Moonlight filtered in through the window the small room Ariane had been assigned to as she rose from the floor. She would never get used to the squishy mattresses humans insisted on sleeping in.
She hadn't expected to be able to sleep at all, but exhaustion had beat out paranoia and she realized it was at least an hour later than when she had intended to wake up. With any luck though, that meant the tower should be even more deserted.
As quietly as possible, she slipped into her armour and boots. She hesitated briefly before strapping on her sword belt – it would be difficult to explain if they were caught. She couldn't risk not being able to get back to them, though. After all, if they were caught she might need them.
She noted that her longsword, Rain of Petals (a gift from her father when she had become an adult in the clan) needed a whetstone. The shorter blade was the one Banic had referred to as her best friend. He had claimed she paid more attention to the sword than to him. It remained was stubbornly sharp as always, and whispered against the leather of its scabbard as she slid it into her belt.
Her first step was down to the kitchens, to refill the food stores in her pack. She felt a brief twinge of guilt as she remembered how small the rations at the mages' meals had been. There was no getting around the fact that she had only packed enough food for one person to get to Lothering and back, though. She took from the stashes of dried bread and fruit as sparingly as she could.
She crept up the stairs, feeling her way in the dark. She had always disliked multi-storied buildings. The ground was meant to stay under your feet, and no matter how solid the floor she always felt the sense of void below her, that she was not somewhere she was meant to be. Humans, however, seemed obsessed with stairs. The Tower was particularly full of the damnable things.
The chambers on the fourth floor – Finn had mentioned that they used to belong to the Templars – were small and narrow, with anonymous unmarked doors. It took her a bit of searching to find Finn's room. The mage was sleeping fitfully, head buried under a pillow. She walked over as quietly as she could and shook his shoulder gently.
'...not listening,' he mumbled, yanking the pillow even harder over his head. 'Stupid gerbil...'
'Finn?' she whispered. 'It's me.' She shook him again a little harder.
'Don't need you...' He pulled his knees up to his chest.
Ariane sighed. She wanted to be humane but there was no time for this. She grabbed both his arms and hauled him upright. 'Wake up,' she hissed.
His round hazel eyes flew open. 'Ah! Andraste!' His usually neat red hair stuck up in tangled clumps all around his face. His eyes grew even wider as he recognized Ariane. 'Why are you...' he said wonderingly.
Ariane flicked her eyes to the moon, visible through the window.
Finn followed her gaze and the confusion cleared from his face. 'Oh, yeah.' He swung his long skinny legs over the edge of the bed, looking slightly disappointed for some reason. 'Right. Is it...'
'Time, yes.' Ariane grabbed his wooden staff from its place in the corner and thrust it into his hand. Finn stared at it, still looking sleepy and bewildered.
'You alright?' she asked tentatively. 'You were talking in your sleep.'
'Really?' Finn sounded alarmed. 'About what?'
Ariane tried to remember the exact words. 'Something about gerbils...'
'Oh,' he said, looking relieved. 'That's okay then.' He pushed himself out of bed and straightened his robes. 'Shall we?' He looked nervously towards the door.
Ariane wondered if she should mention that his hair looked like a sparrow's nest, but then decided it would probably just worry the fastidious mage unnecessarily. She hoisted her pack, which was distinctly heavier than it had been when they arrived. 'I realized we were going to be low on food, so I grabbed some from the kitchens. Oh, come on,' she added, seeing his guilty expression and remembering her own misgivings. 'I think they owe us. Think of it as payment for getting the basement open.' She ducked around the door and headed back into the hallway.
'Oh, hell.' Finn followed, obviously trying to be quiet. To Ariane's hunter ears his footsteps were painfully loud. 'I didn't think of that.' He chewed his lower lip. 'Do you think we'll be giving them access to anything dangerous down there?'
Ariane hadn't thought of that either. She had no idea what kind of thing was in the Tower's storage, or how much damage it could do in Rytel's hands. 'I doubt anything worse than blood magic. Or blackpowder.'
