Within an hour after Fenris's visit, every Templar in Denerim had copies of the photographs and knew where Danarius was staying.
"We'll work in shifts," Max told his team once they assembled at Guard headquarters. "I'm bringing in reinforcements from the Circle so we have enough people to be on call if there's another robbery attempt." Most of those people would be young and new to Denerim, but at least Lillian Folmas was coming to keep the young pups in line. "Danarius is the priority, however. Follow him. Find out what he's up to. And the moment we catch him in something even slightly illegal, bring him in."
By noon the next day, however, Max was beginning to see this would be easier said than done.
The Templars checked into a room in a hotel across the street from Danarius's, a somewhat more modest establishment called the Regency. One man would be stationed in the hotel, watching from a high vantage point; the other would stay on the street level, waiting in a car or drinking coffee at the Regency's cafe or otherwise camouflaging himself among the city dwellers. Max allowed himself to hope that Danarius would leave to find lunch, commit a crime along the way, and that would be that.
Much to Max's chagrin, however, Danarius never left the hotel. Flickers of movement in the penthouse suggested he was inside, but nothing happened that might give the Templars an excuse to look within. And so far, none of the visitors to the Denerim Arms had been Marcus Amell.
I wonder if Mei can point us to anyone else working with Danarius, Max thought as he leaned back in his metal cafe chair, pretending to read a newspaper as he watched the front door of the Arms. He almost said that over his radio earpiece—softly, of course—but he remembered who was on the other end just in time.
"Anything?" he asked, though he knew the answer.
"Nothing yet. Just like the last time you asked five minutes ago." Cullen's tone was full of weary but amused exasperation.
Then he let out a low, suspicious hmmm. "The motorcycle's back."
Max lowered his newspaper and reached for his coffee, a little ruse that gave him an unobstructed view of the street. Sure enough, a black motorcycle came speeding down the street, slowing just a hair in front of the Arms before picking up the pace once more and rounding the corner.
"Three times in the last hour," Max murmured. "Let's keep an eye on it. Could be one of his henchmen."
"Or a pizza delivery man. It is almost lunchtime," Cullen observed, almost sounding like his old self.
Max smiled. "Want me to catch up with him and ask if he's got some extra slices we could steal?"
His friend chuckled. "I'll let you know if I get hungry enough to want to blow your cover."
Max raised the newspaper again and shifted his weight on the chair. He tried to calculate how long he had been here, and how much longer he could stay before someone got suspicious—but before he reached any conclusions, the motorcycle turned the corner again.
This time, the driver guided it to the sidewalk, parked it, and removed his helmet.
The man on the motorcycle didn't look much like a pizza delivery guy—at least, not the ones Max had met. He was handsome, with dark olive skin and jet-black hair, and his carefully styled haircut struck Max as expensive. He also wore a small mustache that curled up at the ends, the first time Max had ever seen something like that in person.
He's probably just lost, Max thought. Drove past here a few times because he couldn't find the street he wanted.
Nonetheless, he took a breath and murmured into his earpiece. "Cullen? The motorcycle's back and the driver's headed my way."
"I see him. What's your order, Knight-Captain?"
"Hold position for now," Max said as the other man stopped in front of the cafe to consider the menu. "Could be nothing."
Max signaled the waiter for more coffee as the man entered the cafe's seating area. Although more than half the tables were empty, he chose the table next to Max's.
Then he sat down in the chair directly behind Max, and the alarm bells started ringing.
He was about to go to the bathroom so he could talk to Cullen more subtly when the man leaned back, tilting his chair onto its two rear legs. "So. Do I call you Agent or Knight-Captain?"
"Sorry?" Max said, pretending to be startled out of his reading. The alarm bells started ringing louder.
"You've been watching the Denerim Arms all morning and murmuring into your collar. You're subtle about it by southern standards, but I recognize you from the papers, and I think I know who you're looking for." The man had a cultured, elegant tenor voice, laced with humor and energy. His tone was friendly, but Max couldn't help a flash of dislike when he placed the man's accent. Tevinter .
