I like reviews. Please let me know what you think, good, bad or indifferent. The germ of this story came from the 'In Defense of Preachy Schoolmarm' thread on the Bioware boards

Reputation

We were in Denerim and mage that I was, I decided it might be good to recruit some of the mages that live there. Most people assume that all mages live in the Tower but the reality is somewhat different. Some mages are fortunate and are able to get married and have a family. They generally live somewhere else. Some mages are hired on a semi permanent basis by a great lord. Some mages have nothing to do with the Circle and are therefore outlaws.

I had a solid lead to find the outlaws. I have a contact who is really a mage himself but knows some of them. The working mages would likely be loathe to leave a good paying gig, but I thought I would give them a try. Luckily, they were the easiest to find. The retired, settled down mages would be tricky. After discussing it with Wynne, we split our responsibilities. While Morrigan is a mage and an illegal one at that, she would make a wretched recruiter. Wynne has a tendency to be sanctimonious (I didn't phrase it that way when we were discussing it) so I thought I would handle the illegal mages. Wynne would handle the working mages. Neither of us had a clue on how to find the retired mages.

Wynne offered no suggestions on that subject. I must admit I found that odd. She had been a mage for a very long time. Everyone in the magic world seemed to know her. In fact most men of a certain age and status seemed to know her. But she claimed not to know where any retired mages lived and implied that my quest to find them would be futile.

The Mages Collective turned out to be a complete bust. Mages that live underground in a Chantry controlled city have excellent instincts for self preservation. Not to mention the few that would even consider the idea were poorly trained, lacking in combat skills and were more likely to injure our side than the darkspawn. I had been foolish. Most illegal mages apparently survive making love potions. Putting our troops into a semi permanent state of lust seemed unlikely to lead to victory.

Footsore and discouraged after only a few hours of work, I repaired to an inn for a bracer. The barkeep was a friendly enough sort and through him I got my first break.

"May I help you?"

I whined "It's not even noon and I'm beat. What do you have to put me back on my feet and finish the day?"

He was a burly fellow with a round, open face. "I know just the thing." And turned and poured me an ale.

The ale hit the spot. Light, refreshing, not terribly alcoholic, it cut right through the dust.

"Hard day?"

"I'm looking for a mage. I know there are perfectly legal ones living here in the city, but I can't seem to find one."

"Not looking for trouble are you?"

I lied a little bit. "I'm not even looking for magic. I'm looking for a friend of mine who is a mage. I reckon other mages would know where he is."

The bartender paused wiping his glass and thought for a bit.

"There is a mage that lives three doors down from here, a Master Raley. I don't want him in trouble though. He's a decent fellow and a dab hand at hangover cures."

"I know him! I won't cause any trouble at all. I'd love to meet him again. Where does he live?"

I made a note of the directions (how hard is it to remember 'Turn right and knock on the third door on the right?')

Master Raley had always liked me. He was a kind man. He was also older than dirt. But even if he wasn't up to the job, he almost certainly knew where other mages were. He had never been a participant in our Circle politics, but he was very well liked and trusted. Even as a very junior apprentice I knew that.

I knocked. He opened the door. Master Raley was as I remembered him, medium height, iron gray hair and older than dirt.

"Hello Master Raley!"

"Young Arwen! How are you? Come in, come in."

His wife, Berthilde, was a delight as well. After a lovely lunch (it turned out they competed at cookery) and a fair amount of gossip, I came to the point.

"...so you see we need mages. The Circle can provide some, but there really aren't a lot left there after the Uldred thingy. And we only have two with us, and one them is an apostate."

He rubbed his chin. "I'm seventy three last month. Even if I could help, I wouldn't be much use. I haven't allowed myself to use magic in over four years. My hands shake too much and I lack proper focus."

I had figured as much. "Do you know anyone who might be able to help?"

He thought some more. He came up with a few names, less than I had hoped, then added "You do understand that any mage who is retired and is living outside the tower is a mage the Chantry and the templars do not consider a threat. Don't get your hopes up too much."

Well, to say that was discouraging was putting it lightly. Unfortunately, it also made sense.

"You haven't mentioned who your Circle mage is. He could probably give you better guidance than I can. Anyone able to travel would be more knowledgeable of the younger set. Who is he?"

"I'm sure you know her. Wynne volunteered."

"Wynne? How is eas...err, she?

I blinked. He obviously had one thought and then corrected himself.

"She's fine. A bit worse for the wear and she is older. Ostagar hit her hard. Still gives lots of advice."

"She was something else in her youth. But I'm keeping you from your task..."

I took the hint and headed off.

I had a list of six prospects. All but one were men. Since mages are both male and female in roughly equal numbers I found that odd. I could use it to my advantage. Older men often like to flirt, as do I. The great thing about men of a certain age is that all the parties involved know it isn't ever leading anywhere.

I met five old men. We chatted, flirted and I got nowhere. Master Raley had been correct. They were all sprightly for their age, but not really up to traipsing over the countryside. They also all had the same curious reaction to Wynne. A quick smile and a change of subject.

I save the woman for last. Mistress Fiora was an elf who lived in a quiet back street on the outskirts. She had retired before I entered the Circle and was quite ancient. She was also the most spry of the lot.

As expected she also declined to help. Her plan was that if the Blight spread this far, she would head to the Alienage and see what she could do. I liked her. I'm prejudiced in favour of my kind anyway and to talk with another elven mage woman was a refreshing change of pace.

After a long and lovely chat, she too asked who my mage companion was.

"Wynne."

I look at her closely. She laughed and said "I imagine she's not up to her old tricks anymore is she?"

"The preachy schoolmarm?"

She laughed more, not cackled, laughed. "Is that what she's become? She was quite different in her youth let me tell you."

"Please do."

"It was a wonder she learned any magic at all given how much time she spent on her back. All the lads, mages and templars alike, called her 'an easy Wynne'."

"Templars?"

"Templars, mages, men, women and the odd ferryman. One thing about Wynne, she's never discriminated. Of course, it caught up with her in the end."

"What happened?"

"The usual story. She was casual about everything and it turned out she was casual about her birth control. She became pregnant, hid the fact from everyone and when she gave birth they took her baby. That changed her, after a while, of course."

I nodded. That would change anyone who was not a complete idiot.

I changed the subject a bit. "She said she was moody as a youth."

Fiora snorted. "She would. 'Moody' was her word for needing sex. Most of us were blunt and used plain speech. Common people get horny. Not Wynne. Wynne always had to feel special and wanted. Saying she was moody made her feel that way. Just like her saying she had an affinity with the Fade."

"She still does."

Fiora laughed. "She would, at that. I doubt she admits to being moody anymore, but she'll never stop wanting to be special. It's shame she'll never just accept who she is, but some never do."

I thanked Fiora and headed back to rejoin my friends.