The New Ploy

The uniforms for the students learning herbalism were modifications of the mage robes. A band of cloth was sewn under the sleeves to that they could fold the sleeves up and button it near the shoulders, holding the cloth away from their arms. The robe wrapped from mid-thigh to the shin, sagging in the crotch. This allowed them flexible movement.

They were gardening. A true herbalist did not depend on others' talents to provide the best ingredients for their poultices and potions; a true herbalist grew the plants themselves. That's what their teacher had told them.

Jowan and Enaara flexed in their uniforms, enjoying the change. Everyone buzzed excitedly for class to begin. A seventh floor laboratory had been cleared out for the course, one with a small balcony and large windows near the ceiling to let in the light. A large box had been constructed that filled almost the entire room; it was filled with dark soil.

Enchanter Karth clunked into the room, his heavy belly making his uniform stretch awkwardly. His pleasant face was permanently cherry red and he dabbed at his forehead, probably sweating from the trek up all those flights of stairs.

"Everyone," he exclaimed, "we are ready to begin! Is everyone here? It doesn't look like we're missing anyone…" He peered into the crowd. "Where's Mr. Higreth?"

"Right here, Enchanter," someone called from the side of the room, raising his hand to draw attention to himself.

"Ah, there you are. Very good!" Karth exclaimed, taking his position at the head of the room. "Now, what do we have here? Its dirt, isn't it? Very good dirt." He looked around at them all. "I see you all must've noticed shoes did not come with your new uniforms because you're wearing your shoes belonging to your robe sets. There's a reason your uniforms didn't come with shoes… now, take them off."

Perplexed, they all slipped out of their shoes and put them against the wall. Karth nodded, smiling.

"Good, good. All right, everyone. Get in!"

They exchanged glances.

"Go on," Karth said. "You won't learn anything by just standing there. Herbalism isn't an observation, it is an action." He made an example of himself by waddling into the box and sinking into the dark soil. "It's cool," he said excitedly.

So all the students followed him into it and began squishing their toes in the grains, laughing as they unwound from the usual course structure that did not include getting their hands dirty.

"This is good soil," he repeated, bending down and filling his palm with the black substance. He rubbed it between his fingers. "Go ahead, get a feel. That's right… Feel it between your fingers, remember this feeling, this color," he lifted it to his nose, "this smell. This is what rich soil looks like to the senses. This will produce the best herbs for your crafting."

Jowan and Enaara grinned at each other. He flipped a bit of dirt up at her and she squeaked, returning the favor. Karth went on and on during the class, teaching them how to recognize good soil and how to produce good soil in the event the earth had been drained of nutrients. Then, he showed them examples of plants, both live ones and pictures of more exotic ones.

The two hours flew by quickly and when the bells chimed to end the period, they all groaned.

"Next session, we're going to look at seeds and even start planting if we have enough time," Enchanter Karth told them as they filtered out of the soil box. "There are water buckets under the lip of the box for you to clean off with and towels here on the shelf by me. Don't trek mud everywhere or we may not be allowed to have this class."

Everyone obeyed and washed off, padding out of the room with their shoes in their hands, jabbering excitedly about everything they had just learned.

"I think I've found my calling," Jowan said as they moved down the stairs with the crowd.

"It was fun," she agreed. "Almost like we're normal people preparing our farm for the year's crops."

"Except its nearly winter," he added. She shrugged.

"Except for that… Still, I like it."

"Uh oh, here comes your best friend," he muttered and Enaara frowned then looked into the throng of people, wondering who he could be talking about. Derik was waiting for them down the hall. She cursed under her breath. "I think he's stalking you. He's been showing up everywhere lately."

"I don't know what it is… I've done nothing to encourage him."

"He's set his sights on you. You're like a rabbit he's hunting," Jowan told her. She shot him a look. "It's true. You've heard the rumors. Once he sets his sights on something, he goes after it 'til he gets it. It's scary, even. He doesn't take no for an answer. Watch out. He may seem nice now, but there's a demon underneath all that charm."

"I don't think you're wrong…" she mumbled, then looked up at him. "Hey, maybe we should pretend to be a couple. That way, he'd give up, right?"

"What?" he balked. "No way are you putting me in his line of fire."

"Coward…" she mumbled.

"I don't need that kind of trouble."

"What are friends for?"

"That's not fair," he said, and they were forced to end their conversation because they'd finally caught up to the source of their displeasure.

