Chapter 28: Saunière

"It's best not to disturb the Professeur when he is deep in study," Tassilo whispered to Hawke.

Saunière had been reading for the better part of the morning. Thanks to his assistant's stroke of genius, they were sitting in the back of a wool merchant's wagon on their way to Cumberland. He decided that now was the best time to translate and piece together the fragments of the Tevinter Grimoire and compare them with the evidence that he had discovered in Nessum and Trevis. Despite the countless times they had been side-tracked over the past few weeks, the sweet seductive call of research never ceased to tease him. Finally, he was able to nestle into the wool sacks and surrender to the ancient literature. Words were like a woman's finger that travelled slowly down his spine—he could not stop her once she started. Having ignored a majority of the chatter between Tassilo and Hawke, he believed that this recent interruption was a sign that he was ready for a break.

Travel to Cumberland had come at a price. Tassilo and Hawke's weapons were drawn, and they succeeded in appearing both professional and somewhat intimidating. Although upon closer inspection, Saunière had to admit, they looked a little too comfortable. He supposed the sway of the wagon and the billowing sacks of fleece might have had something to do with it. It had been years since Saunière had taken the Imperial Highway from Nevarra City to Cumberland and he was not aware if this had become a particularly dangerous stretch of road. It did not much matter. It was a ride to the coast. Saunière was anxious to get as much study in as he could over the course of the day, hoping to get the bulk done before booking passage to Jader. His stomach lurched at the thought of their pending sea voyage.

The road was quiet, as were the rolling green hills that smelled of spring. The driver, in his wide-brimmed hat, was hunched low, keeping the reins slack on the backs of the horses. He did not seem at all on edge either. That alone seemed to chase away the apprehension he had carried all the way from Tylus Canyon. They had helped load the wagon on the city's outskirts. Saunière did not feel at all comfortable riding in the back of an uncovered wagon, for fear of the wrong sort taking notice. But now, he was glad for it—the day was glorious and it would have been a shame to waste it under a moldy tarpaulin.

"We risked our necks for that bloody thing. I think I'm within my rights to ask what's so special about it." Hawke grumbled, fidgeting with the pommel of Saunière's former sword which was swung in a carefree manner over his shoulder.

It had come to Saunière's attention following Hawke's return from the National Library that something unusual had happened. Tassilo had mentioned that he was able to breach the ward rather easily, a little too easily, he thought. But something had transpired, and even though the mage remained silent on the matter, it had painted his expression ever since they had left Nevarra City. Saunière fondled the six-pointed star encircling a flaming sun that had been burnished into the leather cover. He knew it was worth the risk and almost felt giddy at the prospect of finally getting to share his conclusions.

"He will publish his findings in due time." Tassilo replied, although Saunière could hear an impatient edge in his tone.

Deciding to end the suspense that had built over the course of the morning, Saunière cleared his throat. "I've completed some initial translations and managed to piece together a coherent narrative. Care to hear some preliminary findings?"

"It would be an honour, Professeur, esteemed scholar of Andrastian theology.' Hawke's reply was dripping with sarcasm, although his wink suggested that he was merely teasing. There was little chance that Hawke would actually admit to an interest in his work. Even the dog cocked his head and appeared to listen.

The professor scanned his hasty notes and rubbed his chin in thought. He allowed a considerable pause to pass as he appreciated the sound of the wooden wheels click-clack over the gravelly road.

"What you are about to hear is nothing short of … explosive," he said carefully.

"Well… I am no stranger to that sort of thing. Read on." Hawke said, adjusting his posture.

Saunière nodded and started to recite the words that had not been voiced for centuries. He wanted to honour this moment. It would be the highpoint of his entire career.

"You are my blessed friend, ma sa'falon. It was more than fate that brought us together. If this letter seems at all out of the ordinary, please read on, for there is much to explain.

"Against the odds, you and I have risen against our masters, with nothing more than tinder and broken glass. Our struggle transcends our mortal pains—slave against master, elf against human, magister against barbarian. You and I fight for a freedom that transcends this earthly existence. Our bodies and our souls resist this oppression, this darkness, this void. While my candle still burns bright, I must write and tell you all that you do not know. I pass on to you the flame that you must ignite within yourself, so you can share it amongst your people. For I am the lightening and the Alamarri are the drought ravaged forest. Even as you wait in thirst, I will strike in the middle of the night and together we will blaze and consume all in our path. Only then will it be possible to confront Tevinter and remove magic from their arsenal. I give you this story as I have given you my heart."

He looked up. While Hawke seemed to ruminate on what he had just read, a tear had formed in the corner of Tassilo's eye.

