Thank you all for reading! No update next week again, and another week off in April - but we should be good for a while after that.


There wasn't much of a trail to follow, but the Qunari warrior had been stumbling a bit, so there was some indication that he had come from the palace itself—broken branches and scuff marks in the dirt in places most people didn't walk. Fairbanks led them into the house through a shattered side window and into what appeared to be a long forgotten room where it was easier to follow the tracks because the dust lay so heavy on the ground. And then Ren stood before a structure she hadn't expected to see again—an eluvian.

"Fantastic," she sighed. "Just what I wanted to do today."

"Go through an enchanted mirror? Yeah, because that always works out so well," the Iron Bull agreed. Ren wondered if he was remembering, as she was, the time he had dragged her through the eluvian in the Arbor Wilds to get her out of Corypheus's reach. She'd been very angry with him for that, and he had, of course, been completely unrepentant.

"We'll have to investigate. Ashkaari, what was a Qunari doing in an eluvian?" she asked him.

"Fuck if I know. We're not elves, and we don't usually mess around with magic stuff. Not unless we're very sure we're in control of it."

"Clearly that guy wasn't as in control as he thought."

"No," the Iron Bull agreed.

Fairbanks looked at the mirror with dissatisfaction. "Someone needs to report this back to the Inquisitor," he said.

Ren barely managed to restrain her eyeroll. "Why don't you do that, then, and we'll investigate what's on the other side of the mirror?" If she hadn't volunteered, she would have ended up having to do it anyway, she reasoned. She wondered how the Inquisition had ever gotten anything done without her. Maybe that was why they were all here at Halamshiral, because without her no one had actually been willing to go out and get their hands dirty.

"The Iron Bull?" said a familiar voice from the doorway. "And the former Inquisitor?" They turned to see Cole peeking at them from under his hat. "Do you need help?"

"Yeah, kid. Let's do it!" the Iron Bull said, clearly feeling better at the idea of having Cole along.

The boy came the rest of the way into the room, and Vivienne was right behind him. "I brought a friend," Cole said.

Ren raised her eyebrows. The mage was the last person she would have expected to see with Cole, or volunteering to get back to the old work. But she was glad to see her—whatever was through the mirror, a powerful mage coming along had to be a benefit. "We're happy to see you both," she assured them. "You ready for a fight?"

Cole nodded seriously, and Vivienne smiled. "It has been such a long time, my dears. I do hope my skills haven't atrophied."

Even though she could tell the mage hadn't meant it, Ren reassured her that that didn't seem likely anyway.

"Right, then," the Iron Bull said. "Let's see where that guy came from."

Ren glanced at him, hoping that this would turn out all right for him. He had wrestled for such a long time with the two sides of himself, she hated to see that self-doubt awakened again. Of all the things she had expected to find waiting for them at the Winter Palace, the last she had expected were the Qunari. She could only imagine what it must be like for her lover to suddenly find himself faced with someone who looked like him again, after such a long time, and have that person be dead.

The best thing for him was work, she knew. So she stood in front of the eluvian and stretched out her hand, feeling the cool glass rippling around it, and then she was through, and behind her the others. The scene before her was familiar, and yet not familiar. She recognized the blank emptiness of the Crossroads, where Morrigan had brought her long ago, but not the mirrors themselves. Of course, mostly they all looked the same. She wondered if Morrigan would have known which was which, or Solas, if he were here.

Glancing at her hand, where the Anchor burned, she wished Solas were here. He would know what to do about it, what was happening to her. Without him, she was at a loss. She clenched her fist, pushing that problem to the side. There was no time to deal with it now.

Ahead of her was a trail leading slightly up, and she saw the glint of a mirror at the top of the trail, so she led the others that way. She stood in front of the mirror, frowning at it.

"Where do you imagine it leads?" Vivienne asked. "Seheron?"

"Let's hope not," Ashkaari said, uncharacteristically nervous. "None of you would enjoy it there." Under his breath he added, "I'm not sure I would, either."

"Well, wherever it leads, it has to give us more answers than standing here," Ren said. "Here goes nothing."

And she stepped through, on the other side finding herself at the top of a tall half-ruined structure, with fields of grass and flowers stretching as far as she could see. The sky was blue, the clouds fluffy, and she didn't like the looks of it at all.

"Too bucolic," the Iron Bull growled in agreement, standing next to her. "Like the walking dead are just going to rise from the ground at any moment."

"What a cheerful person you are, my dear," Vivienne drawled. She poked at a panel on the wall in front of them. Nothing happened. Stepping back, she frowned at it. "Ren, could you come over here?"

Ren did, and Vivienne gestured to the panel and the mark. Sure enough, as soon as the magic from the Anchor sparked onto it, the panel opened, revealing stairs that led down into the depths of the structure. "Clever."

"Freaky," the Iron Bull corrected. "That thing gets more and more difficult to explain all the time."

Ren didn't disagree. It was sparking harder, almost the way it did when there was a rift present. Without thinking, she raised her hand and opened it as though she was closing a rift. There was a burst of light, and then her hand glowed from within, lighting their way.

"Neat trick, kadan," the Iron Bull said, but his voice was unhappy about it. Ren wasn't too happy herself. He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away from him, not sure if it could hurt him in its current state or not. "You all right?"