"Enaara, Jowan," he said with a nod, staring directly at Jowan. "Mind if I borrow her?"

Jowan and she made eye contact and she could tell he was torn between his duty to their friendship and his declaration that he didn't want to get involved moments before. His shoulders slumped and he nodded.

"I'll see you later," he said, and moved away. Traitor, she thought.

"What's wrong?" she asked, mentally preparing herself to avoid all romantic notions.

"I missed you," he replied, catching her off-guard. "Enaara, I like you. I can't make myself any clearer. I thought I'd give you some hints but…" he grinned, "you don't seem to notice others' feelings."

"I…" was all she managed, not really sure how to proceed. Rejecting him flat out didn't seem like a good idea; all of the memories she had of him made her nervous in the worst of ways. Before her mind could process anything further, she noticed something up ahead.

A girl only a couple years younger than she—Anna, if she remembered correctly—was talking to Cullen. She could tell by her smiling and the way she kept tucking her hair behind her ear that she was flirting with him. Jealousy flared up instantly, squeezing her heart so tightly that she thought it would burst. How dare Anna flirt with him? No, how could he reject her the way he did and then entertain another?

"Enaara?" Derik said, noticing the change in her.

"I can't," she said. "I have to go." And then turned around and ran back the way she'd come, trying to force her lungs to breathe.

Enaara didn't resurface until dinner was served. She played off Jowan and Lydia's concerns, stating that she'd merely enjoyed herbalism so much that she'd gone back to study the soil some more. They seemed to accept it. Later, though, Jowan cornered her when they were alone.

"What happened back there?" he said.

"Nothing," she admitted, but his glare was inescapable. "Okay, not nothing… Derik confessed, but… well, I freaked out a little and ran away."

"Let's go out," Jowan blurted, stepping toward her. "I thought about what you said and you're right. We should be a couple." He was more forceful than she'd ever seen him.

"I… I… what?" she stammered, taken aback. "I only meant we'd pretend."

"Of course," he agreed, as though it were already implied. She raised her eyebrows, thoroughly confused. He sighed and leaned against the wall. "I… I met someone," he admitted. She lit up, intrigued. "But it has to be kept a secret. If you and I pretend to be together, it can help us both out. It could keep Derik off your back, and draw attention away from me and… well… my situation."

"Who is she?" she asked, more interested in his girl than the proposition he was making.

"I can't tell you," he replied. "Not yet anyway."

They stared at one another in silence for a while and then Enaara nuzzled her head into his shoulder. He stiffened at the affection, unsure of what was happening.

"If we're going to be a couple—even a fake one—you need to be a little more accepting," she teased. He exhaled in relief and put his arm around her.

"Thank you."

"What are friends for?" she asked, grinning.

And they allowed the rumors to blossom around them, not confirming or denying anything, not even with Lydia. If they had told her the truth—that it was just a ruse—it would've leaked into the gossip ring for sure. Secrets were not easily kept in the Circle Tower. So they maintained their friendship as it had always been, throwing in random hand-holding, hugs, arms-across-shoulders, and anything else they could think of to rile suspicion.

A few times, they were called out by the enchanters and senior enchanters that wanted to know if there was any validity to the rumors. They denied them, of course; they were positive they may have been watched a few times, but nothing about their private life indicated romance since there truly was nothing between them.

Jowan promised her that their fake relationship had helped him and his mystery girl out tremendously, and she had to admit that it had thrown Derik off the scent for the moment. He seemed too baffled by it to react yet and Jowan was thankfully nearby almost always to ward off any attempts he might make to find out what was going on.

And autumn slowly wound to a close.

Toward the end of the season, Cullen enjoyed the library posts the most. The big fireplace warmed the room and kept him from chilling inside his armor. Unfortunately, that also meant he came in the most contact with others, particularly an annoying mage apprentice named Anna. She had taken to talking to him every chance she got, making up questions and topics as she went.

"Looks like you have an admirer," Ser MalRay had said one day, gruffly chuckling as Anna rushed off to her duties. Cullen was horrified as he realized his fellow templar was right and the girl had been flirting with him. He knew he had to do something to clarify their relationship but, when he went to think of a solution, he only thought of how he'd rejected Enaara.

He had heard rumors about her and her apprentice friend Jowan—that they were a couple. The enchanters had discussed it once but mostly the other students gossiped about it in the halls along with all the other rumors in constant flux. Hoping for clarification, he'd watched her when he could, but it only troubled his struggle to forget her.

