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Ren's momentary concern that the eluvian was going to take her somewhere that wouldn't allow her to return to the Inquisition and begin to anticipate what Solas might do was relieved as she stepped through to the other side and found herself in the now-familiar room in the Winter Palace that housed its eluvian. And, even better, found herself immediately folded into the arms of the Iron Bull.
He held her close and she could feel the relief in him, in the pounding of his heart beneath her ear and the strength of the grip that held her against him.
"I'm all right," she told him.
"The Viddasala, did she—is she—?"
"She's a statue." Ren started to explain more, but she realized the room was still filled with soldiers, and the others, Cassandra and Dorian and Cole, stood off to the side. She faked a yawn—which wasn't overly difficult, as she was genuinely exhausted. "I'm so tired, can we go somewhere I can sit down?" She knew Ashkaari would see through her, knowing her as he did.
"Of course, kadan."
She pulled away from him for a moment to exercise one last bit of curiosity and push on the surface of the eluvian. As she had expected, the mirror was now just a dull piece of glass; it didn't even reflect. No chance of following Solas through that now, if there had ever been.
Together they went to the makeshift War Room, where Leliana paced restlessly back and forth behind the table, staring down at it as if it held answers. She looked up when they came in, her face expectant. "Did you find him?"
"How secure is this room?" Ren asked.
The former Left Hand of the Divine understood exactly what she meant. "Not so secure as the War Room at Skyhold, but as much as is possible in the Winter Palace."
"All right, then." Ren considered quickly how much was safe to say. Was it possible to tell how many people Solas had stationed in the Palace? They were almost certain to be elves, but could she trust that they were only elves? Not completely. "Solas is alive. I had no reason to fear for his safety at the hands of the Viddasala, not there on the other side of the eluvian. She—and all the other Qunari who went after him there—are statues of stone. He turned them that way with a gesture."
"Really?" Dorian asked, surprised. "I never thought he was such a powerful mage."
"He's not," Ren said. "He's a god."
"What?" All of them were staring at her now.
"What do you mean?" Cassandra demanded.
"Solas wasn't an agent of Fen'Harel."
The Iron Bull gave a low whistle as the implication of her words sank in. "You're shitting me."
"I wish I was. But I have no reason not to believe him. His story is that he created the Veil to stop what he called the Evanuris, elven mages who wanted to be gods, apparently. The Veil was to cut them off from the rest of the elves—but in so doing he cut off the elves' immortality and their access to magic."
"The world was the Fade, and the Fade was the world," Cole said softly.
Ren looked at him, frowning. "Did you know? Were you there before the Veil was created?"
He shook his head. "I can't be certain. I am bound to time now, in this body, but as a spirit, time was … not the same."
"So let me guess." Dorian was staring at her, his eyes dark and hard. He, at least, appeared to have realized what Solas's plan would be.
"Yes. Exactly what you're thinking."
"And you let him get away?" Cassandra asked incredulously.
Ren spread her hand out in front of her in a gesture of helplessness. "The Fade is hardly my area of power, and it was his. I did my best to talk him out of it, but at the end of the day, I didn't want to end up as a statue."
Cassandra glared at her for a moment, then relaxed with a reluctant sigh of agreement. "I suppose I cannot blame you."
"Well, there is nothing to be done about that problem for now," Leliana said. When Cassandra would have protested, she held up a hand. "There isn't. I take it the danger is not immediate." She turned to Ren for confirmation.
Ren shook her head.
Leliana continued, "What is immediate is the danger to the Inquisition. Josie has been putting forth a heroic effort in stalling Ferelden and Orlais, but she cannot do so much longer, and they are going to want answers—and are not going to be satisfied with tales of ancient gods and stories that directly contradict much of what we think we know." As if suddenly remembering that she was actually the Divine, she turned to Ren. "He wasn't lying?"
"He certainly didn't think he was, and … I believed him. He created the Veil."
Sighing, Leliana said, "That is a problem for another day. Fortunately, it is the kind of knotty theological problem that scholars across Thedas love to argue about and spend hours in dusty archives researching, so if it should get out, we will have a protracted period of scholarly debate before there is any need for me to have an official opinion. And all the more reason to continue my reforms of the Chantry." She smiled at Cassandra. "Although I know you wish it were otherwise."
"I do not. You lead from your heart, my friend, and what more could anyone ask of you?"
"Thank you." The two women exchanged a glance that held much in the way of shared experiences and their deep love for the Chantry, albeit one they showed in different ways.
"So the question is the Inquisition," Ren said. She'd known this time was coming, and she believed it was right … but she still wasn't certain she was ready. "Shouldn't Morris be in here?"
"He said to tell you it had always truly been yours and he had merely been keeping the seat warm for you, and that he was happy to serve in whatever way you needed him to." Leliana looked at Ren steadily. "Be kind, Inquisitor. He did the best he could."
