Kelly rapped on the office door with her knuckles, nervously.

"Come in."

The Knight-Captain was putting aside a sheaf of documents as she opened the door, his other hand resting against his temple. He glanced up at her, and straightened in his chair. "Ah. Recruit Kelly." He smiled, banishing the creases of worry on his forehead, and gestured over to the side of the room. "Bring one of those chairs over and sit down."

There were a couple of chairs pushed over to that side of the room. Kelly carried one over and placed it in front of his desk, the chair legs making a muffled sound against the thick wool of the rug. She perched on the front of the seat. She discovered she did not like being the sole focus of the Knight-Captain's attention; being asked to sit down only made the experience more unsettling.

"Now. You're coming to the end of your practical training," Laurent said. "The time is coming for you to take your Vigil, if you're going to stay with us."

Kelly nodded, her mouth a little dry. She folded her hands in her lap, a little uncertain of what to do with them. "Yes, ser," she ventured. "Is – is there a problem?"

"No, no," he said, sitting back in his chair and regarding her. "I'm just pulling the recruits aside to have a short talk before committing to the Vigil. It's a sacred vow, and not one to be taken lightly."

She nodded again. "Yes, ser."

"The Vigil is when you begin training with lyrium," he said. "But it's also a dedication of yourself to the Maker. A dedication that will ask you to make great sacrifices, of your body, your mind, your autonomy. Perhaps your life." The words had the cadence of something he had thought about beforehand, maybe even practiced. Or maybe just said to two or three other people today. "Once you take your Vigil, your every action must be weighed with regards to its service to the Maker and the people of Thedas." He paused. "Do you feel yourself ready to make that dedication?"

"Um… I… " Kelly stopped, her stomach plummeting.

She hadn't come to an answer on that question. Despite the last few nights of worrying and prodding herself one way and another, despite the fact that she'd known it was coming – on some level she was not prepared to be asked that question. He'd asked it, and she'd panicked, and what had come out was 'um'. What sort of response was that? He was going to think she was an imbecile!

The knight-captain looked surprised, and shifted forward in his chair.

"What, um… what are the options if I don't?" she found herself asking.

No! He was going to think that meant she didn't want to take the Vigil! The thought filled her with a huge sense of panic and regret. There, look, I actually do want it, she thought in horror, and I just told him no!

What was the point of coming all this way and wasting everybody's time if in the end you're too much of a coward to actually come through for people?

"I mean, not that I don't want to!" she said desperately. "I do, I just – I was wondering what you do if people don't take it – I mean – "

Laurent raised a hand and she fell silent. He was frowning.

"Well, there are a couple of things we could do," he said, slowly. "Depending on why the recruit decided not to take the Vigil. Some people take an extra six months of training, if we feel they aren't prepared yet. Some women recruits seek to be a sister or priest instead, although that's not common. Had you ever considered that path?"

Kelly was staring at her lap. She could feel her ears burning crimson, and she didn't want to look up and see the expression of frustration and condescension that was probably on Laurent's face. "No, ser," she mumbled.

"Any particular reason?" he prompted patiently.

She shook her head. "It's not – Ser, I know what I'm good at," she said. "I thought being a templar would fit. I think I could be good at that. But priesthood… I'm not smart enough, or good enough with people, or, or contemplative enough, or – "

"That isn't how I would have put it," he interrupted her. "But you're right that they're quite different skillsets, on the whole. That's a no, then."

She sat there, her hands clenched on her knees. "Ser, I… "

Laurent sighed. "People do leave," he said. "It's allowed before the Vigil. We don't like it, obviously, because we put all this time into training you. But in the end, I think it's better for all concerned if people don't take the Vigil when their heart isn't in it. It doesn't make for good templars."

She made herself look up, straightening her shoulders and staring ahead. "I didn't say I don't want to, ser, I do. I want to serve the Maker. I just… " She trailed off. "I guess I've been having some... doubts, lately," she said lamely.

Laurent had his hands folded on the desk in front of him and was tapping his thumbs together thoughtfully. "I'll admit, I'm a little surprised to hear you say this," he said, and she would have cringed, but there wasn't any condemnation in his voice, just puzzlement. "I've heard nothing but good from anybody involved in your training. You struck me as very well suited."

"Oh," she said uncertainly. "Thank you, ser."

"What things trouble you, specifically?" Laurent asked. "Perhaps I can help."

Specifically? Kelly wasn't even sure she knew. Or, well, she did – Senior Enchanter Targold troubled her, but she couldn't say that. You couldn't go to the Knight-Captain and complain to him about his lieutenants. Could you?