One day at his post in the library, he watched her and her friend, Lydia, talking animatedly about something he could not hear. That's when Jowan suddenly appeared, putting his arm around her and kissing her forehead affectionately. Cullen's heart ached and the drive to punch the weasely mage in the face only proved his efforts to forget her were futile. Cullen sized up his competition, drawing comparisons between them. Without someone not vulnerable to melee combat to protect them, mages were easy prey. Jowan wasn't suitable in that regard.

What are you thinking, Cullen? he asked himself, and he felt ashamed for his mental comparison. His jealousy flared and it quickly became apparent that the fuel to this fire was real—a deep love for her that the Maker did not take away from him no matter how much he prayed and repented and begged.

Under his frown and puppy-dog eyes, he cut his gaze to her and watched the trio sit at one of the tables. Devlin joined them moments later. Jowan put his hand on the boy's head and Cullen's jaw clenched. Devlin was a secret between them—the gateway to their ill-fated romance. He wondered what they were talking about. He wanted to join them; no, he wanted Lydia and Jowan to disappear and let it be a moment for Enaara, him, and the boy.

The conversation got louder, something about Lake Calenhad. Enaara got up and crossed to a shelf near him, plucking a book and returning to the table. She didn't even acknowledge him; perhaps she didn't see him? He wanted her to look his way, just once. Being cut out of her life was excruciating and he only had himself to blame.

Enaara returned to the table with the book Thedas: Myths and Legends by Sister Petrine, a Chantry scholar that had spent many years cataloging the stories across Ferelden, Orlais, Rivain—even Tevinter. She opened the book, flipped to the section concerning Ferelden, licked her fingers, and shifted through the pages.

"Here we go. Lake Calenhad," she said.

"I remember doing reports like these," Lydia said, waxing nostalgic.

"So you just have to write an essay on the origin myths of Calenhad?" Jowan asked and Devlin nodded. He looked at Enaara. "So what does it say?"

"Okay, the first is the creation myth of the Avvar. They say that this was once the site of a great mountain that stands at the center of the world; it was called Belenas. Korth, the Mountain Father, stood atop Belenas and surveyed the earth and sky, but was killed in the battle with the serpent Nathramar. Belenas was destroyed and a giant crater was left," she told them, scanning the text for her synopsis. "The Lady of the Skies saw Belenas was gone and wept; her tears filled the crater and made the lake."

Jowan's lower lip folded back and his brows shot up. "Hm. Interesting."

She knew he thought it was rubbish. She did, too. Lydia seemed taken with the myth and Devlin was bored with the romance of it all. Enaara smiled at him.

"Can you imagine the battle between Korth and Nathramar?" she asked him, wiggling her fingers as though she were going to shoot lightning. Devlin brightened up. "It was such a show of power that it destroyed a mountain. Remember what I told you I could do?" She made the throwing motion and he got excited.

"I want to write about that!"

"Well, hold on. There are more things in here." She scanned the page. "Oh, here we go. The Tevinters believed the lake was blessed by the god of mysteries, Razikale. If you drank from it, you were granted special insights." She raised her brows. "I didn't know this. They built the tower on the lake because they thought it would aid their magical research."

"We knew the Tevinters built the tower," Jowan said.

"But we didn't know why," she replied. Then, she flipped the book around and showed Devlin a painting of Razikale. He took the book from her, grinning ear-to-ear as he studied the drawing.

"Cool…" he mumbled.

"As a Ferelden, you need to know the story of Calenhad," Lydia insisted. She didn't need the book to recite the tale, so she let him hold onto it while she spoke.

"Calenhad Theirin, King of Ferelden, spent one whole year and a day here at the tower. Every day, he drew a cup of water from the lake and carried it to the top of the tower to the Formari. Using magic, the water was forged into a ring of mail. At the end of his time here, a set of chain armor was given to him by the Circle. Created from the lifeblood of the land, the legend says that no blade could strike him, no arrow pierce him, so long as he stood on Ferelden soil."

Devlin was enthralled with the story and, Enaara had to admit, so was she. She loved that tale. It represented a trust, a unity between the kings and the mages. He had spent an entire year with them in peace and acceptance, toiling his own effort with that of the mages to create a symbol of the strength and pride of Ferelden. He did not fear their power; he saw it for what it was—a gift.

Even if it was just a story and there was no truth to it at all, she believed in it. If she didn't, there was no hope for mages in this world.