Suddenly, movement caught her eye in the dark. She yanked Finn behind a pillar and flattened herself against the stone wall. 'Shit.'
'What?' Finn whispered back, trying to lean out to look.
She shoved him back again, listening hard for footsteps. 'Someone's there.' She couldn't see them, but she could feel them. Her instincts on this, at least, were rarely wrong. She fervently wished she hadn't brought her weapons. Overconfidence on her part – she had been so certain she could evade anyone who might see. The quiet footsteps grew louder, echoing slightly in the huge room. She desperately wracked her brain for an excuse.
Suddenly, her joke from earlier came back to her. ... pretend we're madly in love... On pure instinct, she grabbed the front of Finn's robes and pressed her mouth hard against his, working her free hand into his messy hair.
Just in time. A girl's voice from nearby asked, 'Finn? Is that – oh!' Ariane pulled her head back, doing her best to look like she had been interrupted in the throes of passion. At least her natural instinct to look guilty and trapped was working to her advantage for once. Enalla, the elf girl who had been assigned to watch them, stood holding a candle. 'Oh. Crap.'
The girl's face was red, and she didn't seem to know what to do with her hands. Her fair hair had been tied back into a sloppy bun, with pieces escaping to frame her narrow face. 'Ah, Nikea asked me to...' She blushed even deeper. 'Shit.'
Finn's mouth was gaping like a fish. If possible, he looked even more mortified then Enalla. Ariane prayed that he was awake enough now to play along. 'Hi,' he croaked. 'We were just...'
'Going for a walk.' Ariane supplied. Gods, there had to be less awkward ways to be stealthy than this.
'Right.' Enalla backed away, shooting Ariane a slightly scathing look. She didn't seem to have noticed how armed they were at all. 'I'll just, um...' Her voice trailed off, and her eyes darted from side to side.
'Get me if you need anything, yeah?' she said finally, before escaping back up the hallway.
Ariane released Finn as soon as Enalla was out of sight. 'Sorry,' she apologized, feeling profoundly embarrassed. 'Panicked a bit.'
'Yeah.' Finn sounded even more bewildered than usual. 'Me too.' His mouth was red where she had kissed him. Idiotically, she felt herself blushing too. She had a weird urge to fix his hair.
'Which way?' she asked more sharply then she meant to, drying to dispel the paralyzing awkwardness which seemed to have filled the air.
'Um,' Finn closed his eyes briefly, and then pointed down a hallway towards the stairwell. 'Downstairs.'
Finn led the way downstairs and Ariane followed, listening intently for any more late-night wanderers. Was it possible Nikea had told her cronies to check if they were still in their beds? Ariane couldn't believe the paranoia of this place. She might not be a mage, but she had shown no sign of any aggression to the mages. Still, everyone treated her like an unfortunate add-on, something to be tolerated only because one of their own kind said it was necessary.
Your people are hardly better, her conscience whispered.
She watched Finn out of the corner of her eye. What would her own clan do if she appeared with him in tow? He would be lucky if he weren't shot on sight. She could vouch that he was kind or clever or harmless all she wanted, but they'd never really accept him. Maybe the Dalish were Thedas's authorities on hypocrisy as well as victimization.
The hallways outside the boarded-up door were thankfully deserted. Ariane crouched with her back to the rough barricade, keeping watch down both corridors. Now they needed to get his attention without getting anyone else's. There was a small gap in the door, presumably how the mages kept the templar fed enough to live. Maybe they could pass notes through there?
Finn seemed to have realized the same issue. With a whispered incantation, he traced a hand along the floor in a wide circle around them. It glowed orange for a moment, and a faint buzz filled Ariane's ears, as though she had ventured too close to a wasps' nest. 'Silence field,' he explained. 'So no one will overhear.'
She nodded. 'Good thinking.' Finn looked rather pleased with himself.
Ariane rose and tapped gently on the door. 'Hello? We'd like to speak to you.'
