"When you live long enough, you have the time to study spells you might only need on rare occasions. Most of the humans are happy enough just to throw fire or lightning." Felassan (Dragon Age The Masked Empire)

Ten

Impasse

"Ser Curtis is dead?" Tal asked, shock making his voice thin. "How did he—"

"That is not what we are here to discuss at present," the Seeker cut him off with a dismissive wave of one armored hand.

The glint of that metal armor made Solas' spine stiffen, recalling Bartholomew's presence behind him. Bartholomew evened the odds in this group between magic users and melee weapons: three on three. And, because Solas was currently near-Tranquil, the actual odds were two against three. Solas could almost smell the tension suddenly and shifted his weight from one foot to another, trying to release some of his anxiety with the tiny motion.

Unfortunately it drew the Seeker's gaze, narrowed and suspicious. "The Knight-Commander has told me you three were involved in an altercation with Ser Curtis just two days ago." She paused, letting the words sink in, one eyebrow cocked. "I find this a peculiar coincidence."

Drawing in a breath, Solas calmed himself by letting his memories spool quickly over his mind's eye. This is nothing compared to facing Elgar'nan, Falon'Din, or Andruil, he reminded himself. The icy sensation in his stomach dissipated and his heart slowed. His body relaxed.

"Yeah," Tal agreed with the Seeker, sounding genuine in his bafflement. "It is a weird coincidence." He blinked at the Knight-Commander and the Seeker, shrugging. "But I still don't see why you summoned us…?"

Quashing the desire to cringe at Tal's naivety, regardless of whether it was real or fabricated, Solas decided he was composed enough now to risk speaking. Clearing his throat, he asked in an even voice, "Surely you aren't suggesting we are involved?"

Tal twisted to glance at Solas, frowning with what appeared to be real confusion. "How could we be? I mean, we're locked up every night in the barracks. It's impossible." He broke off chuckling with a note of anxiousness. "Fenedhis, I don't even know where the Templars sleep, or where any of them are stationed…"

Solas didn't miss the way the Seeker looked to Kali at Tal's comment 'Templars sleep,' and he restrained the cold shudder of dread that washed over him. Tal could have just been rambling and truly possessed no knowledge of how Curtis had been killed, but Solas doubted it and the Seeker appeared to as well. Now they had to be wondering if Tal had more knowledge of Curtis' death than he should have. He clenched his jaw, hoping Tal hadn't just accidentally implicated himself.

The Knight-Commander shook her head. "We are still investigating at this point, apprentice. However, we must pursue all possibilities, no matter how remote." Pausing a moment, she reached for something below her desk and Solas heard the hollow grinding noise of a drawer opening. A moment later she produced a leather-bound logbook and flipped it open. Even upside down and from several meters away, Solas could guess she was reading over the account of two days ago when Curtis and Ser Jade had hauled the three elves up here regarding the pendant.

"I've not heard anything from you," the Seeker said, motioning toward Rosa.

Rosa thrust out her chin, her jaw muscles snapping taut and her violet eyes dark. "What would you have me say?" she asked. "Did the Knight-Commander tell you about why we had an altercation with Ser Curtis?"

"You possessed contraband," the Seeker said gruffly, glaring somberly with disapproval. "Ser Curtis was rather harsh when he attempted to remove it."

Rosa crossed her arms over her chest and cocked one hip out. "I understand you're supposed to be a seeker of truth. I don't know what you shemlen think that means, but to me it means understanding the full context. You want to know why I'm not broken up about hearing Curtis is dead? Why I haven't said anything? It's not about the damned pendant or him being harsh as you put it."

"Then what is it about?" the Seeker asked, her lip curling slightly with exasperation.

Emboldened, Rosa went on in a fiery voice. "The truth is in everything you didn't hear about—what I'm sure no one told the Knight-Commander about either. Tell me, Seeker, did you hear about the way Curtis beat me in the cells when I was first brought in? Or about the way he groped my ass and pinched my breasts? And after talking with some of the other apprentices I know that wasn't uncommon behavior for that asshole."

The Seeker and the Knight-Commander stared at Rosa with uncomfortable expressions, struggling for neutrality. Solas dropped his own gaze to the floor, feeling heat creep across his face. He was speaking before realizing he was doing it, his voice soft but with an undercurrent of cold rage. "What she says is true. You will find we feel no pity for Ser Curtis. I suspect his behavior was not restricted solely to Rosa. Whatever the circumstances of his death, I expect you will discover he had a plethora of enemies within this tower."

