27 August, 9:30 Dragon
The Spoiled Princess

‹›‹O›‹›

Morrigan grew weary of this waiting.

The others didn't really seem to mind. They sat around a table near the fire and chattered about . . . whatever it was that came into their heads, apparently. It was rarely anything worth the waste of breath. Alistair badgered Sten into talking about what he did all those days he spent in the cage in Lothering (although, to Sten's credit, he never did give a satisfactory answer). Leliana went on about shoes, of all things, and Daveth told bawdy jokes, although that, at least, was entertaining.

This morning, Morrigan wasn't in the mood for any of it, so she found a table in the corner, far enough away that it was unlikely they would bother her directly, but close enough to keep an ear on the conversation in the unlikely event anything interesting was discussed. Dane, too, seemed uninterested in socializing with the others, and had come to sit at Morrigan's side. Fortunately, she noticed where he had placed his head in time to move her feet before they were drooled upon.

They had been at the Spoiled Princess for three days now, and Morrigan itched to be away from it again. Although the innkeeper was friendly enough, and no one had dared mention "templars" in her presence, it was unnerving to spend so much time in the shadow of the Circle Tower. In addition, there was little in the way of entertainment here. Other than her companions and the innkeeper, there were few other patrons. From time to time, a couple of men from the town nearby came to drink and discuss philosophy, most recently whether or not we are all just the dream of some being of "great cosmic power." There was also the man who had once been responsible for ferrying people across the lake before his boat had been commandeered by the templars. He spent a few hours each day complaining loudly to anyone who would listen, "They took away my Lissie! Named for my grand-mum, she was!"

Now, however, even the boatsman was absent. No entertainment to be had here today, at all.

With any luck, Rhianna would arrive soon and they could handle whatever business they had at the tower, and be on their way again to somewhere else. Somewhere more . . . interesting.

When she left her mother's home, Morrigan had been somewhat awed by the thought of being in a city, but had found it difficult at first, when confronted by the reality of being surrounded by so many people. Lothering had been terrifying and overwhelming, after a life spent almost entirely in the Wilds. But Oswin had been less chaotic, and Rainesfere very charming, and now she craved the sort of atmosphere she'd experienced in those places. Hearing the cadences of different voices, watching people haggle loudly in the marketplaces. The noise and the bustle and the color and scents. It had stopped being frightening, and become endlessly fascinating. Perhaps she would tire of it eventually, and yearn to be back in the relative quiet of the Wilds, but for now, she wanted to soak up every detail. This sleepy inn, in the shadow of Kinloch Hold, offered no such pleasures.

Ah well. They shouldn't be obliged to remain here long now. Rhianna's hawk, Gwyn, had caught up with them the day after they parted ways at Gherlen's Pass, carrying a note: Rhianna had escaped from the fort, and would meet them at the inn as agreed upon.

Alistair had grabbed the slip of parchment from Morrigan's grasp. "Is it my imagination, or do these look like blood stains? Shouldn't we go . . . look for her, or something?"

It was true that there were a couple of dark smudges that looked like something other than ink, and the handwriting was much sloppier than Morrigan would have expected from the daughter of a nobleman. Those things were hardly troubling, though.

"I do not see how it matters," Morrigan had said calmly. "This note clearly came from Rhianna, and you know as well as I do she is capable of taking care of herself. In all likelihood the blood belongs to someone else. If she were wounded and needed help, she would have asked. Which she did not. So the obvious course of action is to wait here, as she has requested. Especially since we would have no idea where to start looking, even were it necessary."

Alistair hadn't seemed satisfied by this logic; the man really did lack all imagination and sense. Instead of being comforted by the knowledge that Rhianna was alive, and well enough to send a note, he'd seemed vaguely panicked, which seemed the opposite response one would expect. Of course, he had behaved strangely ever since they split up. When Leliana and Sten had returned alone, Morrigan had expected Alistair to rant and rail about Rhianna's foolhardy behavior, but instead, he'd just gone pale and stuttered some prayers to the Maker for Rhianna to return to them unharmed. It was almost as though he cared, which came as something of a surprise, considering how much the two of them fought.

At any rate, everyone other than Alistair had seemed relieved by the arrival of the note, and they'd all continued around Lake Calenhad to the inn.

Where they now sat. Waiting.

