Cassandra leaned on the railing, watching the hive of activity in the armoury beneath. It was no doubt obvious to any third-rate spy for a hundred leagues that the Inquisition army was planning on going somewhere in force; hopefully Leliana was sending out enough misinformation about the where of it, although their enemies would surely realise that Adamant was a good guess.

She was looking forward to getting out again. In the midst of all this hubbub, there was actually quite little for her to do except get in the way of Cullen's intricate network of delegation.

And chew over old questions...

"Inquisitor?"

Themis, sat around the corner of the railing with her legs dangling through it, sighed. "And we were having such a lovely chat."

Neither one of them having said a word in some time, Cassandra hesitated in confusion.

"All right, don't keep me in suspense. What made you put on your serious voice?"

"What happened to the Ostwick delegation?"

Her wry expression vanished. She was silent, gazing without interest at the activity below. Just as Cassandra was wondering whether any answer would be forthcoming, she said, "Of course you've some reason to believe they didn't make it to the Conclave and die with everybody else "

"I hear they didn't even make it to the ship."

"Ah, of course. I'm tempted to ask just how much Leliana's figured out, but that would look like I was trying to fit my story to it, wouldn't it?"

"I trust you."

"Oh, go on then."

"There's not much. Leliana decided some time ago that there was nothing sinister about your refusal to discuss it, and so her people had better things to do. The delegation - you - left the Circle but didn't rendezvous with the ship that had been hired to get you across the Waking Sea. There was an incident at your family home which some rumours say involved you, though they deny it..."

Themis snickered humourlessly.

"And certain items identified as having belonged to your companions turned up for sale in the area. The Ostwick Circle just say there was a 'mishap' – with, as Leliana puts it, a generous side helping of 'Mind your own business.'"

"That doesn't surprise me." She sighed. "I suppose I can tell you... most of it now. There are still some... details... I'd rather not go into."

Cassandra nodded. Whatever had happened, it surely hadn't been pretty; and especially so to someone fresh out of the Circle. It was easy to forget, from time to time, how young the Inquisitor was.


It had been drizzling steadily since they left, the road was starting to go to mud in the spots where the stonework was damaged and, even if the budget had run to horses, few mages could ride. Yet it felt as if nothing could dampen Themis' spirits. Not since she was eight years old had she been more than a few hundred yards from the Circle's walls. Now she was going all the way to Ferelden. The Conclave would see reason, restore the Circles and set the world to rights. And the Ostwick delegation would be part of it.

"Well, you're looking disgustingly cheerful," observed Senior Enchanter Evnis Stanwick.

"Pleasure of your charming company," she smiled.

"You do talk a load of rubbish, woman."

He was right, of course; everybody considered him a grouch, himself included. He was there not for the Conclave itself but for the long journey that lay between Ostwick and Haven. His mastery of the Primal school was in as little doubt as his lack of social graces.

Themis had to admit, later, that on that basis their assailants had used some sound tactical thinking. From the corner of her eye she saw Ser Rielle, behind them, unsheathe her sword, and before she had time to wonder why, the blade was blood-smeared, protruding from Evnis' chest. Rielle shoved him to the ground, planted her boot in his back and yanked her weapon free; she was turning her attention to Themis when another templar crashed into her.

She knelt beside Evnis, feeling the hard wet stones beneath her knees, fixated on the look of incomprehension on his face as he rolled over and died. She reached for him, irrationally convinced that somehow this was a mistake, that nobody could be gone just like that, the sounds of battle around her barely registering until another man – the templar who'd stopped Rielle – fell next to her, clawing at his helmet as he choked on his own blood. Belatedly realising that there was a massacre going on around her, she tried to scramble up, feet catching on the hem of her robe. She had just unhooked her staff when a blow knocked her from her feet again. As she scrabbled to retrieve her weapon, fear was finally beginning to penetrate; but she had barely begun to get herself together when there was a sudden... cracking feeling inside her, and her connection, the power that had been her constant companion, her curse for over half her life, was... not there. Some detached part of her mind observed that she'd never before had a templar's dampening power used on her before; and it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

"Alive, damn it!" The voice was familiar, and twisting her head around as her hands were pinned behind her, Themis saw Ser Ricklen. Then somebody pulled her hood down over her face and she saw nothing more.


"Do you know much about the Ostwick Circle?"

"No," said Cassandra. "But I think I'm beginning to see why they wouldn't talk to us."

Themis wrinkled her nose. "Quite. Only a couple of the actual delegation turned on us, but it was enough to give Ricklen's lot the opening they needed. I imagine the ultimate plan for me was ransom, but... you know, when I'd caught Ricklen looking at me I'd always assumed it was my own corruption making me see things that weren't there. Or wishful thinking – he was a handsome one. It sounds rather silly, looking back, but that was the way I'd been taught to see it. Mages corruptible, templars not. It didn't even change when the war started and Knight-Commander Sonnilon cut him and a little gang of his friends loose because he was pushing too hard for a break with the Chantry.