"Seeker Pentaghast," Kali said, her voice strained as if with pain. Her cheeks were beet red, her eyes furious. "I cannot verify any of what these two—"

"Three," Tal interrupted, edging closer to his sister. "I witnessed that sick bastard fondling her. I begged him to stop—" He cut himself off with a choking sound. He was shaking, his composure hanging by a thread. His hands curled into fists at his side. "I dawdled in the baths so I could walk with her, to try and protect her, to keep her from being alone with him. If I hadn't been there—he could, he would have…"

The Seeker held up a hand, palm out, in a motion commanding silence. Her expression was hard, brow furrowed and lips twisted downward. Yet her eyes had crinkled with a softer emotion—sympathy. "I believe you, apprentice." Her gaze transferred to Rosa and Solas next. "All of you."

Rosa's expression, which had been steely and clouded with quiet rage softened now. Her arms fell to her side and she nodded to the Seeker. "Thank you."

Huffing, the Knight-Commander interjected irritably, "If we've quite finished with vilifying Ser Curtis, I'd like to continue." She had produced an inkwell and quill while they spoke and now held it poised over the parchment in her logbook. "Seeker Pentaghast, what do you wish to note about this interview?"

The Seeker slid back in her seat without breaking eye contact with Rosa. Then, abruptly, she switched her hawk-like gaze to the Knight-Commander. "I believe much of what these three had to say regarding Ser Curtis' misbehavior toward female mages should be recorded and investigated. As you said earlier, all possibilities must be pursued and based on this new testimony I suspect Ser Curtis may have had more enemies than we are aware."

The Knight-Commander scowled but began writing, the quill scratching as it traced over the parchment. To the three elves the Seeker indicated the door. "You are all free to go."

As Solas turned to leave he saw Bartholomew's pinched lips and tight expression and wondered what went on behind the other man's stoic mask. Did he recall Curtis' cruelty, or had he blinded himself to it? Had he wanted to speak out but feared reprisal from the Knight-Commander? Solas couldn't be certain.

Out in the hallway they were silent as they trudged down the long circling flights of stairs toward the lower levels, which held the dining hall and the apprentices' barracks. Solas' aching thighs and stiff knees distracted him. Even grasping the bannister running alongside the stairs did little to help him keep up with the nimbler Dalish siblings. Still, he was close enough to the bottom that he saw it when Tal suddenly lunged for Rosa, snatching her forearm, and pushed her into a wall beside a bookshelf.A heartbeat later Solas heard a gentle whump-pop of a spell and felt magic caress his skin. The air shimmered in a bubble overtop the siblings.

Tal's lips moved, his face twisting with anger and pain, but Solas couldn't hear a single word of it. Solas' mouth fell open before he could stop it as he recognized the spell—sound deadening. Clutching the bannister, Solas hesitated at the edge of the casting, his skin tingling with the nearness of it. He knew Tal well enough to recognize the youth's magic, the unique feel of it like a personal scent or a fingerprint. Tal had cast this spell to gain a moment of privacy to confront Rosa—likely about the fact she'd killed Curtis—and Solas wanted to respect their desire for privacy even as curiosity twisted inside his stomach.

Tal seemed to be yelling at her, as agitated as Solas had ever seen him. He loomed over Rosa as much as his slight height advantage allowed, inside her personal space and with both hands on her shoulders, gripping tightly. He gave her a little shake and Rosa slammed a palm down on his chest, pivoting to one side simultaneously, freeing herself from his grasp. Her posture was defensive and angry as well. She slashed with a hand in a gesture that seemed to indicate Solas. Confirming that, Solas saw Tal's brown eyes fly briefly toward him before refocusing on his sister and shaking his head. It seemed that whatever Rosa had to say, Tal didn't much like it or possibly didn't believe it.

Rosa whipped around and started to walk away, but before she could reach the edge of the sound bubble, Tal grabbed her again. They had another heated exchange with Tal doing most of the talking, but with the youth's back to Solas he had little chance of understanding it. Yet, it seemed that whatever Tal said this time finally had an effect on Rosa. Her posture eased and her expression softened until her eyes grew a touch too bright, as if with unshed tears.

Then she pulled him into an embrace, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. Tal reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her shoulders in turn and resting his chin atop her head, eyes closed. It was a personal gesture, a scene Solas felt he was intruding upon, but he found himself unable to turn away as the emotional impact of the sibling reconciliation settled on him. Solas had been an only-child, as so many in Elvhenan's middle class were, and seeing Rosa and Tal's connection made something inside him ache with envy that he had never known this type of relationship. He had forged countless strong bonds of friendship in his long life, with physical beings and spirits alike, but the idea of sharing blood and a full history with another person…

He shook off the thought, frowning to himself as he finally managed to pry his gaze away and stare at the cold gray stone beneath his slipper-bound feet. Only a few moments later the caress of the magic over his skin faded and Solas glanced up in time to catch the last glimmering sparkles of the spell fade away. Tal and Rosa stood a few meters from him, as if waiting on him to reach them.