Dane whined softly, and Morrigan reached down to scratch behind his ears.

"So let me get this straight." Alistair's voice echoed through the common room. "You were a cloistered sister?"

"Yes," Leliana replied. "Does this surprise you? You must have been a brother before you became a templar?"

"Well, no, as a matter of fact. I never actually became a templar. I was recruited into the Grey Wardens before I took my final vows."

He never took his vows? That came as a surprise. He certainly was pious and obnoxious enough to have been fully indoctrinated into that Chantry nonsense.

"Oh. I didn't realize." Leliana paused. "Do you ever regret leaving the Chantry?"

"No, never. You don't regret leaving, do you?"

"Yes, sometimes. You may find it hard to believe, but I found peace there. A kind of peace I'd never known before."

"Really?" Alistair shrugged. "Yeah, I can see that, I guess. I mean, it was quiet most of the time, anyway. Too quiet, if you ask me." A grin split his face. "It used to get so quiet at the monastery that I would start screaming at the top of my lungs until one of the brothers came running."

"You did . . . what?" Leliana sounded vaguely disturbed, and no wonder. Clearly, something was not right in Alistair's head.

"I would scream. As loudly as possible. And when they asked me what was wrong, I told them I was just checking."

"Checking what?" Daveth asked.

"Um . . . I'm not really sure? Checking to make sure someone was paying attention, I guess? Or that they weren't all just dead, and that's why it was so quiet. I mean, you never know, right?"

"I . . . no." Leliana shook her head. "I never did anything like that. I enjoyed the quiet."

"Suit yourself." Alistair chuckled softly. "The look on their faces was always priceless, though."

Yes. There was definitely something wrong in that man's head.

Before Leliana could respond - although, really, what was there to say? - Dane leapt to his feet. He huffed once, and then again, and then he barked twice. He didn't seem unhappy, though. Quite the opposite . . .

The door to the inn swung open, and in walked Rhianna. Her cheeks were smudged with dirt, her hands were bandaged, and she seemed to favor one leg. But when Dane bounded across the common room, she dropped to her knees and a wide, happy smile burst across her face as she threw her arms around the hound's neck.

"Rhianna!" Alistair leapt from his chair, and rushed across the room in Dane's wake. When Rhianna let loose her hold of the dog, Alistair practically dragged her back up to her feet, and threw his arms around her. After a moment of hesitation, Rhianna returned the embrace.

When they pulled apart, Alistair's arms fell to his sides, and his cheeks were stained red. "I . . . um . . . I'm sorry about that. It's just . . . I was so worried about you! When I found out you'd been captured . . . we were all so worried!"

"Hello, Alistair." Rhianna blinked rapidly, as though surprised or confused. "Didn't you get my note?"

By now, Daveth and Leliana had crossed the room to Rhianna's side.

"Yes, we got the note," Alistair replied. "But it was all . . . bloody. And, w-well . . ." The man was stuttering now? He really seemed flustered. What was that all about? "It's just, when Leliana and Sten told us what had happened - that you'd been captured - that sounded awful, and to think that you were being locked up, and taken to Loghain . . . I'm just . . . well, I'm grateful you're all right. I . . . um . . . yeah."

"It's all right," Rhianna chuckled tiredly. "I really am fine. I hurt my hands a bit while escaping, but other than that, I'm fine." She turned to the others. "Hello, Daveth." The rogue stepped close and pulled her into a hug. This time, Rhianna returned the embrace with no hesitation.

"Good to see you, Boss," he said when he pulled away.

"Yes." Leliana hugged Rhianna, as well. "It is so good to see you. Watching you walk away with that guard was awful."

"I'll admit, it's good to be here." Rhianna smiled, a wide, genuine smile. The sort of smile Morrigan had only rarely seen on the woman's face before, except when interacting with her hound.

"I wouldn't mind something to drink," Rhianna continued, "and a hot meal."

"You've got it!" Daveth hurried over to the innkeep, while the others ushered Rhianna to the table. Sten nodded a greeting as Rhianna took a seat. Finally, Morrigan stood, and brought her pack with her.

"Welcome back. Would you like me to take a look at your hands?"

"Yes, please. I managed to give myself some rope burns." Rhianna held up her left hand so Morrigan could unwrap the bandage. "I didn't have a poultice with me," Rhianna continued, "but I was able to find elfroot and pack the wounds with that. It helped ease the pain, if nothing else."

