Rielle grabbed the edge of her desk as her face paled to a sickly gray.
"Anders? You saw him?"
Nathaniel nodded slowly and reached out to steady her, a look of concern on his face. "He helped the Champion rescue me from the Dark Roads. He's living in Kirkwall now."
Rielle fumbled for words while her mind reeled. "Kirkwall? But that place is terrible for magi! The templars there are ridiculously strict…" Oh, Anders, what are you doing?
"I think that's why he's there," said Nathaniel. "He runs a free medical clinic in the slums and gives aid to Ferelden refugees. The Champion told me he also campaigns for the magi's freedom."
"Yes, that sounds like Anders." Rielle closed her eyes as her face twisted in pain. "Was he well?"
"He's different now." He touched her arm gently. "He allowed Justice to merge with him, Rielle."
Her eyes flew open. "What? How?"
"I really don't understand the specifics, but they both share Anders' body. He's... changed. His humor and his carefree attitude are gone. It's still Anders, but he's so... intense, so serious." So angry…
"And this Champion? He is with her now?" Her voice trembled, and she couldn't meet his gaze.
"No, I don't think so. She seemed to have some sort of relationship with a Tevinter elf. I don't think he's with anyone."
"I see." She turned to stare out the window at the last rays of the sun shimmering in the lake. "Thank you for telling me."
Nathaniel gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "If I can do anything, Rielle, please let me know." He had watched this woman fight against darkspawn, stand up to demanding nobles, and destroy the Mother. It was hard to see her as she was now, desolate and frail.
She reached up and patted his hand as if he was the one in need of comfort. "I will be fine, Nate. Go freshen up and then we can talk of your adventure over some good food." She waited until she heard the door click shut before she allowed the first sob to break free from her throat.
The Amell library was small by upper class standards, but the cheerful fireplace and plush chairs gave it a cozy atmosphere. The acrid odor of dry parchment permeated the room, tempered by the faint, musty smell of ale drifting down from the barrels set in an alcove upstairs. Lia waited comfortably in a velvet, burgundy armchair by the hearth while Bodahn brought in her unexpected guest. She gave her visitor a respectful nod and gestured to a chair facing hers. He returned her nod with an anxious smile and perched on the edge of the chair.
"Welcome, First Enchanter. Would you like a glass of wine or a mug of ale?" Lia beckoned to Bodahn.
"That is most kind of you, Serah Hawke. A glass of wine would be excellent."
"Bodahn, two glasses of red wine, please." The stout dwarf bowed and disappeared. Lia assessed Orsino curiously. She had met him before, but this was the first time he had come to her home. His face was smooth and ageless in the manner of all elves, but the strain showed in the lines around his mouth, and his eyes were dulled with worry.
"Is there something I can help you with?"
"Serah Hawke, please believe me when I say that I wouldn't impose on you if the situation weren't so desperate. Things simply cannot continue as they are." His hands twitched in agitation.
"I assume you mean the ongoing tension between the templars and the magi."
"It has grown far beyond tensions, I'm afraid. You have been fortunate to escape the clutches of the templars; however, your brothers and sisters in the Circle face a grim future."
Lia winced. She was very much aware that her status as Champion gave her more protection than any mage in Kirkwall. "What is happening to upset you so much, First Enchanter?"
"Few magi are allowed to leave the Gallows now, and those who do must have permission directly from Meredith. Every mage is subject to being searched at any time, even in the middle of the night. Accusations of blood magic are made daily and these magi are removed for interrogation. They are never seen again." Orsino lowered his head into his hands.
Lia bit her lip. "And what does Meredith say to all of this?"
"She claims to have evidence, but she refuses to provide it." Orsino raised his head, and Lia was shocked to see tears. "Forgive me for being so emotional, Serah Hawke, but I am responsible for every mage in Kirkwall, and I am powerless to save them! There are those who encourage me to take more... aggressive measures, but I wish to avoid outright war. However, as time passes and more of my people disappear, how can I continue to stand by and do nothing?"
His words shook her heart. Orsino's frustration echoed that of Anders and resonated in her soul. She could not remain hidden behind her name and ignore the suffering of the Circle.
Before she could respond, Bodahn entered with their drinks and left with a short bow. Orsino wiped his face with his sleeve and drained the goblet in a single desperate gulp. Troubled, Lia sipped her wine while she watched Orsino twirl the stem of his empty glass.