She was too disturbed by it to brush it off any longer. "I'm not sure. It feels better now, at any rate."

Ahead of them, Cole knelt at the side of a fallen figure. "He sought the truth … and found too much."

Ren hurried ahead, the light from the Anchor falling on the face of another dead Qunari.

"Dressed just like the one in the Winter Palace," the Iron Bull observed. "He's karashok, a foot soldier. He must've been in the same squad." He knelt next to Cole, studying the body in the green light from the Anchor. "Same wounds, too—mostly blade, but some magic." He looked some more, adding, "Most of these cuts are on the back. He was taken by surprise."

"This can't have happened too long ago. The blood isn't even dry," Vivienne observed, tugging her skirt away from a patch of it.

"Then we go farther down and find out what's there," Ren said. Past the body was another staircase, and she led the way.

In the depths of the structure, they found what looked like a barracks room; the Qunari had plainly been here long enough to get comfortable. They also found Qunari, who attacked, yelling something that positively enraged the Iron Bull, who took after them with a ferocity Ren rarely saw in him these days.

She followed suit, daggers at the ready, with Cole on the Iron Bull's other side, and Vivienne's magic behind them. It really was just like old times, and the old patterns and habits came right back. Soon enough all the Qunari were down.

The Iron Bull was disappointed that none had survived to be questioned—mainly with himself. He should have had more control than that. But when they started shouting to kill the Inquisitor … well, Qunari or not, no one threatened his kadan. He studied each of the bodies carefully, looking for any clue as to what they were doing here.

Ren brought him a letter she'd found in a footlocker, and he read it over, frowning. "This says they're here because the eluvians connect to Halamshiral."

"They're aiming for the Winter Palace?" she aked him in surprise.

"Yes. This is some sort of infiltration, but there are no more details." He looked around him at the dead bodies who looked like people he had once known—but weren't, thankfully—and shouted at them, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Kadan." Ren put a hand on his arm.

He gathered himself together with an effort. "They're acting like we're at war. This is crazy! Why would they start with Orlais?"

"Are we at war with the Qunari?" Vivienne asked him.

"I don't know, ma'am. I wish I did."

"Look at this." Ren had tugged a missive out of the pocket of one of the fallen Qunari.

It was spattered with blood and torn in several places, but the Iron Bull was able to make out enough. "This says a masked and cloaked mage came upon them, using magic to awaken the spirits that dwell here and turn them against the Qunari. The mage seemed at home here, and fled before they could catch him, or her. Well, this explains something, anyway, why the bodies had both cuts and marks of magic."

"But who was it? Not a Qunari."

"No, that seems unlikely. Saarebas are carefully monitored. Human or elf, then."

Looking around them, Vivienne said, "From the looks of these ruins, I would imagine an elf. Perhaps a spirit who lives here, awakened by the presence of the Qunari?"

"Voice of the past, looking for a future," Cole said softly, almost to himself.

"What's that, kid?"

"Nothing, The Iron Bull. Pieces of a song I never knew how to sing."

"You let me know when you have the whole melody."

Cole nodded, his face distracted.

"I think we know as much as we're going to know, for now," Ren said. "We should head back and tell the others."

"Tell them what? That the Qunari are about to attack?" It was the truth; the Iron Bull didn't know why he felt so defensive about it.

"That seems to be the situation. Is there … can you think of anything else we should tell them?" Ren's blue eyes were steady on his, letting it be his call.

"No. We should tell them that. I just … don't like it."

"And I don't blame you." She squeezed his arm, then led the way back up the stairs.

"I would have thought you would be enjoying this more, my dear," Vivienne observed. "The old team back together again, ready to … kick some ass?"

He smiled, appreciating her attempt to raise his spirits. "There are a lot of other asses I'd rather be kicking."

"Well, that goes without saying. How have you been, the two of you?"

"Good. Chargers are busy, we've got work when we want it and not when we don't …" He heartily wished himself back there, listening to the pounding of the surf at the foot of the cliff where he lived with his kadan.

"Kadan," Cole observed. "It means different things. 'Heart' and 'chest' and 'her', and sometimes there are ropes—"

"Look, kid, don't hurt yourself. Kadan isn't that complicated. It's a title of honor for the woman I love." He watched her ahead of him, so beautiful and strong, and he couldn't help smiling. He had given her his heart without knowing what he was doing—but he would do it again if given the chance, and he did, every day.

Cole smiled happily, and the Iron Bull looked over at him. "Think you're pretty clever, do you? You still out there wherever you've been these past few years, helping people?"

"Yes. Towns burned, too many dead from bandits or battles. It's harder now that they can see me," Cole added, "but harder doesn't mean you don't do it."

"And the bard? What was her name, Lizette?"

"She helps people, too. Her music helps. And I do."

"Well, that sounds very nice for you."

Cole nodded, looking almost surprised. "It is."

They had reached the Crossroads now, and ahead of them Ren was hurrying toward the other eluvian. The Anchor was bothering her again, the Iron Bull could tell by the way she was holding her hand, and concern for her bubbled up in him again. He had lost the Qun, lost everything he had once been. If he lost her, too, who was he?