"Divine mercies… professeur," his assistant whispered in amazement.

Hawke furrowed a brow. "Wait a minute! You're going to have to give me a little more explanation."

Tassilo continued to gape. "It's a letter from Shartan to Andraste. He refers to her as ma sa'falon. My one friend. Andraste has yet to confront the Maker. There are no existing documents that relate to this period in history. It also sounds as if they may have been lovers. Please, continue."

It was hard to tell if Hawke appreciated the implications of what he was reading. Instead of launching into a lecture, knowing there would be plenty forthcoming, he continued to read.

"Ma sa'falon, when the Alamarri arrived on these shores, they clung to the stories of their grandfathers. They revered the essence of the trees and the wind, honoured the power of the wolf and begged mercy upon the rain, but they did not see the One. The Alamarri always saw themselves as separate from the world and from their cruel gods. Andraste, ma sa'falon, how lonely you must feel, to know your gods have turned their backs on the plight of your people. In my heart, I weep for the desperation that has settled into your soul. I am writing to tell you that this need not be.

Listen closely. The people of Elvhenan sang songs that whispered of Sa to your forbearers. This is a truth we do not tell, but hold in our hearts. We do not sing or speak of Sa, for the One is beyond thought, beyond reason, beyond dreaming, beyond the beyond. Words can only point to shadows and half-truths. The Keepers tell us that the Sa that can be spoken of is not the beloved Sa. Nameless and thoughtless it is. However, try and hear me, ma sa'falon. For this story needs to be told. I pray to Sa's compassionate mercy that my telling is not construed as insolence. I tell you with a pure heart."

"Sa? The One? This is new, Professeur." Tassilo interrupted.

Saunière grinned and furtively replied, "Indeed, my friend."

"It's just an elvish term for Maker, right?" Hawke asked.

Saunière felt a small victory that he had caught the Champion's attention. He closed his eyes and shook his head and then continued reading. Hawke passed him the water skin so he could quell the rasp that had developed in his voice. It gave his reading character, but it also involved frequent throat clearing and coughing—both of which interrupted the cadence of the passage.

"The ancient shemlens were full of lust and greed, anxious to occupy our land and claim it as their own. For you know this hunger. You've felt it too. We cannot fault them, for they had left their dying lands poor and broken, chasing their own dreams of freedom. A heart so full of want can only half-hear our story. The light of Sa was inside them too, but they failed to open their eyes and hear our whispers. Still, many generations have come to pass and Sa's light burns brightly in your people, but yet remain blind to it.

Ma sa'falon, open your eyes, see the light! Come and touch the Divine flame, watch it radiate through the darkness of your history. Come, embrace the One. Hear our story and take it to your people. Only then will you have the strength to stand against Tevinter, the godless, children of the deceiver. You know that your gods do not listen, that they are powerless, that they are not there. Now listen to me with a full heart and an empty mind. Shed your hatred and your wanton desire to conquer. Approach Sa with a pure spirit, ma sa'falon."

Saunière did not mind Tassilo's animated reactions to what he read. In fact he quite enjoyed peeking over the parchment to see him lean forward, hang on every word and then sit back with wide eyes, hands resting on his cheeks in bewilderment. Finally, when Tassilo could contain himself no longer, Saunière paused again and allowed him to process what he had just heard. Despite the utter exuberance of being the first to piece together this letter, a sickening feeling grew in the back of his mind. The Chantry would not feel the same excitement. In fact, he expected both the Rector and the Divine would want to make this document go away. The document, he had a feeling, was worth killing over.

Before his dark thoughts got the best of him, Kessler's chuckling pulled him out. "What say you Tass? Do tell me, for I am afraid this academic mumbo-jumbo is quite over my head."

"But don't you see, Kess? These are Shartan's words." Tassilo pulled off his tricorn hat, held it to his chest and looked to the sky.

"My friend, I will admit my ignorance in this regard only. What has you so astonished?"

"I think, and correct me if I am wrong Professeur, but according to this letter, a visitation from the Maker did not convert Andraste—it was Shartan."

Saunière nodded. "Let's see what else he reveals, shall we?"

"I have a feeling that the Chantry will like this, as much as they liked my friend Anders' little explosive surprise," mumbled Hawke.

Saunière kept his opinion to himself, although he had to agree.

"There is a glorious energy in our universe, beyond the sun and clouds, beyond the moon and sky. From the power of Sa, came the being that set our existence in motion—Sasule. So few speak of her, so it is time, ma sa'falon to speak of her again and how she stumbled, how she fell, how she became all that surrounds us. But Sasule has become lost. She lost her way, just as you have, my friend. You have suffered long enough and no longer must you experience the pain of being irrevocably ripped from your source, forever feeling separate, forever different, forever searching. I have come with tidings that you need no longer bear this pain. Sasule has begun her journey home. You bear her mark and must lead Sasule to the Sa."