"Come along, Revas," Tal said with a grin that almost reached his eyes, but wasn't quite enough to hide the slight redness of them that hinted at recent upset.

"Yeah, flat-ear," Rosa added, smirking. "We're going to miss lunch." Like her brother, Rosa's eyes had a red-rimmed, bloodshot quality that belied her jovialness.

"And whose fault will it be if we do?" Solas mock-chided before scoffing with feigned annoyance. "Mine, I suppose?"

"Yep," Rosa said as she fell in line beside Solas, extending her arm to help him walk. "Who else's fault would it be?"

Solas accepted her arm, glad for the support as they took off at a fast clip for the dining hall.

In his deep storytelling voice, Tal said, "Once, long ago, there were no dwarves and no shemlen. Only the People walked the world, and the first of us—the greatest of us—were the Creators."

"Wait up a minute, Stoic," Varric said, lifting one meaty palm with the palm outward to halt Tal's story. The other hand remained clasped about the quill, hovering over the parchment to take down notes. "Remind me who these characters are? I'm a little fuzzy on the elven pantheon."

Solas stabbed broccoli with his fork and ate it, chewing the fibrous vegetable and saying nothing as he feigned disinterest. He wasn't the least bit curious about Tal's tale, but he was intrigued with observing Rosa's reactions to it and found himself wishing she would engage with the storytelling. Her clan might have preserved a more accurate history and very different tales because of its recent Elvhen ancestry. But, so far, Rosa seemed preoccupied with using her spoon to scoop up what was left of the cheese sauce used on the vegetables.

Killing Curtis and Fade walking had likely left her drained. Solas knew from personal experience how famished one could be after a night of haunting others' dreams.

"They're gods," Tal corrected the dwarf, though his voice held no heat. "For this story you only need to know who Elgar'nan and Mythal are, really. Elgar'nan is the All-Father, the first elf to ever walk the earth. He was the son of the sun and the earth, created where they joined. Mythal is the All-Mother, the second elf to ever walk the earth and Elgar'nan's wife. She was born of the sea. She's the protector and the merciful one."

"Except when you're an asshole," Rosa cut in. "Then she's all rage and fury, just like Elgar'nan."

Solas bit the insides of his cheeks to keep from smiling.

Varric grunted, writing quickly with a scratch of the quill. "Sounds about right. The strong, angry dad and the righteous, wise mother. Classic literature theme right there."

"Anyway," Tal went on. "In those days the People lived underground as well. The People there dug deep into the cracks left after Elgar'nan's battle with his father, the sun. They sought riches and metal and created enormous cities as they mined it. One day Mythal went to visit one of these belowground cities. There she met with the nobleman in charge of it and asked for tithes in tribute that she might share the great beauty of the belowground cities with the surface folk. But the nobleman was selfish and he believed Mythal asked too much. He held no respect for the Creators and all they had done in shaping the world and fighting the evil Forgotten Ones. So, he decided to trick her. He—"

"Is this the tale about the trickster wolf god?" Varric asked, rubbing his face with his free hand, making the stubble scrape against his palm. "Because I'm pretty sure Daisy told me that one."

Solas withheld a sigh and switched to using his spoon on his stew.

"No," Tal answered with a shake of his head. "This is the story of how dwarves came to be."

Varric chuckled dryly. "I'm pretty sure I know how dwarves came to be, Stoic. I'll tell you how it works when you're older."

Rosa snorted. "Are you kidding, Varric?" She used her spoon to point at Tal. "He'll try to seduce a halla if he thinks he has a shot with it. I'm surprised he hasn't made a move on you or Revas yet."

Solas choked on his latest mouthful, coughing and grimacing. Catching his breath, he saw Rosa grinning mischievously at him while Varric wore an amused smile. Solas fumbled for a napkin, wiping at his mouth and trying to ignore the hot blush stealing over his cheeks.

Tal, beside him, shrugged. "Guilty as charged, I guess. But this isn't the sort of place that inspires much flirting." He swirled his spoon through his own stew as he added, "Besides, I don't see any halla around here, so my options are pretty limited."

Now Varric guffawed, slapping his meaty hand on the table with enjoyment. "All right, Stoic, stop trying to kill us all with laughter." He took a swig from his flask and sighed with satisfaction as he put it back down. "On with the story. I want to hear how elves think dwarves were created."

Leaning forward with fresh zeal, Tal resumed the tale. "The nobleman found simple crystals that had little or no value and painted them so he wouldn't lose anything to the surface dwellers. Then, when he handed it over to Mythal, he demanded she give his people greater tithes of food in exchange. It was many times more than what the meager gems were worth, even had they been real. Mythal understood that he hoped to feed his people—after all, we cannot eat stone, cannot drink it—but she saw through his ploy, for she was wise beyond the nobleman's meager understanding.