Beyond that, 'some of the templars here are bad people' was an embarrassingly childish response, wasn't it?

"Well, I…" Kelly let her gaze wander away from Laurent, across to the tapestry on the wall behind him, winking gold threads picking out a sunburst. Surely Laurent had more important things to be doing than sitting and talking through this with her? "I… I guess I'm not good with… violence," she said.

He cocked his head, looking thoughtful, then lifted the corner of a piece of paper on his desk. "Not good at fighting? That is important, but I suspect you're better than you think. I don't recall hearing of any issues in the training yards. More importantly, every senior templar who's been out with you says you keep your head and act quickly under fire, which is no small -"

"People are cruel to the mages sometimes," she blurted out.

He looked startled, and let the paper fall absently from his fingers.

"I didn't notice at first, but after the thing with Knight-Lieutenant Hendon and Enchanter Targold, it's like I see it everywhere," she said, the words seeming to come too quickly now. "Fighting demons is okay because they're, well, they're not human and they're trying to kill you, so that's okay, I mean, it's not okay, it's terrifying, but it has to get done, so…. okay." She gulped in a breath. "But… it seems like the job mostly isn't that, it's keeping mages in line. And I have… trouble… with that." She stopped. She felt as if she'd tripped and tumbled to the bottom of a steep hill and was waiting to see if she'd broken anything. "I don't want to hurt people. Not, not like I've seen happen here sometimes."

"Ah," Laurent said, and his voice had changed.

She bit her lip. What was she supposed to say? She couldn't tell him, I don't want to become like Julian, hitting mages because they talked back and that's the first thing I think of. I don't even want to be like Raine and tut-tut at that, but in a bored way, like it doesn't even surprise me anymore.

"You'll probably think I'm being weak," she said. "I don't know if this is something I need to get over. I don't know if it's something I even want to get over. So if I have to in order to be a templar, then maybe I… shouldn't."

The silence in the room thickened. Well, that's probably it, then, she thought dully.

"So that we're on the same page," Laurent said. "Your problem is with the use of excessive violence towards mages. Correct?"

Kelly clamped her hands between her knees. "Yes, ser," she agreed.

Laurent leaned back, interlacing his fingers again. "That doesn't make me think you're weak. And it doesn't convince me that you're unsuitable. In fact…" He pointed his fingers at her across the desk, and his eyes caught hers for a moment. "This actually makes me even more certain that you belong here in the Order."

What? She tried not to screw her face up in confusion. "I don't follow, Knight-Captain…"

"No?" he asked. "Recruit, wanting to avoid hurting people makes you a good person. It's not something you can always do - you realise that, because you're not stupid. But the desire itself is a good thing that you shouldn't try and 'get over'."

Kelly blinked at him. "Um, no, ser," she said. "I mean, I'm not stupid. But don't I – "

"Of course, you're right. Templars are cruel, sometimes. Are violent, are unfair. Abuse their power." He looked pensive. "The culture of the Order lately… isn't as effective as curbing that as it should be. Krisholm Circle isn't the worst, but it's not the best either."

Kelly hadn't expected this. She hadn't expected the Captain to… what? Agree with her? Knight-Lieutenant Hendon was directly under his command. Was he agreeing with Kelly that what Hendon had done was wrong? Or perhaps Laurent just hadn't caught what she was referring to.

She tried to focus. Laurent was still talking, and she pulled her attention back to him.

"Some people would say it doesn't matter," he said. "Some people would say that our job is to keep the mages under control, and whatever methods work are acceptable. Some say we're a military order, and we can't be effective if we're always handwringing about morality. But that, to me, is missing the point of what we are. Or what we should be." He hit the table with the flat of his hand to emphasise the words. "We are the hand of the Maker! You cannot serve the Maker and fail to uphold His commandments."

Kelly found herself holding her breath, hanging on the Knight-Captain's words. The sick anxious feeling was starting to fade from her stomach; something else was taking its place.

"I think of our current struggles as a battle for the heart of the Order, Kelly. I don't want us to be people who are good at fighting and killing and nothing else. I don't want obedience to be a greater virtue than righteousness. We're a military force, but we're not just another army. Our objective is not to get paid or to do as we're told. Our objective is to uphold the Maker's peace and protect the innocent. There is no worthier purpose!"