On the other end of the radio, Cullen drew a sharp breath. "Max. Get out of there, now."
Max looked at the man and glared. "Fine. You got me. My ex-boyfriend works there. I heard he was dating someone new and I was trying to see if it was true. Happy?" He folded his newspaper in what he hoped looked like a huff and signaled the nearest waiter. "Check, please."
"I find that somewhat unlikely," the stranger murmured as Max stood up. "For one thing, a man with your looks could do quite a lot better than Danarius."
"Walk away, Max," Cullen growled in his ear.
But Max was already turning to the stranger.
"That is who you're looking for, isn't it?" the Tevinter persisted, arching one glossy black eyebrow.
Max asked the only question he could. "Who in the hell are you?"
In reply, the man gestured elegantly to the chair opposite his. "Please, join me. I think we might have something in common. My name is Dorian Pavus, and I'm looking for Danarius too."
Dorian watched the handsome Templar wrestle with how to respond. He tried to keep his expression detached and arch, as if his palms weren't sweating. Having a face-to-face conversation with someone who locked up mages for a living had not been high on Dorian's list of "things to do in Denerim." He was supposed to arrive in town, deliver some payback for Alexius, and hop the next boat back to Tevinter before Danarius had an opportunity to inflict his particular brand of havoc.
But it hadn't taken Dorian long to realize that Danarius had been gone from Minrathous for longer than anyone had realized—and that he was at the center of something big in this city. Dorian felt reasonably good about his chances of taking on Danarius alone, but Danarius plus half the apostates in the city was another matter. And if anyone was going to be able to help stop Danarius, Knight-Captain Maxwell Trevelyan, the celebrated hero of a previous crisis at the Circle who also happened to be investigating the string of magical robberies, seemed like the obvious candidate. Even if he was a Templar.
I hope I don't regret this.
After a long moment of hesitation—and a low murmur into the earpiece Trevelyan was wearing—the Templar nodded and sat, taking the seat Dorian had offered. Fortunately, the waiter chose that moment to bring Dorian's pot of coffee to the table, complete with two mugs, as he'd requested.
Dorian poured the first and offered it to the other man. "Milk? Sugar?"
"I'm good, thanks," Knight-Captain Trevelyan replied, looking at the mug as if it might contain poison.
"Suit yourself," Dorian said as he poured his own cup. He took a sip and shuddered as the thin, bitter liquid hit his tongue. "Oh. I see. Good choice. Is there anyone south of the Silent Plains who can brew a proper coffee?"
The Templar crossed his arms and gave him a flat, unamused look. Dorian let out a wistful mental sigh—it was a pity for such a gorgeous man to lack a sense of humor. The way his grey sweater moulded to his biceps as he crossed his arms went a long way towards making up for it, however. Dorian quietly wondered about the fictional boyfriend Trevelyan had invented as a cover story. Did the handsome Knight-Captain prefer men?
Fasta vas, Dorian. Stop ogling a bloody Templar.
Trevelyan still hadn't responded. Dorian sighed. "You're going for strong but silent, I see. Very well. Let me start by telling you what I know." He took a reluctant sip of his coffee to gather his thoughts. "I know that approximately eight months ago, Danarius vanished from Minrathous after killing a fellow magister. For some reason, he seems to have found his way to Denerim. And now he's bankrolling a charming little crime wave using local apostates as his henchmen. How am I doing so far?"
"Not bad," Trevelyan admitted grudgingly. "But my question still stands: Who the hell are you? What brings you from Minrathous?"
"Ah, yes," Dorian said, to buy himself some time. "Well, here's where things might get a bit awkward. My name is Dorian Pavus, and I'm an altus."
He waited to see if the title would mean anything to the Templar. Sure enough, the other man's mouth tightened. "A junior magister? Well, that's terrific. Just what we needed, more mages from the Imperium."
Trevelyan's tone wasn't exactly warm. But the Templar didn't try to clap him in handcuffs, so Dorian decided to view his introduction as a success. "For the record, I have been extremely law-abiding since arriving on your shores, even though your laws are objectively ridiculous," he said. "I've not used a drop of magic."