"So, in her generousness, Mythal confronted him and said that if he provided what they'd originally agreed upon—real gems this time—she would give him more food for his people. But the nobleman was affronted and humiliated that she had seen through him, so he rejected her offer. Then, he set his entire city upon her, hoping to slay her. Overwhelmed, Mythal tried to flee but could not. The nobleman found that even with all the warriors of his city, he could not slay her."

"Because, of course, you cannot kill a god," Varric supplied. "Convenient, for the gods anyway."

Tal nodded. "The nobleman locked her away then, to keep her from fleeing to the surface. But Elgar'nan saw Mythal in a dream and learned the truth. He was so incensed that he used magic to become a dragon and descended deep into the underground to punish not just the nobleman, but the whole city and all those who lived beneath the earth."

Varric whistled. "Somehow I think incensed wasn't a strong enough description. Guy sounds like he lost his shit."

"Elgar'nan was perpetually pissed off," Rosa put in, smirking. "His name in our language literally means spirit of vengeance."

Solas mulled over the stew in his mouth, watching the two elves and the dwarf as they talked and trying not to picture the actual man these three spoke of. Solas had been born in Elgar'nan's lands, the last Evanuris to be discovered although Ghilan'nain was actually younger—not that age mattered in those days. Elgar'nan had been a distant figure, a literal god when he was a child, but his parents had known otherwise and whispered the truth to him when he was old enough to understand it. Elgar'nan was very old, born of the Fade and very powerful, but he was no god and as flawed as any Elvhen man or woman. Much later, after coming to Arlathan's court, Solas had seen the man, resplendent in his armor but ever-scowling. Only Mythal seemed to be able to ease that expression. His affection for her must have been vast, but it hadn't stopped him from banding together with the other Evanuris, particularly Falon'Din, and killing Mythal for harboring Solas' armies and keeping his secrets.

"Good to know," Varric said, chuckling as the quill scratched some more. Slowly, as if in time with the quill, he repeated, "Note to self: Never. Piss. Off. Elven. God."

Too late for me on that account, Solas thought but kept his expression deadpan as he continued eating. He'd angered and offended and challenged all eight other Evanuris, including Mythal on more than one occasion. Idly, he considered how entertaining it'd be to tell Varric what a thrill it was to humiliate men and women who styled themselves gods. Why yes, you have not lived, Master Tethras, until you have publicly refused an invitation from Andruil and Ghilan'nain. Or bested Dirthamen in a game of wits and watched with glee as the tales of his resulting temper tantrum spread far and wide.

"Sounds about right," Tal said with an approving nod before launching into the rest of his story: "Elgar'nan slew the nobleman and ruined the city, killing everyone within it. This allowed Mythal to escape her place of imprisonment and as Elgar'nan raged, intent on destroying every last elf living belowground, the All-Mother embraced him and urged mercy. She said that the nobleman and his people and his city had already paid the punishment needed. The others living belowground would know better than to repeat the same mistakes.

"But Elgar'nan's pride had been wounded at the insult to his beloved wife, and he would not be pacified. So, to save the remaining elves, Mythal cast a powerful magic upon them. She made them small and stocky, so they could hide in cracks far too small and deep for Elgar'nan to reach. She sundered them forever from the Fade, to protect them from Elgar'nan's wrath even in dreams, so that he could never find them. In her great wisdom, she knew also that these new creatures would need a way to guide themselves in that vast darkness without sun or moon or stars. So Mythal gave them an innate ability to know the stone, to craft and shape it, much the way sleepers navigate and shape the Fade."

"And so it was Mythal created the first dwarves, or, as we call your kind, durgen'len. Children of the Stone," Rosa said.

"Well," Varric said as he set the quill down. "Seems as good an explanation as anything." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head and kicked his feet up on the table, taking advantage of the fact that his seat and the table were both too large for him. "But your All-Mother must have missed me on the Stone sense bit." He chuckled. "I'm just as lost and confused as any of you would be underground."

Solas said nothing, though he doubted Varric was being truthful. The handful of dwarves Solas had encountered in Elvhenan were always expert navigators belowground and seemed to see every rock as unique, knowing its qualities, strengths, and faults at a mere glance. Then again, perhaps the dwarves had diminished in this miserable post-Veil world just as the elves had. He wanted to ask, but couldn't find a way to do so without revealing he was a Dreamer—too dangerous a revelation in the Circle tower.

"So," Rosa said, dragging out the single word as she scraped her fork along the leftover brown sauce of her stew. "Varric. Do you know how long you and the Seeker will be hanging around our tower?"

"Looking to get rid of me, Violet?" Varric asked, arching one bushy eyebrow. He clucked his tongue. "And here I thought we were starting to bond."