Laurent paused, seeming to notice that his voice had risen. He cast her a slightly rueful look and subsided into his seat again. He coughed, and his voice dropped to a more conversational level. "You see, Kelly, if all the people who are made uncomfortable by needless violence leave the Order, then the Order can only suffer for it." He indicated her across the table. "I need to be retaining people like you, recruit. You belong here. Provided you agree with everything I just said, and are willing to work to uphold it."

His hand was open, held out towards her. As if he was asking her for something – or – offering her something. Asking her to take something up.

She sat upright in her chair. "I do!" she said. Purpose was a warm glow in her chest. "I mean – that makes a lot of sense, ser. I hadn't thought about it like that. Everything you said, yes, ser, I want to do that."

He smiled at her for a moment – almost a grin, really, which she had never seen the Knight-Captain do – and then the tired half-frown seemed to settle back onto his face. He picked up the pieces of paper in front of him and began to sort them back into a folder. "You don't have to give me your answer immediately, recruit. We're planning to hold the Vigils on Thursday," he said. "Now, I'm not saying you have to take it if you're certain it will make you miserable. It genuinely isn't the right life for everybody. But if you were going to bow out because you were worried that you weren't up to the task, I think you should put those concerns to rest." He stood up. "I hope you do choose to take the Vigil, Kelly. Think on it and let me know."

Kelly stood too. "Thank you, ser," she said. "I will."

As she left the office, Kelly was left with the impression that she'd briefly seen past the outer layers of impatience and annoyance and fatigue to whatever it was that had put him on the other side of that desk in the first place. Could I do that? Could I keep that core of purpose burning under the surface for years and decades? Maybe I can.

.

Raine leaned against the wall by the library doors and yawned, his jaw cracking.

Guard duty, still. Try as he might, Raine really couldn't figure out what the Knight-Commander thought she was doing with all of these new guard posts and restrictions. Raine was supposed to be stopping every single mage who tried to leave or enter the library and ask them whys and wheres and who said they could. Waste of time.

At least during the day you could people-watch, but the mages on the whole weren't all THAT interesting.

A figure in armour stepped out from among the bookshelves, and stood stock still, gazing around the library. Ser Hannay. A templar who'd been at Krisholm for years longer than Raine; as far as he knew, she rarely left the Circle, so he didn't have that much to do with her.

Long moments passed and she didn't move. Her greying hair was disordered, as if she'd forgotten to brush it. Her eyes were an unfocused, hazy blue and her lips moved slightly.

This is going to be a long shift, Raine thought. He wonderedif he ought to go and wake her, or bring her back from wherever it was she'd gone in her head.

Eventually, presumably woken by some stimulus imperceptible to Raine, she shook her head and started back into motion, making her ponderous way across the room towards Raine.

Halfway there, Hannay checked her steps, head turning to the side as rapidly as a dog hearing game in the distance. Raine could see her eyes snap into focus, in the moment before she veered off course. "Apprentice! No running in the library!" she called. "Put that down. No, come here - "

Raine watched her pursue the running child into the next room. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, grimacing. I guess working probably keeps her as sharp as she's ever going to be, anyway.

He shifted against the wall, folding his arms. It hardly mattered, because the whole of the Krisholm templars were just a shout away. But Raine always felt more comfortable working with someone… harder. If trouble struck, Hannay would probably be worse than useless.

Raine doubted the woman had ever been much of a templar, even in her prime. Not a real templar in the way Raine was, a hunter, a fighter. But trouble seemed unlikely, and in the meantime he supposed somebody needed to nursemaid the little magelings. The Maker needed many kinds of tools and all that. She would doubtless do her best in the event of an emergency, for what that was worth.

"Good morning," Hannay said as she passed his post.

"Yeah, morning," he responded absently.

She peered at him with watery blue eyes. "So, er…. Oh, hello. How is your wife going?"

Raine sighed. "I don't have a wife, Hannay."

She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Oh, Dan, I'm sorry," she said. "It's so difficult, when you have to be apart all the time, and people never really understand. It's not your fault."

"What? No, it…" Raine sighed again. He couldn't think of any templars in this area named Dan. Certainly not married ones; templars didn't often have spouses. It was probably somebody from a very long time ago. "I'm not Dan. My name's Raine. I've never had a wife."

"Oh?" Her brow wrinkled. "You haven't?"

"No. Pretty sure."

"Oh. You're… Oh. Raine. Yes, I know that, of course you are."

She began to pat her thighs, clearly searching for something in the pocket of her uniform robe. Raine watched as she pulled out a little notebook bound in black cloth. She was singing slightly under her breath as she did it, off-key, irritating.