"Did you know that I'm the youngest mage ever to become First Enchanter of the Kirkwall Circle?" Orsino barked out a derisive laugh. "Some achievement that turned out to be. You want to know why I really got the position?" He stood abruptly and moved to stand in front of the fire. The flames flickered over his face, deepening the shadows under his emerald eyes. "No one else would take it, which isn't surprising considering that Meredith had assumed command of the templars only a year prior to the previous First Enchanter's death. Some say he died from despair."
"So the position fell to you?"
"I didn't want it, but I was still young enough to believe that there was hope for peace. I thought that surely, if I reasoned with Meredith and made a real effort to address her concerns, the situation would improve." He shook his head. "I was so naïve."
"Perhaps it's not too late."
He sighed and turned to face her. "That's what I kept telling myself year after year, Serah Hawke; but things have only worsened recently. Meredith has become… obsessed with ridding Kirkwall of magi." When Lia opened her mouth to protest, he waved at her dismissively. "Oh, she won't actually say that she wishes to remove all of them, but the sentiment is there, believe me."
"First Enchanter, I grew up as an apostate, but that does not mean that I feel nothing for the magi of the Circle. Tell me what I can do."
"It is why I am here, Serah Hawke. Meredith is hardly unaware of your influence, and I feel certain that it is only a matter of time before she approaches you to assess whether she can use you as an ally."
"But I'm a mage, one of those she hates…"
"…which makes you invaluable. If even the Champion of Kirkwall, an apostate, condemns the Circle for the use of blood magic, then why would anyone else in Kirkwall dispute it? She can deal with you later after the Circle falls under her sword."
"And if I become your ally? What would you have me do?"
"For now? Nothing. But the day is surely coming when the templars will draw their weapons and the magi will draw their staves. We may need you then, Serah Hawke. Can I count on your support?"
Lia stood and laid a hand on his arm. "My staff will fight beside yours, First Enchanter. I will not allow Meredith to destroy the Circle."
Orsino grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips. "You have brought some ease to my mind, Serah. I am grateful beyond words for your support. If my humble position may provide you with any assistance, please do not hesitate to let me know. I trust you know where my office is?"
"I do, although I doubt it provides you with much privacy, given that it sits across the hall from Meredith." Lia grinned as Orsino chuckled softly.
"Indeed, I am sure that the two of us spend most of our days glaring through our closed doors at each other!" Orsino gave her a courteous bow. "I must attend to some errands before Meredith starts to wonder where I am. Thank you for your time, Serah Hawke." He turned to leave and then hesitated. "By the way, I believe the apostate who runs a clinic in Darktown is a friend of yours?" Lia nodded. "Find him another home, Serah. He has escaped Meredith's attention thus far, but her eye has searched him out at last. I would suggest that he stay here if possible. Meredith does not yet have the power to challenge the Champion."
"Thank you, First Enchanter. I will take care of him." She watched him leave, the dragon heads of his staff lending an ominous air to his exit.
"So you will side with the magi when the time comes." The voice like smooth, dark chocolate floated down from upstairs.
Lia turned to face Fenris as he descended with a scowl. "What would you have me do? Fight alongside a fanatic bent on destroying every man, woman, and child who has the ability to cast a spell? Even Cullen admitted that Meredith is becoming crazed in her accusations; you heard him."
"Perhaps her charge is not unwarranted. Desperate magi are known to turn to blood magic to save themselves."
"You heard Orsino; she doesn't provide any proof! If she is truly righteous, why isn't she showing Kirkwall the evidence against the magi?"
Fenris held up a hand. "All I'm saying is that she deserves a fair hearing."
"If she wishes to see me, then I will listen. She better have some proof ready, however." She sighed and went to stand before him, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "I know how you feel about magi, Fenris. Let's not repeat this argument."
"At least tell me you won't be allowing Anders to stay here. He is trouble, Hawke."
"Yes, I am going to invite him to stay in the guest room." Fenris narrowed his eyes, and she placed her fingers against his lips. "He's my friend; surely you don't suggest that we leave him to the mercy of the templars!"
She could hear him grinding his teeth in frustration. "Fine, let the man stay, but if he so much as touches you…" The lines of lyrium glowed faintly.
She grabbed both sides of his head between her hands, pulling his face to hers. "There is only one person who can touch me in a way that makes me ache, and that person is an elf with the most beautiful green eyes I've ever seen."
"You mean Orsino?"
"Dirty rotten bastard," she growled as she yanked him closer and nipped at his lower lip.