"I like you," Tal rejoined with a playful leer.

"See?" Varric said, motioning at Tal. "I can't be half bad if your clansman is flirting with me."

Solas resisted the desire to roll his eyes, knowing full-well the underlying reason Rosa would ask about Varric and the Seeker. She hoped that the Seeker would leave soon and end the investigation into Curtis' death. Of course, Solas worried what would happen when the Seeker did leave. Would the Knight-Commander simply pile the blame on the three of them, even with little or no evidence that Curtis' death was their fault? Though the Seeker had seemed swayed by Rosa's story of abuse at Curtis' hands, it was also an obvious motive for murder. Better to have professed ignorance and dispassion, but Rosa was clearly not one to shy away from truths like that—not when they had a connection with her fears.

"It's not that," Rosa said with a shake of her head and a lopsided smile. Her gaze slid to Tal, silently asking for aid.

With a slight nod, Tal said, "We're just curious, Varric. The Seeker has the tower on edge. We're just wondering when things will go back to normal—even if we're dreading it because it means you leave."

"Okay, okay," Varric said with a sigh, smirking as he changed position, dropping his booted feet back to the floor. "Honestly? I haven't a clue. The Seeker told me Hasmal was just a quick stop. She's looking for the Champion of Kirkwall and the Hero of Ferelden and apparently she heard a rumor that Hawke passed through here. That should've been dealt with by now, so I can't even guess what's keeping her at this point."

He shrugged his beefy shoulders and grabbed his flask from his tray, palming it as if considering taking a long swig. His gaze stayed glued to his food tray, glazing over in the beat of silence before he blinked and looked between the three of them, skipping over Solas because he'd said little and feigned only mild interest. "My guess is she's run into a distraction or something along those lines. If something popped up here related to the shit that went down in Kirkwall you can be sure she'd be on it like darkspawn on an Old God."

Solas frowned at that. Could the Seeker have taken upon herself the duty of investigating Ser Curtis' death because she felt it was somehow related to the simmering tension between mages and Templars? Fenedhis…

Before any of them could remark on Varric's comments regarding the Seeker, a mage appeared in the dining hall entrance and clapped her hands loudly, shouting for the apprentices to file out and return to their usual duties. As usual, Varric let out a long sigh of satisfaction and propped his feet up again, smiling smugly at the three of them. "That's the cue for my afternoon nap. See you folks at dinner."

"Looking forward to it, Varric," Tal said with a bright smile.

As Solas rose to his feet, shuffling out with everyone else, Rosa nimbly hurdled her way over the long tables, managing to only clatter a few trays in the action. Solas halted, staring at her with mild disapproval even as his lips twitched up in a small smile. How he envied the ease and grace of her strong, lithe body. Envied and…appreciated it.

Heat leapt into his cheeks at that thought. To hide it he scowled, feigning greater irritation with her than he felt as she squeezed into the narrow aisle beside him between one long table and the next. "Was that truly necessary, lethallan?" he asked her grumpily.

She extended her arm out to him. "Yes," she answered. "Because otherwise Tal would beat me to it." As they started walking again the hall filled with the rustle of the apprentices' robes and slipper-clad feet as well as the quiet hush of their conversations. With a playful gleam in her violet eyes, Rosa said, "Surely you've noticed how hard he's been trying to seduce you, flat-ear."

Solas let out a longsuffering sigh as he accepted her arm. "How unfortunate for him then that I am immune to all his boyish charms." Gripping her tighter, Solas pressed close to speak quietly into her ear. "What of Rogathe?"

When she twisted her head around quickly, Solas found himself near enough that he could feel her breath pluming over his cheeks, smell the lingering scent of her meal on her lips. It should have been less than appealing, yet somehow it flooded Solas' mouth with saliva and sent his heart racing, stomach clenching.

"Gone," she said, the coy smile spreading over her lips. Solas' eyes locked on those lips with longing. He felt Rosa's amusement as a sort of warm-tension in the air around them—not unlike magic—and recognized it as the spark of connection, of attraction. He'd thought such interpersonal, passive magic impossible with the Veil present, but as with so many things since waking he realized he was wrong. Perhaps it was only that Rosa was a fellow mage and Dreamer, and had recent Elvhen ancestors that he could feel such a powerful desire? Or maybe it was simply his own body, betraying him and misleading his mind in this quickened world—

"Are you still puttering about in the library?" she asked, edging backward slightly to direct her words more into his ear. Her hot breath caressed the skin of his jaw, ear, neck, and part of his scalp. He swallowed, desperate to quash that obnoxious flutter of zinging want rising inside. He was no overeager youth, newly blossomed to sexual urges. He could control himself. Would control himself.