Raine gritted his teeth. "Hey," he said. "Shouldn't you keep going?"

"Hm?"

"Your patrol. Aren't you supposed to be patrolling?"

"Patrol?" She looked down at the book. "Um. Yes, I'm patrolling the, ah… library... today."

"Yes, you're in the library. So just… head back around, I guess." He stood up straight for a moment, to take her by the arm and turn her around. He pointed over to the western rooms. "You should keep moving."

"Right," she echoed, her eyes clearing for a moment. She glanced at him. "Thanks, Raine."

He settled back against the wall once she was on her way. The babble of conversation in the library murmured along just underneath his hearing, the occasional phrase catching his attention. He made himself relax and stop grabbing at them, just letting the hum of words rush past.

One of the mages was approaching, striding across the room and making a beeline for him. Raine raised an eyebrow and wondered whether he could be bothered straightening up. He probably needn't; looked like it was just an apprentice, barely came up to Raine's shoulder. The apprentice flicked a blond plait over one shoulder as he came closer.

Shit, wait –

"Hey, Raine," the apprentice said, lifting his chin and meeting Raine's eyes boldly.

Dread, shame, and fear hit him like a bucket of cold water thrown in his face. Suddenly he was scrambling to put the details together behind his eyes, the events of several weeks ago falling into place inside his head.

The mage was looking expectantly at him. He knew – he did know –

"Emmit Thorne," he said lazily, pretending he wasn't suddenly wide awake and panicking. "I see you're still alive. And you haven't burned the place down yet. Congratulations."

You forgot. Andraste's tits, you prick, you forgot! How the fuck could you forget?!

Emmit gave him an angry look from under his brows – seemed like he'd struck a nerve, which hadn't been his intention.

"I wouldn't dream of burning anywhere down without you in it, Raine," Emmit said, and then gave him a mocking smile.

I meant to check on him. Shit, that was – how long ago? Four weeks? Six? I don't remember, I'll have to ask someone – Maker, no, I can't ask anyone. I can't let anybody know I forgot about this.

He stayed frozen, leaning against the wall, although he was tense all over now, his heart beating rapidly under his ribs. He tried to keep his habitual half-smile fixed. "So, Emmit… how are you finding the Circle?"

Emmit scowled and crossed his arms, fussing with the sleeves of his robe. "Garbage."

Even rattled as he was, that raised a spark of concern. Raine hissed through his teeth. "Watch it, kid."

"Well, what sort of answer were you expecting?" Emmit mumbled. But he did look slightly abashed. "It's hard. But I'm trying, okay?"

"Right. Well, that's… that's good..."

You were supposed to be keeping an eye on him! Fuck, Raine! Why did he do things like this? He got it into his head that he could help someone, ease some little injustice, take an extra responsibility on himself – what a joke. He was barely holding it together enough to do his actual job.

"What'd you do to your face?" Emmit asked.

Raine frowned. "What?"

Emmit tapped his own hairless cheek. "It's all healed up but I can see you did something to it."

Raine mirrored the movement and touched smooth skin. "Oh? Oh." Where he'd been burned by the Rage abomination, he realised. The healing had taken, with time, but the healthy new skin was visibly slightly different to the rest of his face. "That. Right. Yeah, I did…"

The Thorne boy was just going to have to succeed or fail on his own merits. Raine couldn't do anything to help him or 'keep an eye on him' or whatever delusional intentions he'd had.

But that wasn't quite right, was it? Raine had wanted to watch this mage for everybody else's sake as well as the mage, he thought with a sinking feeling. How Maker-damned irresponsible was he? The Order didn't kill most hedge mages for fun. If this whole situation went pear-shaped he'd wanted to have his finger on it so he could take care of it, ugly as the thought was.

He should probably have killed the hedge mage back there in the ruined fortress. Maker knew he had done it before; killed more innocent people, with less provocation, while they were more defenceless than Thorne had been.

Instead, he'd bent the rules to let a possibly dangerous mage into the sanctuary of the Circle and just wandered off to do something else!

Emmit was giving him a sideways look. "I can see you're busy. I'll go away in a second. I just wanted to ask you a question before I –"

"What? No," Raine said, refocusing on the person in front of him. He stood up straight, away from the wall, and waved his hand irritably. "You're fine."

Emmit was studying him with sharp eyes. The boy wasn't stupid; he could see something was wrong with Raine. "You sure?"

Head in the game, Raine. There would be time to probe this crumbling sinkhole in his mind later, when nobody was trying to carry on a conversation with him.