"I know he did." She meant it, too. She had given him an overwhelming task, and he had tried his hardest to step into it and make it his own.
"What are our options?" Cassandra asked. "I called the Inquisition into being because of the Templars, and the Conclave, and Corypheus … but Ferelden and Orlais are not entirely wrong. It has grown into something else entirely and it must alter its mandate or—" It was clear she didn't want to say it.
"Or it could become another arm of the Chantry," Leliana suggested unexpectedly. "Inquisitor and Divine working together to create a new Thedas, one that would be a home to everyone."
"As head of an arm of the Chantry, would the Inquisitor answer to you?" Ren asked.
Leliana looked at her unblinkingly and Ren returned the look.
Shaking her head, she said, "You know it can't work that way. The Inquisition was created to be an independent entity, and as an atheist, I did my best to keep it so. I know it's been creeping more Chantry-ward under Morris, but I think we're all agreed those days are over."
The Iron Bull gave an almost imperceptible sigh at her admission that the mantle of the Inquisition had fallen on her shoulders again, and she reached out to take his hand, giving it a brief squeeze to indicate she shared his disappointment at the loss of their idyllic retirement before continuing.
"I can't in all conscience surrender the Inquisition to the control of something as … divisive as the Chantry. Yes, I know you think you can make it inclusive," she added before Leliana could protest, "but it's always going to be predicated on its followers' belief in the Maker. I don't believe in the Maker. Despite what Solas says, what he appears to be, I don't believe in the elven gods, either, or in the dwarves' Stone, and no one in any organization I have a hand in is going to be forced to profess a belief that isn't theirs."
"Surely not forced," Cassandra said.
"What else would you call it? Under the Chantry's umbrella, we would have to at least pay lip service to the idea that everyone in the Inquisition is a believer. Wouldn't we?" she asked Leliana.
"It's customary."
"Exactly. And since I can't pay that lip service myself, I won't ask anyone who works with or for me to do the same."
"So … it appears there is no other choice," Cassandra said softly. There was sorrow in her grey eyes, and Ren was sorry to see it and doubly sorry to be the cause of it.
"I'm sorry. I wish I saw another way. But it's already been tainted. Qunari spies, elven spies … no doubt Tevinter and Orlesian and Ferelden and dwarven spies, for that matter, all trying to find a way to use the Inquisition for their own ends. The Qunari nearly succeeded in using us to start a war all across Thedas. They would have, if it hadn't been for Solas. How long until someone tries to start something and no one's there to stop them in time? No," Ren said with finality. "As you say, Cassandra, the Inquisition was created to deal with aftermath of the Conclave, which it did; to defeat Corypheus, which it did; to take down the Red Templars and put the Order back on a new path, which it did. I think its usefulness is over." She glanced sidelong at Ashkaari, and then met Leliana's blue eyes. Both of them understood what she wasn't saying, or they appeared to. Cassandra was too stricken by the end of what they had put in place, Dorian too tired to pay attention, leaning against the wall and appearing half asleep, and Cole was studying the War Table and appeared to be lost in thought.
Because the Inquisition couldn't end, not really, as long as Solas's threat lay out there waiting to destroy the world. But Solas knew everything there was to know about the Inquisition as it was and the way it ran. If they were going to have a chance against him, they had to approach him in a way he wouldn't expect.
"You make a compelling case, Inquisitor," Leliana said softly when Ren was done speaking. She smiled suddenly. "Or are you merely hoping to leave the title behind once and for all?"
Ren chuckled. "The thought had crossed my mind." More seriously, she added, "Will you go to the Exalted Council and tell them I will address them first thing in the morning and we will resolve their concerns once and for all?"
Cassandra frowned. "They are in no mood to be put off further. Should you not speak with them now?"
"No. For one thing, I'm utterly exhausted, and I want to be at my best when I speak to them. For another … Cullen and Josephine deserve to hear this from me personally, not in the middle of the council. As does Morris." Fairbanks could take care of himself, Ren felt. If she ran into him, she would speak to him, but she wasn't going to make a special effort to seek him out. "If either Teagan or Cyril kick about it, please feel free to play the 'I just had my arm cut off two days ago' card. Show them the arm with the Anchor if you like," she added bitterly.
"Of course, Inquisitor," Leliana agreed. She started to leave the room, then stopped and looked back. "I thought it was impressive when you stepped down and willingly agreed to relinquish the power of the Inquisition to another. Taking it back when it is clear it is the last thing you wish to do, and then making this very hard decision … I admire you, Morvoren, and I am pleased to call you my colleague—and my friend."
She left quickly then, leaving Ren touched by her words. No one but the Iron Bull had ever called her Morvoren—not in her memory, at least, although her mother must have used the name when she was very small—and it felt fitting to reclaim it now as she prepared for her last formal act on the behalf of the Inquisition.