"My apologies again professeur. Sasule? I have never heard of this Goddess. Even the elves will find this tale hard to believe."

Saunière groaned a little in agreement and Tassilo rattled on. "Let's look at the etymology of her name. Sa, again meaning the one…"

"And sule meaning endure or certainty. It's close to the term sasume, meaning wisdom."

"A story that neither the elves or the Chantry will buy, but a hedge mage is willing to kill for. Please tell me there is mention of the dwarves and Qunari" Kessler said.

Saunière grinned. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?"

Tassilo made a sort of squeal in the back of his throat that expressed the depths of his eagerness. Following this, he flicked his hands in such a way to tell the professor to read on.

"Even before the time of the humans, Elvhan Keepers journeyed in spirit, leaving their bodies in safe keeping with the clan, to explore the forests, the mountains, the lands beyond the oceans. With time, the Keepers grew brave and searched the skies, discovering an extraordinary realm beyond the moon, past the sun. We saw that our land, our home, is nothing more than a blue-green pearl nestled on an arm of a vast pinwheel of stars, spinning through the heavens. The only evidence of our great astral neighbourhood here in Thedas, is to look to the sky when the moon is dark. Look up and see the great White River. Those, ma sa'falon, are the countless stars that soar with us and blaze through the heavens. The Keepers tell us, that a dark void punctures the very heart of this spinning wheel—like the centre of a flower or the eye of a hurricane. I know you and your people fear the dark, but fear not this place. This is the realm of the Sa, whole, perfect, balanced and full of potential."

The professeur smiled and smoothed the parchment on his lap. Sometimes the beauty of the words was too much for him to bear.

"Tassilo, notice how the story's cosmogony does not separate the divine from nature. Fascinating."

Not missing a beat, Tassilo leaned forward and whispered to Hawke, "The study of how the universe came into being."

"Our lost legends tell us that from the very heart of the wheel of stars, Sa dreamed the great gods. Sa dreamed of Elgar'nan, Mythal and all the Creator gods you have heard our storytellers recount in front of the fire. We do not tell strangers of how the creator was created. Sa dreamed all our Gods and they all bear Sa's perfection and light. When we tell the stories of Sylaise teaching the Elven to use fire, we are revering Sa's light at the same time. Our stories serve a higher purpose, well hidden from the wanton thoughts of Tevinter. They offer more than explanation. For like a fire in the rain, the light must be protected. Our tales have served us well for many generations.

"So the reason that no one has heard of this Sa-being before is because it is being purposefully hidden?" Hawke asked.

"That's what Shartan claims. Don't forget, most elven folk-stories are part of an oral tradition. Unlike a codified sacred text—such as the Chant of Light—oral traditions are much more flexible, with regard to how a community recognizes canon. Another important aspect of oral traditions involves initiation. Where the Chant of Light is available to all believers, some oral traditions are only accessible to those who have been granted permission to hear it," replied Tassilo. His long boney fingers were pressed together and he wiggled them as he spoke.

"In this case," Saunière continued, "I suspect the initiates who knew of Sa, only came to this knowledge through experience."

"So is Shartan sticking his neck out in writing to Andraste about this?" Hawke asked.

Saunière shrugged. "Without a doubt. The written record is sparse at best for this period of time. There is no indication from already accepted history that Shartan had any conflict with the Elves. But this, of course, does not mean it never happened. He is breaking a long line of transmission of sacred teaching. That cannot be easily dismissed. But at this point, we cannot determine why. The one question that begs asking is how does Shartan come to know this? The history that we are given is rather unremarkable—he was a leader of a group of slaves who rose against Tevinter and never lived to see the establishment of the Dales. No one has ever spoken of him as a Keeper, or having access to a clan. Most of us assumed he was din'vehn—clanless."

"You know Professeur, we should really find some of the clans that now occupy the Arlathan Forest. There are rumours that there are hermetic Keepers there… perhaps they might be able to corroborate some of this." Tassilo said.

"My dear Tass. One thing at a time. Hasn't it taken us long enough to get to Ferelden?" Hawke jibbed.

"We could travel the northern coast. It is on the way to Tevinter. We'll end up there, I am sure."

Saunière launched into the next passage before Hawke could dissent.

"The world we inhabit came about due to a mistake. Let me tell you that story, ma sa'falon.