He pulled himself back to the here and now with a huge effort, and found a lazy smile. "I'm not busy. This post didn't exist a week ago and as far as I can see it should've stayed that way. So you're actually doing me a favour by talking to me." He rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms out, feeling a joint pop. "If I wanted you to go away, I'd tell you, trust me. Anyway, you're right, I got some nasty burns on my last assignment."

"Right," Emmit said. "You were… at Meike's Crossing, weren't you?"

Raine grunted. "Yup."

"What was that like?"

Raine made a face at him. "What sort of question's that? A bloody mess, is what it was like. Circle's lucky it got any of the damn healers back alive, between the demons and the townsfolk."

"And you," Emmit said, under his breath, but Raine heard it and gave him a warning frown.

Emmit looked away, and his voice stayed low. "Thought you might be dead for a bit, you know. You said you were going after some healers, and then all of that happened. Marise was saying some templars died, and I hadn't seen you."

"Ah," Raine said. He wondered, as his heartrate slowed and the panic faded into the background, if he should read the comment as a veiled rebuke. Well, tough. "You aren't rid of me that easily. Are you minding your teachers like I said?"

Emmit rolled his eyes towards the library's high ceiling, arms folded, so much the image of a spoiled adolescent that it was hard to believe that Raine had seen him physically beat back a demon-possessed corpse, teeth bared, coated in blood. "Yes, mother, I'm minding the teachers."

"Well, good, keep it that way." Raine paused, and cocked his head. "Which room did you get put in, in the end?"

"The dorm with all the other male apprentices," Emmit said, hunching his shoulders a little, protectively. "Like you said."

"Ah. Any trouble with –"

"No," Emmit said. "Everything's fine. Classes are fine, dorms are fine, teachers are fine. Or as close as they're going to get."

At least, Raine thought, the intervening time since he'd last seen him seemed to have done the mage some good. Emmit was clean, his hair neatly plaited, the robe looked clean and warm. Raine couldn't see any injuries. He didn't look happy, as such, but his eyes were no longer shadowed and feverish-looking. Raine frowned, mentally re-winding their conversation back a little. "You said you wanted to ask a question?"

"Oh, right," Emmit said. "I did. It's… for a friend of mine."

Raine raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Ask away."

"Can mages go and visit the Tranquil? A specific one, I mean," Emmit said.

Raine frowned, a little taken aback. "A Tranquil? Why would you want to visit one of the Tranquil? They're not exactly great conversationalists."

"She's a friend of his. A friend of my friend, I mean. If he wanted to go and visit her, how would he go about getting permission to do that?"

"I suppose that would be allowed?" Raine scratched his head, puzzled. "Probably you just ask whatever templar is on duty. I wouldn't bother anybody higher up than one of us rank-and-file with it."

"Oh. All right." Emmit considered for a moment. "Thanks. I'll let him know." He turned as if to leave.

"Hold up. Who's this friend?" Raine said.

Emmit turned back. "His name's Reece. I don't think you'll know him, he doesn't know you."

"An apprentice?"

"Nah."

Raine frowned, a little suspicious. Friends were probably a good sign, but he'd hoped Emmit would make friends with the other apprentices. Why would an adult mage want to hang around with a hedge mage apprentice?

Emmit wrinkled his nose. "Stop looking like that. You should approve. He's very Chantry." He waved his fingers in a half-formed gesture that might have been hands upraised in praise. "And he's giving me some extra magic lessons."

Raine snorted. "What makes you think I approve of, quote, 'very Chantry' people?"

"Raine, you are literally sworn into the service of the Chant."

Raine raised an eyebrow. "So? Doesn't mean you have to carry on about it."

Emmit snorted. "Okay, whatever. Anyway he's over there and he's probably worrying, so I'll get back to my studying." He backed up a few steps. "Glad you're not dead, I guess. Bye."

"The same to you, I guess," Raine said. He raised his voice a little to the mage's back as he left. "I'll be keeping an eye on you, Thorne!"

Raine watched until Emmit was out of view. Then he groaned, very quietly, to himself, and put his hand over his eyes.

He had intended to look the boy up once he'd come back from Meike's crossing, he genuinely had. But after he came back, he had just – forgotten!

If he could forget something like this, who knew what else he might have forgotten? Maybe there were gaping holes in his memory already. What if there were whole events, whole people, whole damned chunks of his life he was missing? He didn't feel like anybody was missing, the story of his life hung together well enough, but that didn't mean anything.

"Fuck, Andraste help me," he mumbled.