"I am," he answered, pleased with the evenness of his voice and not bothering to correct her that he'd moved onto sweeping. "But I'd advise you not to seek me out."

"Oh?" she asked, lighthearted and innocent.

They'd reached the exit, shuffling forward in the long line of older apprentices and rounding the corner out into the hallway. Two Templars stood watch, stoic and solemn as statues, but Solas could feel their eyes roving over the apprentices, silent and watchful. He made an effort to shamble, walking with a noticeably unsteady gait to ensure the Templars couldn't doubt his reason for walking so close to Rosa, clinging to her for support. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that Tal had fallen back, walking with two other elven apprentices, both several years younger.

As soon as they were safely past the watching Templars, deeper into the hallway, Solas pressed closer to Rosa again to speak quickly into her ear, his voice low. "After what you've done you should know how foolish it would be for you draw further attention to yourself with disobedience."

Her head whipped in his direction, eyebrows arching and mouth falling open a second before snapping shut again. Under her breath, she hissed, "And what have I done, exactly, Revas?"

Solas frowned at her, lips pinching into a hard line and his jaw clenching. They'd reached a stairwell, the gentle whisk and rustle of the apprentices' feet still echoing through the hall along with muffled, indistinct conversations. It was unlikely anyone would overhear anything Solas said as long as he spoke quietly enough, but he couldn't take that risk. Licking his lips, he remained vague and cagey. "You faced your fear."

She tilted her head, smiling at him, dark amusement dancing in her violet eyes. "I don't understand what you're trying to imply, flat-ear."

They started up the stairs together, Rosa gripping the bannister while Solas held onto her arm, using it as a railing. He swayed only slightly, his balance much recovered though his muscles kept up their continuous ache. That pain only seemed to increase with the hot flash of irritation that laced through him at her words. She is baiting me, he realized.

And she didn't trust him, at least not completely. If she had, she would have told him what she planned to do regarding Curtis, and she wouldn't be coy about it now.

But he had no one but himself to blame for that. He hadn't trusted her with the truth—couldn't trust her with it. Turnabout was fair play, as the common phrase went.

An impasse, then.

Shoulders deflating as he sighed, Solas finally answered her with: "Nothing, lethallan."

Rosa clucked her tongue as they reached the top of the staircase where the hallway divided. Here their paths parted, with Rosa heading down one hallway and Solas moving to the library in a different direction. "Well, in that case, I shall see you tonight," she said and stepped away from him, separating.

Solas nodded in her direction. "Dareth shiral."

She winked at him as she strode away. Solas lingered longer than he needed to, watching the sway of her hips and feeling an itchy sensation in his fingers, longing to touch her. Then, when he noticed Tal and the two elves accompanying him glance in his direction, he pivoted and walked in as steady and dignified of a pace as he could manage. Yet, he hadn't turned away quick enough to miss the way Tal smirked knowingly at him.

Pushing the image of the youth's smirk out of his mind to avoid the rush of heat from embarrassment at how easy he was to read, apparently, Solas returned to his duties. The thought that Rosa might sneak away to visit him kept popping back into Solas' mind, making him tense at every little sound in the library as patrons came and went. His heart was constantly hammering at his throat, his skin slick with sweat beneath his robes. It didn't help that the sweeping made his muscles twitch and ache, burning from exertion.

Fenedhis, he cursed as he wiped at the sweat accumulating at on his brow. He really needed that bath tonight.

Through the nervous tension and physical pain plaguing him, Solas noticed the number of Templars doing sweeps through the area had increased. The library had been a dull place the previous day, but now it seemed as though the Templars had designated it a hot spot of mage activity and scoped it out as such. Every fifteen minutes or so a Templar made a pass through the first floor and then ascended the stairwell to check in on the classrooms there. The men all appeared tense and glared at Solas with suspicion and barely concealed contempt.

By the time the mage who'd assigned his chores arrived to summon him for dinnertime, Solas had counted ten Templar passes through the library. He was relieved to be finished for the day as his arms and some muscles along his sides and back throbbed from overuse due to the sweeping. The mage escorting him lent him her arm in sympathy and kept her pace slow. Solas decided to question her about the increase in Templar patrols, to see if she had noted the same thing.

"I have," she replied with a nod, her expression pinched. "Rumor is there was a death in their ranks last night." She paused, shooting him a sidelong look. "An unexplained death. And, naturally, they suspect us. Because of course they do." The bitterness in her voice was unmistakable.

"Our talents frighten them," Solas agreed evenly. "They fear what they do not understand."

The woman stared at him, her eyes bright now. "You just came in a few weeks ago, right?" she asked and at his nod, she pressed on. "What was it like out there? I haven't left the tower since I was ten and my magic came in."

