They dared not delay now that a Templar had noticed them, so Gwyn and Solana left the safety of the bookshelves and sat, reading books and turning pages without really seeing the words until the dinner bell rang. Vespers was chanted while they ate, and Gwyn found herself smiling for the first time that day when Anders commented that he couldn't figure out how the lamb and pea stew could be both undercooked yet taste burned at the same time.
A few mouthfuls confirmed that the lamb was indeed undercooked, and the gravy scorched. Solona groaned, it meant she would likely have an infirmary full of food poisoning victims over the next day or so. The tension between Gwyn's shoulders eased, feeling safer amongst her tiny group of friends. Too soon, the Templars were hurrying everyone out to clean the tower from top to bottom before Compline.
"Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Go with the Maker, and may He and Andraste forgive you. Walk always under Her eyes."
Gwyn looked up at the statue of Andraste, as she had many times before leaving for the library to clean and grab a book to read before the lights were put out. She wondered what Andraste would make of the prison Her words had crafted for mages.