Maybe his memory was already eaten through like rotten wood and he just didn't know it yet. Maybe it was obvious to everybody else except him – fuck, what if that was why Knight-Captain Laurent didn't seem to trust him much?

Someone cleared their throat.

He snapped his eyes open, his hand falling to his sword hilt. "What?"

It was Hannay. She was standing beside him, head tilted quizzically. "Hey, Raine," she said, lifting her finger and smiling.

"Yes, that's me, I'm Raine," he snapped. "Don't scare a person like that, Hannay, I – "

"This is for you," Hannay said, and she was holding out something small and black. He took it reflexively; it was the notebook she'd pulled out of her pocket earlier. Small and bound in black cloth, it was held together by stitching and fell open slightly if it wasn't held shut.

"What is this?" he said.

"It's one of my books. Librarian Marnie makes them up for me," she said. "I'll ask her for another."

Raine tried to push the little book back into her hands. "Yes, great, I'm glad. There's no need. I don't want it."

She gave it back to him, closing his hand over the book with surprisingly strong fingers. "It's for remembering things. You write down what's important in it." She gave him a sad smile.

He stared at her for a moment. He took the notebook, opened it and found it crammed full of small, very steady handwriting. He flicked halfway through it to the last written page.

Apprentice HAYDEN passed Harrowing.

WEDNESDAY library duty. Then off. Then nite patrl.

P's nameday Sunday IMPORTANT, send letter Tues

Pat. 2nd floor w/ Julien and Palma. WATCH A-L.

RAINE, Dark hair, needs 2 shave, NO wife.

Healer's apptmt. 1st bell THIS IS THE SECOND TIME DO NOT FORGET

He closed the book up, and counted to ten. "And this works for you, does it?"

She hummed. "Not perfectly. But it helps."

"Look, did I ask you to stick your nose in my business?" he snapped. "What, are you all laughing at me behind my back? Is that it?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I just – noticed. Just then, when I saw you talking."

"Oh, you noticed? That's funny because -" You can barely find your own ass with two hands and a map, yet you pay enough attention to me to - ! He bit his lip and counted to ten again. "Hannay, I'm sorry."

She blinked at him placidly. "Pretending it isn't happening doesn't make it go away, you know."

Raine took a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh. He stared upwards at the ceiling for a moment. "I know it doesn't," he said. He held the book back out to her. "Look, I'm not going to take this off you," he muttered. "Thank you for the thought, but I'm not. I'll – look, I'll deal, okay? I'll deal."

Not as if I have any other choice.

How much longer was he supposed to be here? Hours yet. He was already starting to feel the nagging discomfort that would turn into a headache soon.

Raine sat on the bunk he'd temporarily claimed as his in the templar barracks, his back against the wall, one arm wrapped around his knee. He felt, he decided, as though there were wires bound around and around the base of his skull. They only throbbed a little now, but he knew with time they would tighten. His mind felt scratchy around the edges.

His lyrium kit lay half under the bunk. It was empty of the blue-silver powder; he knew without even looking, because if there had been lyrium that close, he would've been able to hear it singing.

Plus, there was the fact that he'd given it away to someone else after he'd returned from duty. No sense in making things harder for himself, was there? Nobody ever complained or asked too many questions when you wanted to give them lyrium, either, in case you changed your mind.

He just had to be better at resisting, that was all. He'd live with whatever damage had been done, and he would try to avoid making it worse.

Raine thought about the hedge mage and wondered briefly if he had done the right thing. That was an activity he tried to avoid whenever possible, because in his experience it didn't lead anywhere much except chasing your own tail in circles. What was done was done; he would just have to deal with it better starting from now. His mouth was dry, and he considered finding his flask of spirits. But that wouldn't help either.

Maybe he should get a notebook. Raine chuckled darkly. TUESDAY, SECOND BELL: LOOK IN ON THE DANGEROUS APOSTATE YOU CONSPIRED TO LET INTO THE CIRCLE.

The door was ajar and Raine could hear the conversation going on in the guardroom down the hall. He tipped his head back against the wall and listened in on it, because that was better than sitting here listening to the sound of lyrium not being there.

"… Lawne, and Kelly. So that's four of them in total."

"Nobody got cold feet this time, eh?"

"Back in Ostwick it used to be traditional to get'em roaring drunk the night before the Vigil, but it's not like there's anywhere to go here, so do we still…"

"... Knight-Captain's asked me to take them for the lyrium training that morning, so that'll be - "

Raine swore gently and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. So Kelly was going to take the Vigil.

He got up and went to find the flask.