"Do not confuse Sa as a father-creator. Sa does not create directly in the way that a craftsman makes a bow. The One, the Sa, our perfection, flows forth, carrying life-giving potential as a river feeds an ocean, like the wind carries a seed. It offers its pure, singularity so that chance and change can flourish. It came to pass, after dreaming of the Creators, that Sa, dreamed of Sasule and Dirthera. And thus they began their divine dance through the heavens, leaving the potential for life in each of their steps."

"My apologies, Professeur. Sasule, we have established is Wisdom. Dirthera has elements of the word telling and story."

"I think it's an arcane word for truth. And in this case, Sasule and Dirthera are a female and male pair."

"Interesting. Read on then." Tassilo concluded with a nod.

"Sasule being the youngest of the two and ultimately curious, wondered what would happen if she were to emerge from the source, from the Sa, alone. For the first time, a Goddess dreams alone, without her counterpart. Sa's inherent law of harmony and balance are disrupted. Enthralled by the possibilities of mortal singularity, she drifts away from her mate and from Sa, departs from the cosmic centre and plunges into the realm of external, swirling chaos outside the great centre of the wheel.

"Her plunge had unintended consequences. Her very act of separation brings forth Din'inan into existence, a god so jealous and conceited that he thought he was the one true and mighty Maker. This god, using his mother's inspired light became capable of creating his own distorted beings, in his own twisted image, thinking he alone possessed this power. In turn, Din'inan, drunk with power, creates the Forgotten Ones. To you, they have come to be known as the Old Gods, progenitor of the Darkspawn. They falsely believe Din'inan to be the ultimate creator."

"Hold on there, professor." Hawke said, holding up his hand with a scowl. Saunière could not be more pleased that he had not only captured the man's attention, but his telling was also capable of rousing emotion. "You're telling me that the Maker… is actually a cosmic reject? And he's not even at the top of the food-chain?"

"It would seem that way." Saunière replied matter-of-factly.

"I've never heard the Maker referred to as Din'inan before." Tassilo stated, staring out the back of the wagon with a wistful expression. "Din'inan… no eyes."

Hawke chuckled. "Does the Chantry know about this?" He thought longer on what he had said. "Bride of the Fucking Maker… If the Chantry thinks I am associated with this on top of the Kirkwall Chantry… what's that saying… out of the frying pan..."

"And into the Void." Tassilo sounded grim.

"This is a whole new level of heresy, gentlemen." Saunière crossed his leg and wove his fingers across a knee. Whether it was the weather or the company, he was almost loathe to admit that he had not enjoyed himself this much while discussing an academic text for many years. He realized that his Orlesian colleagues were far too concerned with their reputations to come even remotely this close to broaching the topics they were discussing so openly. Somehow, that seemed to make the breeze smell sweeter and the birds chirp even more merrily. He was not lost on this contradiction.

"To be honest, I am not all that surprised to learn that the Maker is nothing more than an arrogant asshole with mommy issues." Hawke nibbled on a fingernail and then used the tip of the sword to clean under each one. "I'm interested in Shartan's side of the story with regard to magic. I am sure that will make the Divine's toes curl."

Saunière saw his opportunity. "Well, shall I continue then? Let me finish the account. Then we will discuss it when I am finished. "

"Din'inan, full of pride and arrogance, stole his mother's power and constructed a habitat for himself and his many sons. We understand this place as the Fade. The Alamarri see this as the land of death and dreams.

'For I am the Maker and this is my Word. Let this Word became all that might be.'

"Sasule, heard Din'inan's boasting and thus named him. 'For you are without eyes, you are blind and mistaken'

"Din'inan, conceited and certain that Sasule was part of his own created host, answered, 'If any other being exists before me, for I am the Maker and there is no other beside me, let it be forth shown to me!'

"And in a demonstration of his imagined power, he created the Old Gods. So ashamed that her progeny would create something so ugly, Sasule shaped her inner light to birth our earth, a place of beauty and innocence, a place of respite from the Fade. She infused the light of Sa with that of the Sun, to allow it to sustain and nourish the world below and prevent the darkness Din'inan had created to infest that which she had manifest. She created the moon to guide the waters, and break the long night darkness.

"When he saw what she had brought forth from her womb, Din'inan, ever jealous, hollowed the passages beneath the mountains to provide shelter for his creations, for be believed that his sons had the right to occupy and rule these lands.

"In her final act, her strength beginning to wane as the moon, she dreamed of the Elves, Humans, Dwarves and Kossith, shaping them all from her source and kissing them with Sa's power, saying—"

Saunière looked up and pointed at the document. "See, what did I tell you? Everyone is bloody-well implicated in this."