Morrigan bit back a gasp when she saw the wound on Rhianna's left palm. It was by far the worst such injury she'd ever seen. The skin had been torn through nearly to the bones. The elfroot had done a bit to soothe the worst of the rawness, but Rhianna's palm was still basically one large open sore. Fortunately, it appeared not to have become infected. Morrigan retrieved a pot of salve from her pack, and dabbed it on the wound as gently as possible. Rhianna didn't even flinch.

"The elfroot was a good idea," Morrigan agreed. "But a poultice will be better. Just how far did you slide down that rope?" she murmured, not keen for the others to hear, or to see just how badly Rhianna's hands were torn.

"I'm not sure. I fell for several seconds. Guards had grabbed the rope from above and were trying to haul me up, so I did the first thing that came to mind."

"Well, it's nothing that won't heal." She'd have scars, no doubt, but not in a place where they'd often be noticed.

Morrigan finished rebandaging Rhianna's left hand, and began to work on her right, as the others all settled around the table, and Daveth pushed a glass of port in front of Rhianna.

"So, tell us what happened." Alistair said. "Were they awful to you? Did they put you in chains down in the dungeon?"

"No," Rhianna chuckled. "Nothing that like. They put me in a rather charming little room near the top of the tower, and gave me food, and everyone was quite pleasant. Even so, I decided I would rather not go to Denerim as someone's prisoner, so I climbed over the wall to escape."

"You went over the wall?" Leliana's eyes were wide. "I saw the fort. It was a very long way down to the bottom of that gorge."

"Yes." Rhianna paused. "It was a long way down, and I had to slide part of the way. But, fortunately, I only ran out of rope about ten feet from the bottom, so I didn't fall very far at all." Her voice was cheerful, and her smile bright, but her jaw was tense, and the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Rhianna's escape had clearly not been as facile as she made it sound. Judging by her wounds, she had slid rather a long way down that rope, and even a fall of ten feet could have been deadly if she'd landed badly.

Morrigan did not make any comment to that effect, though.

"After I made it to the bottom," Rhianna continued, "it was easy enough to get away. I had enough of a head start to outrun the soldiers. The hounds did catch up to me, but their silence was easily bought with some bits of cheese I'd tucked away in my pocket for that very purpose. From there, I just followed a dry riverbed south through the mountains to Sulcher's Pass. No horse could travel through that terrain, so there was no way for them to follow me. And from Sulcher's Pass, I made my way to Rainesfere, where Teagan's seneschal was gracious enough to help me hire a boat to bring me here. So." She paused. "What have you been able to learn about the troubles at the Circle?"

"Nothing really," Alistair said. "No one here knows much of anything at all. Just that things are out of control, but no one seems to know any details, or what got them that way in the first place. People don't like to stick their noses in where mages are concerned. Which isn't bad logic, really." He shrugged. "So, all we know is that something's going on. And occasionally there's a loud explosion . . ." His voice trailed off.

"You never tried to go across to the tower?"

"No," he admitted. "We thought we'd wait for you."

"All right." A slight crease formed across her brow, but she gave a half smile. "Let me just have something to eat, and we can see about getting the boatsman to ferry us across."

"That might be easier said than done," Morrigan mused. "I think the fellow who usually takes people across the lake has been replaced by a templar who is under strict instructions not to let anyone across."

"Oh." Rhianna's half smile faltered. "Well, we'll just have to be persuasive, won't we?"

"Indeed," Morrigan agreed.

Fortunately, Rhianna was a persuasive young woman. She seemed to have a knack for sweet-talking people into doing as she wanted. Convincing this templar would not be the first time that skill would come in handy. Nor would it be the last.

Morrigan glanced at Alistair, and Daveth, and something tightened uncomfortably in her chest.

She looked away again.

What would happen if she confided in Rhianna? Told her the truth about what lie ahead? Would she take the news with grace and calm, or would she rebel? Would she feel betrayed? Perhaps even banish Morrigan from her side?

Of course, these questions were moot. Morrigan would not breathe a word about any of it. Not yet. No, not out of respect for her mother's wishes - or fear of her mother's threats - but for Rhianna's sake.

There was no way to escape the future, but perhaps knowing as little as possible about it would be a comfort. Much better for Rhianna to remain in blissful ignorance for at least a while longer.