Trevelyan looked skeptical, but said nothing.
"At any rate," Dorian continued. "I'm here because the man Danarius killed—one of them, I should say, as he has rather a lot of blood on his hands—one of them was my mentor. Alexius." Saying his friend's name out loud send an unexpected stab of pain and loss through Dorian, though it had been more than half a year since Alexius's murder.
The Templar raised an eyebrow. "I thought that was sort of an occupational hazard for magisters. But it seems like you're taking it personally."
Dorian felt himself bristle; his lip curled as he answered. "Believe it or not, Knight-Captain, we mages in the Imperium are capable of friendship and loyalty. Honor too. It's almost as if we're human. Imagine that." He wasn't surprised about the Knight-Captain's opinion—he happened to share the view that magisters were an unscrupulous and somewhat murderous bunch—but that didn't mean he had to like hearing it from a southerner.
Trevelyan seemed unimpressed. "So. Was your mentor a rival of Danarius's?"
"Maker, no," Dorian said instinctively. "Danarius is a psychotic sadist. Alexius is—er, was—a scholar. His research into chaos magic was groundbreaking." He gritted his teeth. "And something he was working on apparently caught Danarius's attention, because the bastard murdered Alexius in his bed and stole half the contents of his laboratory." And now Felix, with his thin magical talents, was trying to hold on to the family seat without the father who had protected and supported him for his entire life. But Dorian didn't expect that would interest the Knight-Captain much.
"What was he working on?"
Dorian took a deep breath. You're not going to like your answer, Knight-Captain. "Time magic. A way to speed up or slow down time in a particular location."
"Why in Andraste's name would you want …" The Templar's dismissal faded away abruptly as an idea lit in his eyes. "Medicine. If you could buy healers extra time to do their work …"
"Just so," Dorian agreed. "And Alexius had hopes even beyond that. If we could actually unspool time, return to a previous moment, accidents could be undone. Disasters could be prevented even after they happened."
"So what does Danarius want with it?" Trevelyan leaned forward, his dark eyes curious. Then he frowned. "No. Hold position. I said, hold position," he murmured into his earpiece. Then he scowled. "Agent Rutherford. I gave you an order. Hold position."
"Your underlings don't want you talking to me?" Dorian asked lightly when Trevelyan's attention returned to him.
"It's been a rough week. Everyone's on edge," the Templar said nonchalantly, though Dorian could see worry on his face. "Back to Danarius."
"I have no idea what he could want with Alexius's research," Dorian admitted. "My one theory is this. There was a slave who used to accompany him everywhere, a terrifying fellow with lyrium tattoos. The poor bastard died some years back and Danarius has been trying to repeat the procedure that created him ever since. He's failed every time, from what I understand. Perhaps he thinks Alexius's methods might buy him more time to complete the ritual successfully."
A shadow of something passed across Trevelyan's face, but he kept silent. After a pause, he said, "So why follow him outside the Imperium? Are you here to heroically rescue the southern barbarians, since we couldn't possibly handle Danarius without tripping on our feet and falling into an open sewer?"
Dorian concealed a smile. So he does have a sense of humor. "Something like that, yes. But much as I hate to admit it, my grand mission to stop Danarius has hit a few snags, Mostly due to the fact that I've only got myself, and he has an army of local morons who are apparently carrying out his plans. So I approached you, strange as it may sound, to offer you my help. In whatever way that might be possible, given the awkward altus-Templar situation."
The earpiece let out an indignant yelp. Trevelyan ignored it. He leaned back in his chair, tilted his head, and considered Dorian seriously. After what seemed like several years, he spoke. "The next team will relieve us in thirty minutes. I propose you come back with us to the Guard house and give us a statement outlining what you know. We'll go from there."
Dorian let out a breath he hadn't quite known he'd been holding. "Splendid. Now then. Do you think this cafe serves anything edible?"
The door to the briefing room had barely swung shut when Cullen Rutherford exploded.
"What in the Maker's name are you thinking, Max?!"