"So. Anyway. They dragged me off into the wilderness, which was... unpleasant. And exhausting. Finally they'd got far enough that they felt safe to stop and rest. And that was where a rather ironic bit of luck came into play.

"It wasn't just ransom Ricklen wanted; and for the... other thing he wanted, he felt the need for some privacy. So he took me off by himself, and... I don't remember that part very well."

Cassandra's fingernails were digging into the back of her other hand, but she kept her voice as level as she could. "That's not unusual. The mind finds ways of dealing with things."

"It's stupid, really, it's not as if he even got that far-"

"Stop that."

With a startled look, she stopped.

"It must have been terrifying," Cassandra continued. "It is not stupid to find the memory upsetting just because it could have been worse."

Themis wrapped her arms around the upright she was sitting beside, and lowered her gaze.

The Seeker had the feeling she wasn't quite convinced. "If a friend told you this story, would you call her stupid?"

"...No."

"I should think not. Anyway, what happened to prevent him getting very far?"

"Well... the first I knew was when Farron pulled the hood off and I realised the stuff I'd just been spattered with was the blood from Ricklen's cut throat."

"Farron?"

"The absolute last mage I'd expect to swoop in and save my life. He was the distraction, mind you, it was Ardri who did the actual throat-slitting..."


"... gone hours out of our – way and risked our – lives to rescue – Lady The-Chantry-Can-Do-No-Wrong and it's – enough. Cut her loose and let's go." Farron was wheezing from exertion.

"Cut her loose? Kinder to cut her throat." Ardri, the smallest of the three of them, seemed to barely be breathing heavily. Elves could be astonishing creatures.

"Don't be dramatic."

"I'm not. She's hurt, she's exhausted, she's got no supplies and all the wilderness survival skills of a turnip. We abandon her out here, she'll be lucky to run into someone else who'll rape her and sell her, instead of something that'll just eat her."

"If we go anywhere near civilisation, she'll turn us in."

"You were the one who insisted on going after her, Farron."

"I don't remember you putting up much of a fight."

So they were onto recriminations already. Themis, lying where she'd collapsed with a root digging into her stomach, was vaguely aware this conversation ought to be worrying, but it was difficult to focus. Her entire body ached from the hours of unaccustomed exercise and the various blows it had taken - the back of her head was particularly bad - her shoulders and wrists were screaming and she could barely feel her bound hands.

And then there was the thirst. She'd had a day's hard marching and nothing to drink since breakfast. She hadn't known it was possible for a mouth to feel so dry. Her throat was a torment.

For most of the day the tantalising on-and-off rain had only added to her misery; but now that Farron and Ardri had finally stopped, it meant that she could at least do something about one of her myriad problems.

It was an act of will to move. Trying to get up was already awkward with her hands stuck behind her. Every muscle she used screamed, and in order to make it to her knees she had to concentrate on how badly she needed to get her voice working before the other two came to some conclusion.


"I think it was a measure of the kind of day I was having that it didn't occur to me in the slightest how undignified and possibly unhealthy it was to be lapping up water from a puddle."

"We do what we must."


"If I may make a suggestion."

The two looked at her in surprise.

Themis tossed her head, trying to get her hair out of the way, but it was plastered to her face and wouldn't budge. "There is a way you can get rid of me with a clear conscience and still be far away before I can tell anyone about you. Anyone who matters, anyhow." She had decided that trying to convince them she simply wouldn't talk would be a dead end.

Ardri folded her arms. "I'm listening."

She couldn't think of blood and screams and chaos. Couldn't think of claustrophobic darkness, of rough groping hands and powerlessness. Breaking down in hysterics simply wasn't a good move right now. "My family. They'll be on the estate, outside the city. Get me within sight and you can be a long way gone before I make it there. Wherever you think you're going."

"To the Conclave," said Farron, absently running a finger over the scar on his cheekbone that his elaborate tattoo did not fully conceal. "They shouldn't just hear from templar-lickers like you."

"You snuck out while we were all leaving?"

"Yes. Lucky for you, we stayed close enough to the road to see what happened."

"Thank you. Have we an agreement?"

He looked at Ardri. "I don't know. We'd still be safer leaving her."

She shrugged. "You're the one who's always carrying on about how mages should stick together. Doesn't mean much if you only follow through for mages you agree with. Besides, I like the idea of a Trevelyan owing me a favour."

"There are mages I disagree with, and then there are self-righteous cattle I actively despise and think the world would be a better place without."

Themis bit her tongue.