‹›‹o›‹O›‹o›‹›

Rhianna was sorely tempted to put off going to the tower until the morrow. The thought of sleeping in a bed, of being able to rest with her feet up beside a fire with Dane's head in her lap, sounded utterly delightful. But the little detour she'd made had cost enough time already, and since the others hadn't managed to investigate the troubles at the tower, it seemed prudent they do so as quickly as possible. The longer they waited to see what was happening at Kinloch Hold, the slimmer the chance there would be anything left to investigate, assuming Alistair's comment about "explosions" had not been in jest.

Besides, she didn't feel physically exhausted. Her hands hurt, yes, and she had twisted one of her ankles dropping to the ground. Her stomach stomach still churned at the memory of the pain - and the sight of her bleeding hands - once she had stopped running long enough to assess the damage. Even so, she didn't hurt enough to warrant an entire day of rest.

So, once she'd finished her meal and the pleasantly robust wine Daveth had brought her, she gathered everyone together, and they made their way to the small boat dock.

As expected, the ferryman was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a man in templar armor stood at the dock.

"You!" The man stood straighter at their approach. "You're not looking to get across to the tower, are you? Because I have strict orders not to let anyone pass!" He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I am the person appointed to stop all unauthorized access to the Circle Tower. Meaning you," he pointed at Rhianna, and then swept his finger to take in the rest of the companions as well. "Because you're unauthorized."

That was quite an . . . unusual speech.

"Except that I do need to get across," Rhianna replied. "I'm a Grey Warden, and I seek the assistance of the mages."

"Oh, right." He put a hand on his hip. "You're a Grey Warden are you? Prove it. Kill some darkspawn. Isn't that what you do? Come on." He made a sweeping gesture with his other arm. "Let's see some righteous Grey Wardening!"

What a strange, strange man. "There . . . aren't any darkspawn here for me to kill," she said slowly.

"Huh." He looked around, as though surprised by this revelation. "You're right. That's good, I suppose. Wouldn't want darkspawn smeared across the landscape. I hear their blood is black. Is that true? You'd know if you were a Grey Warden."

"No, it's red like any other blood."

"Well, that's a disappointment. Darkspawn. People are talking about them all the time. You'd think they'd have . . . weird blood. Or something." He shrugged. "Either way, that's hardly proof you are who you say you are."

"Here. Take a look at this." She pulled the treaty from her pocket. "I have a document that compels the Circle to help the Grey Wardens."

"Ooh! Look!" He glanced at the scroll. "Is that the Grey Warden seal? It's very pretty." He shrugged. "But you can't expect me to accept this, can you? You might have picked it up anywhere. And if you can't prove you're who you say you are, I'm not letting you across. Anyway, it was nice chatting with you. Now on your way." He waved his hand, as if shooing them away. "Right now. Go." Before Rhianna could even respond, he'd turned and began to walk toward the far end of the dock.

Rhianna glanced back at her companions. "Is it my imagination, or is there something off about him?"

"Might be lyrium poisoning," Alistair said.

"What?" Daveth sounded as surprised as Rhianna was at the suggestion.

"Lyrium poisoning. It happens eventually to all templars, although that fellow looks a bit young for it to have set in yet." Alistair must have noticed the confusion in the faces of those listening, because he continued, "The Chantry keeps a close reign on its templars. We're given lyrium regularly, you see, to help develop our magical talents. Or so they say. And, well, that means we become addicted."

"Really?" Rhianna's brow creased. "You were addicted to lyrium?"

"Me? No. Thankfully, no." He wrinkled his nose. "You . . . well, you only start receiving lyrium once you've taken your vows." He paused. "Lyrium isn't required in order to learn the templar talents. It just makes them more effective. Or so I was told. Maybe it doesn't even do that." He shrugged. "Anyway, after you take it long enough, it . . . it sort of addles the brain. Like I said, it usually only happens to templars who have been taking it for years. So maybe he's just kind of . . . odd, all on his own?"

This business with lyrium was interesting, but Rhianna didn't have the luxury of asking more questions right now. Her main concern was getting across the lake to the tower, so she followed the templar down the dock, with her companions right behind.

When the templar noticed, he turned. "Oh, hello. It's you again. Come to have a little chat, have you? Because I already told you, no one gets to the tower. No one! The tower is off-limits to all!"