Judging by her youthful skin and the lack of gray in her hair, Solas guessed this woman was about thirty. He smiled at her politely. "What would you like to know?" For the remainder of their walk to the dining hall he regaled her with as many tales from beyond the Circle as he could believably claim to have knowledge of. He told her of villagers growing their crops, raising their children in peace. Of merchants crossing the Waking Sea to sell their wares. Of lovers in small towns, fiery and passionate, brave enough to fight and die for each other when the Blight swept through. Of lying beneath the open sky and watching the stars roll by overhead.

He purposefully left out the darker aspects: bandits lurking on the major roads, hungry bears roaming the hills, elves starving in alienages, and corrupt nobles getting innocent citizens killed in pointless land squabbles. It was a deliberate oversight, feeding her only pleasant things to inspire her with a desire to escape. To see the wondrous world beyond the tower with her own eyes. The glimmer of awe and wonder in her eyes told him he'd succeeded.

By the time he sat at his usual spot beside Tal, he must've worn a smug expression with his triumph because Rosa immediately commented, "Well, you look like the halla that got into the good grains." She grinned at him as she stabbed at the gravy-smothered slice of chicken on her plate. "Spill, flat-ear."

He wasn't about to admit to stirring discord in the tower aloud, so Solas merely smiled at her as he gripped his own silverware and changed the subject. "I suspect this will disappoint you, lethallan, but I was only contemplating the latest chapter I read in Master Tethras' book, Hard In Hightown."

"Oh yeah?" Varric asked, grinning. "What chapter was it?"

Solas supplied an answer quickly, choosing a section that he remembered as being amusing. His reward was seeing Varric's brown eyes crinkle with real enjoyment at hearing the praise. After a time discussing the novel with the three of them the dwarf seemed to finally shake himself and switch topics as he leaned closer to the table as much as his short body would allow and said, "By the way, I chatted up some of the Templars over the last few hours and heard some interesting gossip."

"Is that so?" Tal asked, arching an eyebrow.

Varric wriggled in his chair, smirking with amusement as he settled in to repeat the rumors. He also dug into his coat, producing the now-familiar silver flask of hard liquor. It seemed that, aside from storytelling and gambling or gaming, drinking was Varric's favorite pastime. Not that Solas could judge him particularly harshly for that, considering his own affection for wine…

…Though Solas always imbibed very carefully, post-Veil. Wine did tend to loosen tongues and inhibitions, two things he could not afford to risk in his present situation.

He sipped from his glass, enjoying the sweet, fruity flavor even if it was awful compared to Elvhenan's lowest, cheapest fare. The delicious, soft burn of it warmed his stomach even as Varric's words made his blood run icy a few moments later.

"Turns out a Templar died under some weird circumstances last night," the dwarf said with a grunt, watching their expressions. All three elves feigned surprise in varying intensities: Tal gawked while Rosa's brow hitched up and Solas widened his eyes. "Anyway," Varric went on. "Turns out the guy was from the Kirkwall Circle. He transferred here about three years ago, two years before everything went to shit."

Fenedhis, Solas thought, meeting Rosa's gaze from across the table. One corner of her mouth quirked up and then she snatched her glass, sipping her own wine. This news explained the Seeker's interest in it. It was a coincidence only, but it was natural for the Seeker to see a larger pattern in it.

"What were the weird circumstances?" Tal asked.

"The guys I talked to said the poor sod died in his sleep. No one saw anything unusual at all." Varric shook his head and let out a long sigh, his gaze falling to the table between them, his brows knitting. "My guess—and theirs, I'd bet—is that it's blood magic." He finished unscrewing his flask's cap and took a long swill, tossing his head back. When he'd swallowed again he scowled. "Damn blood magic. Every Maker-damned time."

"Can blood magic do that?" Rosa asked. Solas speared more chicken with his fork and ate it while still watching Varric, Rosa, and Tal. He kept himself from looking overmuch at Rosa, certain that he could give something away if he wasn't careful. He wondered if Rosa's question was genuine curiosity or something more along the lines of gloating over the fact their captors were bewildered at Curtis' death. He hoped it was the former and not the latter.

"I don't know," Varric said, shrugging. "Probably? Seems to me blood magic can do anything, mostly bad."

"It's probably not blood magic at all," Tal said. "More like poison."

"I imagine they'll look into that," Varric said, taking another swig from his flask. "But after Kirkwall and with the dead guy's connection to the Circle there, you know they have to investigate the blood magic angle first."

"I suppose that's sensible," Solas put in with a nod.

"But what's more likely to happen is they'll just pick a scapegoat and kill that person, regardless of the truth," Rosa grumbled. "Even if the truth is something stupid like this Templar had a weak heart and just died in his sleep."

Varric grunted, scowling as he shook his head. "Can't disagree with you there, Violet. I've seen one too many Templars jump to conclusions like that and the mages are always the ones suffering for it."