Cullen's handsome face was ashen as he stared at his friend. Max wasn't entirely surprised—Cullen had fairly radiated disapproval the entire ride back to the Guard house—but the intensity of Cullen's anger still caught him a bit off guard.
On the other side of the briefing room, Vivienne and Cassandra looked up from a stack of reports. The First Enchanter tilted her head. "An eventful morning, then?"
"He—a bloody Tevinter mage walked right up to him in broad daylight," Cullen spluttered, appealing first to Vivienne, and then to Cassandra. "And now apparently this magister, Dorian Pavus, is part of our bloody investigation!"
"He's an altus who came here to find Danarius. I told Delrin Barris to take his statement. So far, that's it," Max said mildly. "But I think he has useful intel. He knows what Danarius was working on before he left Minrathous." It had also occurred to Max that Dorian might be able to translate for Varania, though he would want to know more about the other man before trusting him with something so sensitive. He didn't mention this to Cullen, however.
"He's an apostate!" Cullen snarled, wheeling on Max with his teeth half-bared in frustration. "You should have arrested him on the spot, not shared a nice chat over coffee!"
"Arrested him on what charge? He says he hasn't used magic in Ferelden borders, and we have no evidence that he's lying." Max glanced over at Cassandra, wondering how she was taking this.
The seasoned Seeker nodded. "I must agree. An arrest would have been premature. Though I sympathize with your suspicions, Agent Rutherford."
Cullen did not appear very comforted by that sympathy. "We cannot trust anything he says. Surely you know that. He could have been sent by this Danarius to plant false information."
That had also occurred to Max, but it didn't fit with his evaluation of Dorian. The man was all sophisticated polish and arch comments on the surface, and yet there had been a sincerity to him. The mention of Alexius's name had clearly pained him; there had been tears in his dark eyes, though he'd blinked them away quickly.
"There should be one thing we can verify easily. He mentioned one of Danarius's victims, a magister named Alexius. I'll get one of the newer Agents to see if his story checks out—and to see if there really is a Pavus family in the Magesterium." Max shoved his hands in his pockets, thinking. "If he's an altus, his parents should be on record as magisters. If he's telling the truth, we can take things from there."
"And what do you mean by 'take things from there'?" Cullen's face was stony and pale.
"It depends on how much he can help our investigation." Max had no idea where this conversation was going, but he strongly suspected he wasn't going to like where it ended up. He fought the urge to glance over at Vivienne and Cassandra. Cullen was in his chain of command; this problem was his to resolve.
"He can't help our investigation!" Cullen exploded. "And the fact that you think he can is the entire bloody problem!" His face was white with rage and his golden eyes were wide, almost panicked; Max could see the Agent's breath rise and fall in his chest. "How can you possibly be this blind, Max? Or maybe the blind ones are the idiots who made you Knight-Commander!"
Well. That got bad, fast.
It took everything Max had to keep calm. "Seeker Pentaghast? First Enchanter? Could we have the room, please?"
"Of course, darling." Vivienne stood, her face smooth, as if the air weren't crackling with tension. Cassandra looked more concerned, but she too departed, sparing the pair of Templars a thoughtful and serious look as she did.
For a long moment after the door clicked shut, Max and Cullen simply locked gazes.
"You're out of line and you know it," Max said, as gently as he could.
Cullen crossed his arms defensively. "I'm telling you the truth. Everyone else in this blasted Circle is too dazzled by the Trevelyan name to say it to your face. But you're not fit to be Knight-Captain if you look at a magister and see a potential ally."
The words lashed into him and stung, as they were meant to do. But Max forced himself to look into his friend's pale, exhausted face, to see the patches of stubble he'd missed while shaving and the dark, bruise-like circles under his eyes. His heart twisted as he faced an uncomfortable truth: Cullen wasn't ready to be here. And it was Max's fault for not seeing it sooner.
"And you're not fit to be back on active duty if every mage you see looks like an enemy." Max shook his head and took a deep breath. "You're on medical suspension, Cullen. Effective immediately."
Cullen took a step back, his face growing even paler. "You don't mean that."