"Yes, you said that already. I just wanted to find out your name."

"My name? I'm Carroll, but I can't see why you'd need to know that."

"Of course I'll need to know your name, so when I speak with the knight-commander, I can tell him what an excellent job you've been doing."

"Oh!" A wide smile crossed his face. "Yes. That would be wonderful. Except how are you going to speak to the knight-commander, since he's at the tower, and you're not?"

"Well, that's where you come in. I need you to take us across. I must speak with the knight-commander and the first enchanter. I know you were told not to bring anyone across, but this is Grey Warden business, and it's very important for us to have the support of the people at the Circle if we're to fight the darkspawn properly. If you'll please just take us there now-"

"No! I've one job and one job only, and by the Maker's shiny gold cutlery, I will do it!"

"I doubt the Maker's cutlery is made of gold," Alistair quipped. "Chances are, He doesn't have cutlery at all."

"Oh, and He's told you that, has He? Well, you're still not getting across."

"Surely," Rhianna said, "there's some way we can work this out. Is there anything you need? Coin for buying yourself a treat at the pub?"

"What good will coin do me? I'm on duty here, if you hadn't noticed. I can't just go swanning off to the pub." His shoulders sagged. "Pity, though. I am feeling a bit peckish, come to think of it. Too bad I can't go over and have a snack."

"Well," Leliana said, "I'm sure they have all sorts of food at the tower. We can go together, and make sure you have something nice to eat."

"Parshaara!" Sten stepped forward, and handed the man a small package wrapped in cloth. "Munch on these if you like! I am content to part with them if it saves us from another minute of talking to this fool."

Carroll's eyes lit up as he unwrapped the package. "Ooh! Cookies!"

"Cookies?" Daveth turned to Sten. "Where did you get cookies?"

He arched a brow. "There was a child. A fat, slovenly thing, in the last village we passed. I relieved him of these confections. He didn't need more."

"You stole cookies?" Alistair's voice was incredulous. "From a child?"

"For his own good." Sten's expression was the same stoic mask he always seemed to wear.

"You stole cookies," Alistair repeated. "From a child."

"Mmm, yummy!" Carroll took another bite, and crumbs fell past his chin. "This is hitting the spot!" He popped the rest of the cookie into his mouth, and then tucked the remainder carefully into a pocket. "All right, you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours, yes? We can go across now, if you want."

Rhainna blinked at how quickly the man had changed his tune. Cookies. Stolen or not, the cookies has done the trick. Well, Rhianna certainly wasn't going to complain about that. Carroll helped them into the boat, and soon he had rowed them across the lake, and into the underground cavern.

Unlike Rhianna's first visit here, no one waited to announce their arrival or escort them upstairs, so Rhianna led the way up the steps into the main entry hall.

The hall was dimly lit, and seemed darker than Rhianna remembered it – or perhaps that was just her imagination, brought on by the grim faces of those few people in the hall. All of them were templars, and Knight-Commander Greagoir was among them.

He gestured with his hands as he spoke to one of the other templars. ". . . and I want two men stationed within sight of the doors at all times. Do not open the doors without my express consent. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ser." The man bowed, and hurried toward the doors that led into the tower.

"Now we wait, and pray," Greagoir said, seemingly to himself.

"The doors are barred," Alistair murmured. "Are they keeping people out, I wonder? Or in?"

When Greagoir turned at Rhianna's approached, the frown deepened upon his face. "How in the world did you get here? I told Carroll not to bring anyone across the lake." He put up his hands, as if signaling Rhianna to stop coming toward him. "I'm sorry, but the tower is closed. We are dealing with a very delicate situation, and I must ask you to leave now, for your own safety." He looked exhausted and haggard; the skin of his face seemed to sag, and dark smudges lurked beneath his eyes.

"I understand there's a problem here in the Circle," Rhianna replied, "and Carroll did make it clear that he had instructions not to bring anyone over, but I'm afraid my business can't wait." She steeled herself for his reaction; he was sure to be even less happy about this request now than he had been when Duncan had made it. "I need to speak with the First Enchanter about giving further aid to the Grey Wardens."

"You." His eyes widened slightly at her approach. "I remember you. You're the recruit who was here with Duncan. A proper Grey Warden now, are you?"