"But the Seeker's different," Tal said, pressing forward as a note of urgency entered his voice. "She's not like the other Templars. She cares about the truth. She has to. It's part of her name."

Varric laughed, shoulders shaking. Rosa eyed her brother with an unreadable expression, somewhere between amusement and…irritation? Solas, meanwhile, remained as deadpan as he could manage, drinking again from his wine.

When Varric had recovered from laughing, he said, "Your naivety, Stoic, is absolutely charming, but it's just not true. Take me for instance. I've been called a nug-humper so many times in the merchant's guild that it might as well be my middle name. Varric Nug-Humper Tethras. But, name or not, I've never humped a nug. Not once." He cringed with revulsion and then laughed again. "Same's true for the Seeker. She'll seek all right, but she's as flawed as anyone else and might never find it. Trust me on this. She stabbed me right in the book, just to make a point."

"Stabbed you in the book?" Tal asked, sounding sullen.

Varric waved a hand at him, dismissively. "Yeah, not going to get into that right now. Point is….eh…" He scratched at his chin, making a dry scraping sound. "Ah, forget it, Stoic. Keep thinking the best of her, I guess. Not like she's going to blame any of you…er…" He broke off, frowning. "Shit."

"What?" Rosa asked, eyeing him warily, as if he might be a wasp that'd sting her.

Solas wondered if her intuition might prove correct as a moment later Varric winced as he explained quietly, "I…may have known a Dalish blood mage. So, the Seeker's going to associate…uh…"

"Fenedhis," Tal said, gulping as he looked at Rosa, then back at Varric again. "Truly? You knew a Dalish blood mage? It wasn't something we did in my clan."

Solas covertly glanced at Rosa, trying to read her reaction and seeing nothing. Her silence at Tal's comment, however, made him wonder if clan Naseral didn't have much of a stigma against blood magic, just as it wasn't afraid of spirits.

"Yes," Varric said, grimacing. "I definitely knew one all right." He covered his eyes with one hand and groaned. "Dammit, Daisy."

Eager to calm Tal, Solas said, "I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. Clearly, we are not involved. Nefarious use of magic is not restricted to any race or nationality, a fact we know the Templars will not forget any time soon."

Varric snorted dryly. "Well said, Chuckles." He blew out a breath and shook his flask, revealing by the musical tinkling noise how little liquid remained. "Damn. Running low on the whiskey. Again."

"A travesty," Solas lamented with a friendly smile as he raised his wine for another small sip.

Varric sighed. "You don't know the half of it. I have another nasty bit of gossip, actually." Leaning close again, he said, "A few days back a mage from the White Spire tried to kill the Divine. With blood magic. The Seeker is pissed."

Well, Solas thought, that rumor's been confirmed…

Next Chapter:

Blushing, Tal stammered a moment before recovering. "Yeah, okay. Anyway, Shila was everyone's favorite. She was beautiful and gifted at anything she tried, while I was clumsy and awkward and our Keeper wouldn't train me as Second. Ever. Anyway, she used to take pity on me and share some of the knowledge our Keeper taught her, even though it made her uncle furious. Then, one night after a bonding ceremony when everyone was drunk off Orlesian wine, Shila asked me to sneak off with her into the woods. She told me she was going to give me another lesson in magic." He broke off, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Turned out it wasn't that type of magic. And that was my first time."

Rosa snorted. "Maybe your first time with a woman."

Solas clamped his mouth shut and pretended to ignore that comment. A few times he had enjoyed male company over the years, but he far preferred female partners. Or spirits, truth be told. Now that would be something to tell them in this game. Once, I joined half a dozen nuvenathe—you would call them desire demons—for a weeklong tryst involving endless sex and magic.

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving! If you're in the US like I am, anyway. Also, my stupid medical drama is ongoing as now I have these nasty, itchy swollen red spots on the toes of my fat left foot and after two misdiagnoses (one by me treating OTC and another by a walk-in doc) the new diagnosis is chilblains. It's a rare condition that happens to some ppl when their limbs get cold. I am a walking episode of frigging House, M.D. Only time will tell if these are really chilblains or not but we all know one thing from House: It's never Lupus.

Those who read my other story, "Pride Didn't Go" will recognize Shila of clan Ghilath, as teased above. You'll see other OCs reused in this story as well eventually, especially ones who worked with Solas. The next two chapters were some of my favorite to write for foreshadowing and laying hints to character secrets. Lighthearted chapters to serve as the calm before a tumultuous, long lasting storm to come...

My thanks go out to Bhoddisatva! Big thanks to you for taking a minute to review! The drama surrounding Curtis' death is far, far from over, BTW. Don't let this chapter fool you!