"I don't like her, either," said Ardri, "but I have to tell you you're not in a position to get at anyone else about self-righteousness."

"That – that's not the point."

"No, the point is, are we going to abandon her when getting her to safety would be easy and barely out of our way? I say no."

"Fine. All right. Just till we can see the family estate. Then we're done."

"Fine. We'll take a quick rest here and then I reckon we can make it before nightfall."

"Fine."

"Thank you," said Themis. "And I hate to push my luck, but would you untie my hands please?"

"No, not yet," responded Ardri. "I don't want you grabbing one of our staves."

"What?"

"Did I start speaking Qunari? You'd be dangerous."

"There... are two of you." Themis thought with a pang of her own staff, doubtless gone beyond recall.

"Maybe when we're ready to move on."

She sighed and looked down. There was more flesh on display than she was comfortable with, though at least her underclothes were mercifully intact. "Then would you please pull my robe up over my shoulders?"

Ardri came over and tugged her torn robe into place. She was frowning, distracted.

"Something else?" asked Themis.

"It's not your fault. You better know that."

Farron snorted. "You're onto a loser there. It is the centre of Milady's philosophy that mages deserve whatever they get. Hung, Tranquilised, faces marked up by dog-lord jackasses..."

"Shut up, Farron. This is girl talk now."

Unwise enough to open his mouth again, Farron withered beneath Ardri's glare and sat down sulkily with his back against a pine trunk.

The elf turned back to Themis. "As I was saying before somebody interrupted, men love to fling around phrases like 'leading me on'. If there's anything in your head telling you that Ricklen did what he did because of anything you did, it's wrong. Assuming you never took him aside and said, 'It would really turn me on if you massacred my friends, kidnapped me and tore my clothes off,' - I can assume that, right? The only one to blame here is him."


"Was she right? Did you feel that way?"

"Well... yes, but for the wrong reasons. Farron was closer, oddly enough. I'd swallowed the whole templars-good, mages-bad thing so completely, I was deep-down convinced I'd corrupted him somehow. I didn't spell it out to myself, not at the time..."

"You do realise now that's nonsense?"

"Yes. It's good he's dead." She frowned. "That's hate, I think. Funny thing. We talk about feelings as if they're separate items, but they're all messy and complicated and run-together. How could I hate anyone when I was crushing my anger?"

Cassandra watched a little group of recent volunteers trying to find armour that fit. They were making a mess of putting it on, but she resisted the temptation to meddle; and sure enough, their corporal appeared and started setting them to rights.

"What's on your mind, Cassandra?"

"I've seen you fight. It's hard to imagine you freezing up and then tripping over yourself. I suppose we all have to start somewhere."

"Yes, it was my first real fight. By the time I'd made it across Ferelden with just the three of us, I was a bit more seasoned. Which... bothers me."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, supposing I really was chosen by the Maker. When did he choose me? Is it possible a group of good people - friends, some of them - died so that I could become the competent battle mage the Inquisition would need?"

Cassandra pointed at the little group below. "I expect they're good people who have friends. You know not all of our troops will make it back from Adamant."

"It's not the same thing. The Maker can-"

"Because you can't control who will die? Irrelevant. You've accepted that some lives must be sacrificed for the cause."

She scowled and swung her feet back and forth, an oddly childish gesture. "But the Maker has options we don't. Such as putting an end to punishing the whole world for the sins of some arrogant Tevinters over a thousand years ago."

"Nobody has all the answers. There comes a time when you have to let go and trust in His plan."

"I'm not as good as I used to be about trusting authority – another result, oddly enough, of His plan, if we're sticking with that thesis. Besides, there is one other important difference between Him and me. At Adamant, you and Cullen and I will be right there risking our lives with the troops." Themis got to her feet. "Please don't tell Cullen about... what almost happened. Or anyone who might tell him. The way gossip spreads around here, I guess that means don't tell anyone."

"Why? He wouldn't blame you."

"It's not that, it's just..." She chewed her lip. "I just don't ever want him to have that in his head when we're together."

"As you wish. I will have to fill Leliana in, mind you, and she'll know if I'm holding back."

"I think I can rely on Leliana's discretion. You know, if her agents had kept up their investigation I'm sure they would have noticed that my sister somehow managed to attend her sister-in-law's confinement in Tantervale whilst simultaneously sailing to Amaranthine on the good ship Tenebrous."

Cassandra smiled. "How did that come about?"

"Long story. I've got a feeling that if I stay longer, we'll end up doing each other's hair or something ridiculous. I need to get a drink and go back to being Inquisitorial for a bit."

It was on the tip of Cassandra's tongue to call after Themis as she headed for the stairs, but she suppressed the urge. She had a sense that the Inquisitor was done opening up for the day; she should take what she had to Leliana, and be glad they finally had that much.