"I am."

"I thought all of you were killed at Ostagar." He shrugged. "Nice to see you're not dead."

Rhianna arched a brow. "I remember you were averse to the idea of sending additional assistance against the Blight, but I'm afraid it's going to be necessary, if we hope to save Ferelden from the darkspawn. As you pointed out, a great many lives were lost at Ostagar."

"I am weary of the Grey Wardens' ceaseless requests," he growled, but then he held up a hand, almost as in surrender. "But it is your right, I know that much." He sounded almost defeated. "Be that as it may, I'm afraid you'll find no assistance here. I can spare none of my templars, and the mages are . . . indisposed."

"Indisposed?" Alistair asked. "What does that mean?"

Greagoir shrugged. "I shall speak plainly. The tower is no longer under our control. We were too complacent, and abominations and demons stalk the tower's halls."

"Abominations? And demons?" Rhianna couldn't keep the surprise from her tone. "How is that possible?"

"How it is possible? That question can only stem from a lack of experience with those cursed with magic. Creatures of the Fade can use mages to enter our world, so demons are drawn to magic users like moths to a flame. A mage in such a spirit's clutches is changed, his flesh twisted, his mind shattered. It is only by willpower and sheer luck that more of them do not succumb." He paused. "And now, so many have turned that we had no choice but to bar the doors."

"It sounds to me," Alistair said, "as though your templars haven't been doing their jobs."

Greagoir's frown deepened. "My men did what they could, but it wasn't enough. We were prepared for one or two abominations . . . not the horde that fell upon us."

"What do you intend to do now?" Rhianna asked.

"The only thing I can do. The grand cleric has granted the Right of Annulment, but we must wait to attack the tower until reinforcements arrive from Denerim. If we enter the tower now, we will be massacred. I cannot order my men to their deaths. While the door holds, we wait."

Maker. So what Ser Bryant had told them in Lothering was true.

"You cannot really intend to annul the Circle." Leliana's voice was strained. "Are there not still innocent mages locked away in the tower? You cannot kill all of them."

"It's probably already too late for the mages," Alistair said. "No doubt, they're already dead. And any abominations remaining inside must be dealt with no matter what."

"Exactly right," Greagoir agreed. "When last we entered the tower, we saw only demons. I realized we could not defeat them, so I told my men to flee." He turned to Leliana. "I locked away not just mages, but my templars as well. I have to assume they are already dead. All of them. No one could have survived those monstrous creatures. As your companion said, any abominations must be dealt with. Everything in the tower must be destroyed so it can be made safe again."

"But mages are not defenseless," Rhianna insisted. "Surely, some of them could still be alive."

"You did not see the chaos, the destruction, the pure evil that has taken hold of the tower. The mages are lost. It is something we must accept." Greagoir turned away, and ran a hand through his hair. "Even if some of them yet live, we have no way of knowing whether or not a demon has already possessed them, and lurks patiently inside. If these abominations are allowed to escape the tower, an unprepared village or town would be devastated should even one such creature chance upon it. We cannot allow that to happen, so they must all be killed." He turned back to Rhianna, his voice slightly louder than before, as though trying to convince himself this was the right thing to do. "It is the innocent folk of Ferelden who matter. I would lay down my life, and the life of any mage, to protect them. No abomination must cross this threshold."

They must all be killed.

Solona's face flashed in Rhianna's memory. The young mage had hated living here, and perhaps this is why. Greagoir spoke of the mages almost as though they weren't people, but merely monsters in disguise.

"Let me go in." Rhianna blinked with surprise as soon as she'd said it; entering a tower full of demons could only be a bad idea. But something inside of her had snapped at the thought of so many innocent people locked away and abandoned to die. Mages being picked off, one by one by demons, and then, those who did manage to survive being murdered by templars when the Right of Annulment arrived. "I'll deal with the abominations, and bring back any survivors."

"You'll deal with the abominations?" He held her gaze. "Do you know what they are? They are madness and cruelty made flesh. A single abomination is a force to be reckoned with, and you will face more than one. Are you certain you will be strong enough to deal with them, when even templars are loathe to enter the tower?"

Of course she wasn't certain. She'd never even seen an abomination, let alone killed one.

"Don't worry about us," she replied. "We'll kill anything that needs to be killed inside of that tower."