The woman who entered The Blooming Rose in Kirkwall's Red Lantern district attracted little attention from the scantily dressed elves and humans searching for clients. She had appeared here before and words had been exchanged with Madame Lusine. Coin changed hands, and all employees were given strict instructions to ignore the woman on future visits. The whores needed no further incentive; anyone who could afford to pay off Madame Lusine for silence was someone who should not be crossed.
She wore a simple gown of unassuming ochre, covered by an earthy, brown cloak. To the untrained eye, she appeared quite harmless, but the man seated at the back corner table saw the subtle outlines of two daggers beneath the shifting fabric. The hood of her cloak concealed her face, but wisps of raven hair escaped the confining cover. She walked directly to the table where the man waited and gave him a quick nod. He gestured casually to the chair across the table from him. The woman hesitated, glancing warily around the large room.
"I have already been here for two hours, and I can assure you that this location is safe at the moment." The man was bald and slightly overweight, and his face was quite plain. His eyes glinted with shrewdness, however, and the woman knew that he most likely had more than one weapon concealed on his person. She sat down in the offered chair and pushed back the hood of her cloak. Beautifully braided, midnight hair was gathered in a bun at the nape of her neck, and her eyes were a soft shade of honey. Her skin was flawless and pale, and her lips were painted a deep ruby.
"I am honored by your presence, Master Ignacio." The lilt of her voice held the cultured accent of Orlais. "I had not expected that my contract would attract the attention of a cell as prominent as your own."
"The Guild has failed to honor your contract twice. Such… incompetence is unseemly in our line of business." Ignacio pushed a glass of burgundy wine across the table. "I have taken the liberty of ordering you a rare vintage of Orlesian wine."
The woman raised the goblet to her lips and sipped it with pleasure. "It is quite excellent, Master Ignacio. I thank you for your generosity. It is a comforting reminder of home."
"You have traveled quite a distance to Kirkwall, my Lady. This is the third time you have arranged a meeting here with my Guild, is it not?"
"Correct. I sincerely hope that this will be the last. I chose the Crows because they are the best, but I have yet to witness this."
"My apologies for disappointing you, my Lady. The cells who accepted your contract were minor ones, lacking the proper training and experience. They sought to further their repute but instead, they have earned the disdain of their fellows. I decided that it was time to handle the situation myself before further ridicule could affect the Crows' reputation."
"This is wonderful news, Master Ignacio. Your cell will fulfill the contract then?"
"Actually, that is not why I am here, my Lady." Ignacio reached to his belt and withdrew a small leather pouch. He slid it across the table to the woman. "This is the money you paid the Guild to carry out your contract. You may count it; I will personally vouch for every coin."
The woman's creamy skin flushed an ugly red. "Exactly what is the meaning of this? You refuse my contract?"
Ignacio calmly folded his hands on the table. "The majority of the Guild was unaware of the specifics of your contract until word surfaced of the two failures. Once the head Masters learned of it, strict commands were sent to all cells to refuse the contract. I was sent to return your funds. We are not thieves, my Lady."
The woman gripped the pouch tightly, her hands trembling with fury. "May I ask why it is refused?"
Ignacio leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice. "There are two reasons. First, you asked for the assassination of the Ferelden monarchy, and the Crows do not take royal assignments lightly. In particular, we do not take action of any sort against King Alistair lightly. You see, the King and the Hero of Ferelden provided a service to us during the Blight. In return, they earned our infinite respect. I'm afraid that I cannot condone a contract that would take his life."
"And the second reason?"
"It has come to our attention that one of our former assassins has taken a place in King Alistair's court. Exactly what his function is, I do not know, but we have learned from past error that it is unwise to provoke him."
"You mean Zevran Arainai." Her voice twisted with disgust. "It is unbelievable that a Guild as powerful as the Crows would fear one elf."
Ignacio's face darkened. "Do not ridicule the Guild, Madame, and do not underestimate Arainai. If he were still a member of the Guild, he would be Master of his own cell, and I doubt not that his power would outshine most of ours. We have learned to our regret, that it is better to release a clever dog than to lose all of our limbs to his sharp teeth."
"So your Guild will not accept my request, even if I raise your payment?"
"I'm afraid not, my Lady."
"And does your… regard… for the Ferelden King mean that you will be passing along your knowledge of my intentions?"
"Of course not. The confidentiality of our clients is paramount to our success, whether we accept or deny a contract. The specifics of your request and your identity will not be revealed to anyone."
The woman stuffed the pouch into the belt of her gown and stood.
"Well, I must say that I am most disappointed, Master Ignacio. However, I do appreciate your assurance of secrecy. Fortunately, I have been careful to not reveal my identity to your Guild." She lifted the corner of her mouth in a sneer. "Not that I don't trust your word, of course."