No one responded. Ariane hoped that the man hadn't gone and died while they'd been waiting. That would just be plain inconsiderate.
Finn knocked harder on the door, obviously having more faith in the sound-blocking spell than Ariane did. 'Ser?' he called. 'Ser Templar? Can you-'
A hoarse croak answered, making both of them jump. 'Can't you mages leave me in peace? I told you I don't know about any damned blackpowder.'
'I'm not a mage,' Ariane said, keeping her voice as steady as possible. She peered into the gloomy room. 'I'm here to help you.' She tried to remember the details she had invented – agents of the Divine, here for an artifact...
A wheezing sound began. It took Ariane a moment to realize it was laughter. 'You think I'm stupid?' The laugh dissolved into a rattling cough. 'You might not be a mage, Dalish, but you can't tell me your friend there just wears dresses for sport.' Ariane felt her eyes widen involuntarily. The Templar's vision was far sharper than she had expected if he could see them so easily.
'Leave me in peace,' the man croaked, then went silent.
'What's wrong with him?' Ariane asked Finn in an undertone. She had expected the templar to be poorly cared for, but this man sounded seriously ill. Surely in a tower full of mages, one of the healers would be instructed to keep a valuable prisoner alive.
'Lyrium withdrawal,' Finn whispered back, looking troubled. 'He's dying.'
'Well spotted,' the templar said sarcastically. Ariane made a mental note that the man's hearing seemed freakishly clear too.
Ariane readied her practiced lie, then gave up. Neither of them was any good at cover stories, and if the templar was truly dying, he probably cared little what fake mission they were on anyways. Instinct told her to be honest. 'Listen. We might not exactly be friends of your order, but I think maybe we can help each other.'
The Templar wheezed hollowly again. 'I'm no friend of my order either, little girl,' he said, with a barking cough. 'Some of us weren't so quick to abandon the Divine.' Even without seeing his face, Ariane could hear the bitterness in his voice. A faint hope lit in her chest. 'If you're looking for Templar secrets, you probably know as much as I do,' the Templar said dismissively.
'Some mages didn't leave the Chantry either, Ser,' Finn said. He sounded oddly sad. Ariane had assumed that Finn had stayed with the Chantry out of habit, but now it occurred to her that it might have been, at least partially, out of faith.
She suddenly felt guilty for having let her disdain for the shemlan religion show. Finn had been nothing but respectful of her culture (if a little over-enthusiastic). She owed him the same courtesy.
The templar paused before responding. When he spoke again, his voice was resigned. 'Why are you here? Neither of you looks half mean-enough for this bunch.' Ariane heard someone shifting through the door. 'You should get out of the madhouse while you still can.'
'There's something we need to get,' Ariane explained, still determined to tell the truth. 'A book.' The templar snorted. 'It's not dangerous,' she objected, 'but it's very important. We think it might be locked in the basement.'
'Basement's sealed off. Templars closed it before they were slaughtered by the bloody Tevinters.'
'What?' Finn asked, eyes wide. Ariane wished the Templar hadn't said anything.
'Those that didn't run,' the Templar said grimly. 'Can't say I blame them.' Finn looked horrified.
'The storage rooms are locked,' Ariane said, quickly changing the subject. 'But it takes two people to open them. A mage and a Templar.'
The templar was silent for a minute. When he spoke, his voice sounded even more tires and hoarse. 'What's your name, Dalish?'
'Ariane,' she answered. 'This is Finn.'
'What's yours?' Finn asked in a small voice.
'Ser Rowan.' Te templar laughed again. 'Well, used to be. Suppose it's just Rowan, now that I'm excommunicated.'
Silence fell for a minute. Ariane crossed her fingers behind her back, chewing on a nail on her other hand. Finn absently slapped it out of her mouth.
Finally, the Templar sighed. The sound was long and hollow. 'A book is really worth this to you? Hell.' She heard Ser Rowan's knees crack as he pulled himself to his feet. His breath was hard and rattling. 'Open 'er up. We'll see if I can live long enough to get down the stairs.'