Greagoir studied her through narrowed eyes. "I should wait. Wait for the templars from Denerim. But . . . these abominations must be contained at all costs, and I do not have the luxury of refusing help when it is offered." The lines of his face softened. "If you are able to slaughter the abominations and end this, I would owe you much. Enough that I would pledge my templars to your cause." He paused. "Anything to end the horror that has taken over the Ferelden Circle."

Rhianna glanced back at her companions. The humans all had varying levels of disbelief etched into their features, except Morrigan, who looked almost angry. Sten, too, did not seem surprised. He stood tall, his well-muscled arms crossed in front of him, and he nodded to Rhianna, just once.

She turned back to Greagoir. "All right. I am willing to do this, along with those among my companions who agree to come with me." She wasn't going to force anyone to join her in what sounded likely to be a death trap.

"Very well." Greagoir tilted his head to one side. "A word of caution: once you cross that threshold, there is no turning back. The great doors must remain barred until I have proof that it is safe. I will only believe it is over if the First Enchanter stands before me and tells me it is so. If Irving has fallen . . . then the Circle is lost, and must be destroyed."

Rhianna let out a slow breath. "I understand."

"Then may Andraste lend you her courage." He crossed his arms in front of his chest, and bowed to her. She returned the salute.

She turned to the others. "Look, I honestly have no idea what we might find inside," she said quietly, "and I'm not going to ask any of you to come with me unless you are willing. It sounds as though there's a reasonably good chance that whoever goes inside might not make it back out again." She shrugged. "So . . ."

"I'm with you," Daveth said, standing a bit straighter. "Always."

"Me, too," Alistair added. Leliana and Sten both nodded in agreement.

Rhianna turned her gaze on Morrigan. The witch stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest, her weight on one leg, and a deep scowl upon her face. She inhaled, and let the breath out again through her mouth. Rhianna merely waited to see what Morrigan would say.

"I wonder why we are even making the effort." Morrigan's tone was sharp. "Why bother to rescue these pathetic creatures who allow themselves to be corralled like cattle? Look at how they live: servants of the Chantry. Now their masters have chosen death for them. I say let them have it."

"Morrigan?" Leliana sounded shocked. "Why do you treat the Circle with such contempt? You could have been one of them, if things were different. If you had been found by the templars."

"If that were so, I would have flung myself from the top of this tower years ago. I will allow neither mind nor body to be subjugated in such a dehumanizing fashion. Besides," she scoffed, "There was never any danger of that happening. My mother taught me from a very young age that my magic would keep me safe, and she made certain I knew how to protect myself. I was not raised to fear the templars; my mother made it clear that they should fear me. Not so the pathetic fools who live here. They lack respect for themselves and their own power. Why should I respect them?"

"Not everyone has your instinct for survival," Rhianna said gently. "And not everyone was raised by a mother such as your own. Perhaps it is not your respect they deserve, but your compassion?"

"Compassion?" Morrigan leveled her amber eyes at Rhianna in an unhappy stare, but then she sighed. "Oh, all right. Have it your way. If you are determined we should help these weak creatures, I will not stand in the way." She rolled her eyes. "I'm certainly not going to wait out here with these cowardly templars."

"Thank you," Rhianna replied. She met each of her companions' gazes in turn. "Let's go see what awaits us inside."

A templar stood in front of the huge double doors that led into the tower. His helmet shielded his face, so it was impossible to tell how he felt about letting these newcomers pass.

This was probably a very bad idea. Then again, dressing up like a Chantry sister and walking into a camp of Gwaren Regulars had hardly been a good one, and she'd managed to survive that.

Rhianna nodded at the templar, and he pulled open the doors. The hinges protested with a thin, high-pitched creak as the door swung open. With one final glance back at the knight-commander, Rhianna led the way into the tower, her companions close at her heel.

When they had all passed through, the templar pushed the doors shut again. They closed with a disheartening thud, and the scrape of metal against metal as the key turned in the lock.

For good or ill, it was done.

‹O›

o

‹O›

o

‹O›

Many thanks to my beta readers, Sehnsuchttraum, Psyche Sinclair, and Amanda Kitswell, and also to my wonderful reviewers, SwomeeSwan, Skidney, Milly-finalfantasy, KrystylSky, Kiru Kyuu, and Arsinoe de Blassenville.

‹›‹O›‹›