"I do. I think you'll be ready some day, and I'll welcome you back when you are. But what you went through will take more time to heal than a few weeks of therapy and desk duty." Max swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Cullen."
The other man crossed his arms, his hands shaking visibly. "You're throwing me out because I think we shouldn't trust a magister. You have to see how wrong this is!"
"No. I'm pulling you from duty because you couldn't even bring yourself to take Mei's tip by phone," Max said bluntly. "I'm pulling you from duty because you tried to throw out a good recruit who didn't even break the rules, just because she had a crush that hit a little too close to home."
Cullen flinched at that.
"Think about it, Cullen. You loved Mei. You trusted her. This isn't you. You know …"
"And you know nothing!" Cullen's arms uncurled and his fists clenched at his sides. His handsome face was twisted in a snarl. "You have no idea what I went through. And it made me a better Templar than you'll ever be, Knight-Captain Trevelyan. " He spat the name and title at Max like a curse. "I know firsthand what mages can do to those who fall prey to their cruelties. I was blind to the dangers of magic once, but I will never, ever be that blind again." He snorted. "And to think I used to defend you when people said you were oblivious. You're every bit the privileged twit they said you were."
That hurt more than Max would have thought possible. He knew, of course, that some of his fellow Templars resented the way his name opened doors, and he didn't blame them. But he'd tried to make up for it by working hard and having the others' backs. Hearing that some unnamed "they" thought he was an oblivious idiot … it struck his pride in a tender place.
Now is not the time for your hurt feelings, Trevelyan.
He straightened his shoulders and forced his voice to be cold and authoritative. "Medical leave, Agent Rutherford. Find a hotel in town and send the bill to the Circle, but you are not to set foot on Circle grounds until I give the word. You can return to duty when you're cleared by a psychiatrist. Of my choosing. Not that doddering old incompetent who cleared you last time." He took a breath. "Your badge. Now."
For a moment Max thought Cullen would actually take a swing at him. The other man's fists tightened further and his right shoulder pulled back, as if to begin lifting the arm. He readied himself to block the blow. But Cullen shook his head as if to clear the impulse. Instead, he reached for his belt, where he pulled his badge free with vicious efficiency. He threw it down to the floor; his sword soon joined it.
"You're a damned fool," he hissed. "I'm sorry I'm the only one who sees it."
And with that, the man Max would once have called his best friend turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Cullen had no idea where to go.
His sister Mia and her husband lived in Denerim. They would be the obvious choice, he knew; Mia would open her home to him without hesitation. But there would be questions, and worried looks, and furtive calls to the entire extended Rutherford family to share the news that Cullen had been suspended, and he could not face that.
A hotel. Max had said to check into a hotel. He wondered if Max had been envisioning the kind of roadside motel where the Rutherford family had stayed on road trips, or the kind of swanky high-rise where the Trevelyans probably spent their family vacations.
Thinking about Max made Cullen's fists tighten. He had thought the man a friend, damn it all. He had trusted Max. And yet again his trust had been misplaced.
Max may have been my friend, once. But he allowed a Templar recruit to seek a mage's company. He has brought a magister into our investigation. He continues to ignore the dangers of magic, and of mages. He can't stay as the lead on this investigation.
He had failed his Circle once, when he allowed his infatuation with a mage to blind him to Uldred's schemes. Good men and women had paid the price for his crimes. He would not fail again.
But what could he do? He was now excluded from the Templar ranks, if temporarily, and Max was Knight-Captain and a Trevelyan besides. Cullen respected Cassandra Pentaghast, but it was clear she did not yet see the danger in Max's tactics. And the Templar leadership was riddled through with Max's uncles and cousins; calling the Lord Seeker's office was unlikely to get results when the Lord Seeker had dinner with Max's father every other week.
And then he passed a newspaper, and saw the solution staring at him from the front page.
Twenty minutes later Cullen was standing at a pay phone, feeding coins into the slot as he waited to be put through to the office of Councilwoman Meredith Stannard.
"My name is Agent Cullen Rutherford," he said when the call was answered. "I have information about the Templar investigation that the Councilwoman will want to hear."