Hawke scowled. "Great. Last thing we need are a couple of Qunaris on our tale accusing us of poisoning the Qun with basra vashedan."

Tassilo laughed out loud. "Your Qunlat is impressive. Who taught you?"

"Maybe when the professor is done, I'll tell you how I ran the Qunari from Kirkwall. Continue on…"

Saunière cleared this throat dramatically.

'You shall be brothers and sisters and protect my body from Din'inan's corruption.'

What she did not anticipate was that he had breathed the power of the Fade into his creation. Sasule, weakened by her separation from Sa, saw that they would have power over her caretakers.

"The Dwarves, so stout and hearty, she placed under the mountain. They were deemed the protectors, bound to Sa and Sasule to protect the land from Din'inan's filth. Upon the land, she entrusted the elven and humankind to be caretakers for the trees and the land. They were given the lore of the animals and plants; they were given emotions to love one another, their home, and Sasule. Finally, they were given imagination and reason for which to build and prosper throughout the ages. To the Kossith, she provided logic and fortitude. With their strength, they would serve as guardians, keeping the passions of the humans and elf-kind in check. To each these creations, she gave them voice, so they could teach and learn from one another.

"But she underestimated Din'inan's power. His shadow crept deep from inside the earth and brought wroth upon her children. Hatred blackened their hearts, jealousy made them craft weapons to use upon each other. His creatures, one by one, began to abduct her children and consumed them, corrupting them, devouring the light of Sa, sending the power back through the Fade to Din'inan.

"Sasule's separation from Sa, traps her within her own creation. She becomes the very essence of all that grows and dies, but she lingers in an endless dream, forced to witness the sorrow her fall has brought to her children. In a last desperate act to protect Sa's light, she breathes herself into her children upon the land. She hopes that with this light they can bring balance. And under the mountain, she bestows an equally powerful gift, lyrium, and the dwarves the power to shape it without an appetite to consume it.

"My time with this quill and parchment, my love, my heart, ma sa'falon, has ended. Sasule dreams, my one-friend. The spirit-journeys of the Keeper tell of brother elf and sister human coming together and using their magic to wake Sasule. Together, we must. You and I. There is more to tell. Until my next missive, I am forever your one true friend."

Saunière set down the paper. No dared speak or stir the silence. A warm breeze caught under his hat, threatening to lift it from his head and send it sailing over the meadowlands. He pulled it off and wiped his brow, setting it safely beside him. Appreciating the clearness of the sky and allowing the words he had just read to echo in his bones, his heart filled. For the first time in his life, he felt that something greater than he existed. He decided he would allow the emotion to settle and think on it some more, for he knew that the racing of his mind could sometimes play seductive tricks. If he were able to maintain reason and logic with this feeling, he might not chase it away, or convince himself that it was an obstacle to the sharp discernment that he had come to depend upon.

Tassilo seemed in a similar state of bafflement. He rested an elbow on his knee and clutched his deeply furrowed brow as he allowed what he had just heard to sink in. Hawke was also quiet and had taken to stroking his hound.

The wagon had just reached the top of a steep incline. As they crested, Saunière could see the sparkle of the Waking Sea stretch out to the clear horizon. From this vantage point, he could barely make out a dark smudge far into a dreamy haze—Jader.

He paid close attention to the water, saw it from a whole new perspective— not as a means of his own personal torture—but as a great wonder. How perfect that it held the power to conjure both serenity and terror. All it took was a mere change in the direction of the wind.

"And what are we supposed to do with this?" Kessler asked, in the same dream-like state as he. "Please don't tell me we are to start a new-fangled religious order. That would be a very bad idea."

Tassilo was looking over the original documents from which Saunière had pieced together this narrative. "Look at this professeur. What are these markings? They don't look phonetic. Are they are some sort of pictogram perhaps? Maybe they are archaic runes." He pointed to what he was referring. They peppered the document, showing up in margins and between the lines. This was his next challenge.

"Yes. I noticed them. We'll have to look at that more closely. And to answer your question, Kessler," Saunière had noticed that Hawke had stopped calling him Old Man. Perhaps there was some deeper magic within the pages that he had just read that had knocked the chip off the Champion's shoulder. "I don't quite know what we should do with it, but it is taking us to Ferelden. Let's see where else it will take us."


A/N: Bioware own all. My thanks to DoorbellSpider and KiraTamarion for their gifts of editing and encouragement. Sorry this took so long! This required some thought… and guess I take after the Ents. It takes me a very long long time for me to say something (And I am sticking with that excuse!). I really appreciate everyone who continues to read and review—you have no idea how encouraging your presence is. I promise the next chapter won't be so long in the making.