"Quite so, my Lady Marjolaine," replied Ignacio with a benign smile. "Those of us in this profession can little afford to place our trust so lightly in someone we have only just met."
The woman clenched her fists and tightened her lips, her eyes flashing in anger. She yanked her cowl back over her head and strode out of the brothel in short, jerky steps. Ignacio raised his wine to his nose and sniffed it appreciatively. Women are always much too emotional, he thought in amusement.
Even though he had only just recently passed his Harrowing, Connor was already anxious to achieve the rank of Senior Enchanter. He couldn't care less about the distinction; it was the privilege of having his own room that he craved. The barracks afforded little privacy, and the only storage available was the standard chest at the foot of each cot. Fortunately, there was a good-sized oaken desk next to his bed for him to spread out his books when he studied. Once magi had completed their Harrowings, they were no longer required to attend classes but most continued to study on their own. Connor had always been interested in the Fade, so he had immersed himself in what books he could find on the subject.
He was taking notes on an interesting theory about using the Fade to communicate with other magi across great distances when he heard soft footsteps behind him. Turning around, he found himself confronted with a lovely, red-haired woman wearing the leather armor preferred by rogues. She smiled at him in greeting.
"Excuse me, but are you Connor?" Her voice was musical and had an Orlesian accent.
"Yes," he replied. "Who are you?"
"My name is Leliana, and I'm a friend of the First Enchanter." His face darkened at the mention of Rielle, and he scooted his chair back from the desk roughly.
"I suppose she sent you to talk to me?" He had avoided Rielle since his Harrowing and they had not spoken since. He had passed her in the halls, but when she looked at him pleadingly, he turned away. The demon's words still simmered in his heart, and when he dreamed, he saw his mother, blood exploding from her chest.
"May I sit?" He sighed and gestured to a nearby chair, and she pulled it close to him. "She told me that your Harrowing revealed to you what happened all those years ago."
"Then you know about it also?" His voice dripped with bitterness. "It seems like everyone does except me, and I was Isolde's son!"
"Only those who were there know about it, Connor. I believe Rielle told the Knight Commander as well."
"So you were there?"
"I was one of Rielle's companions during the Blight and yes, I was there." She touched his cheek gently. "You look very much like Isolde, you know, and she was quite beautiful."
He swallowed thickly and stared down at the floor. "I barely remember her."
"She made a mistake, but she loved you very much. She died that you might live free from the demon."
"She died because of me." He closed his eyes, furious at the tears that gathered behind his eyelids.
"What happened was nobody's fault, least of all, yours. You were only a child, Connor. As a mage, you know how powerful demons can be. What defense could a child have against one? You wanted to save your father, as any boy would want. The demon took advantage of that."
"I don't remember what happened or even how a demon was able to contact me."
"You had powers, Connor, powers that should have been recognized. Rielle said that she was astonished at how strong you were at your age. Isolde didn't want to lose you to the Circle, so she tried to hide your magic. She had good intentions, but even good intentions can go wrong."
"They should have gotten help from the Circle instead of letting the blood mage kill my mother to send Rielle to the Fade." Connor glared at Leliana through tear-blurred eyes.
"There wasn't time, Connor. By the time they might have returned, the demon would have possessed you completely and destroyed the city. Rielle made the choice to save you, at your mother's request."
Connor lowered his head into his hands. "How my father must have hated me…"
"Of course not!" Leliana reached out to stroke his hair. "No one blames you, Connor. If anything, Rielle blames only herself. She cried herself to sleep that night, you know, after it was all over. I held her until she fell asleep, and she never spoke of it again."
"I blamed her too." Connor raised his head, and Leliana brushed the tears from his face. "I was so angry… I hated myself, so I lashed out at her."
"Trust me, you could not cause her any more suffering than she causes herself. She always was the one who carried all the burdens, and she carries them still." She reached for a handkerchief from her belt and handed it to him.
"Thank you, for telling me about it." Connor dried his face and returned the damp handkerchief sheepishly.
"No problem at all." She stood and stretched slightly. "I'm here with the Warden Commander of Ferelden to speak to Rielle about some things we have discovered. Rielle mentioned that it would be helpful if you came to our meeting tonight. You are very intuitive, she says."
"If you think it would be okay…"
"I think it would be splendid."
A/N: Sorry for the late update, but I've been away on vacation. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed or added this story as an alert! As always, a special thanks to my beta, zevgirl, who keeps my stories in line. Feel free to leave advice for me; I want to improve!