8 Kingsway, 9:30 Dragon
Redcliffe Castle

‹›‹O›‹›

An archer raised her bow. She nocked an arrow with its tip set aflame, pulled back her arm, and with a release of two fingers, let the arrow fly. It soared in an arc over the water, and landed directly on target. The small boat that floated on the placid surface of Lake Calenhad burst into flames, along with the body it carried. More than a dozen floating pyres were already ablaze on the surface of the lake, and there were still many more villagers to be sent off to the Maker in this way.

It was a beautiful sight, really, although unutterably sad. But Rhianna knew it was the first step Redcliffe would take in moving past recent events. Before the people of this town could rebuild, they needed to properly mourn their dead.

At least the problems that plagued Redcliffe were at an end - the demon inside of Connor Guerrin had been destroyed, and the walking undead along with it.

Three days earlier, Rhianna and Alistair had arrived at the Circle Tower to a somewhat less than warm welcome.

"Wardens." First Enchanter Irving's smile hadn't reached all the way to his eyes. "It is a . . . pleasure to see you again so soon, although I must admit, somewhat unexpected." He paused. "Surely, you realize we're not prepared to send any further assistance against the Blight at this time."

"I understand that," Rhianna replied. "We're not here about the Blight. It's another matter that brings us to the Circle. Something else entirely. Perhaps we could speak in private?"

"Of course." Irving ushered them into an unpopulated room; there seemed to be no shortage of empty spaces like this, with so few people in residence. Once they were seated, Irving asked, "So, if this is not about the Blight, why are you here?"

"We're here on behalf of Eamon Guerrin's son," Rhianna began. "The boy has shown signs of magic."

"The Arl of Redcliffe's son is a mage?" Irving arched a brow. "That is unexpected. Well, I suppose such things are always unexpected, aren't they? But it seems especially so when it's a member of the nobility." He pursed his lips. "But that still doesn't explain why you are here. This hardly sounds like the sort of thing the Grey Wardens would involve themselves in. How old is the boy?"

"He's ten," Rhianna replied. "And you're right. There is more to the story. We're involved because we arrived in Redcliffe to find things in a bad state. The arlessa had hoped to keep Connor's magic a secret from everyone. Including his father."

Irving leaned forward. "Every time I have heard a story begin that way, it ended in disaster."

"I wish I could tell you this was different." Rhianna shrugged. "But it isn't. The arlessa found an apostate - Jowan, in fact - to tutor the boy. Only . . . well, it's a complicated series of events, some of which I don't fully understand, but the long and short of it is that Connor managed to use one of Jowan's spell books to summon a demon."

"The boy has become an abomination?"

"Yes," Alistair confirmed. "That's exactly what happened."

"He's not controlled by the demon all the time, though," Rhianna added. "That's why we're here. I understand there is a way to free Connor Guerrin from the demon without killing the boy. A ritual of some sort."

Irving's gaze narrowed. "There is a ritual, yes. It's rather involved, and not something we do very often. But I suppose for the son of an arl, we do have the resources here to perform this ritual. Have you brought the boy with you?"

"No," Rhianna replied. "And I don't think it will be possible to bring him to the Circle; I doubt the demon would allow that. So I thought perhaps you, and some of the other mages, could come to Redcliffe, and bring whatever supplies you need."

Irving let out a slow breath. "You ask a great deal. Especially now. We've yet to clear away all the debris of our recent . . . troubles. Let alone begin rebuilding. This ritual would make quite a dent in our lyrium stores, and I hardly have mages to spare at the moment."

"I understand." She held his gaze. "Even so, I would like to see it done."

"Why? Why does this matter so much to you?"

She wouldn't talk about Oren, or Teagan, or Isolde's tearstained face, or any of the other reasons that made her chest feel tight when she thought about them. So she gave only the most pragmatic. "A boy's life is at stake. A boy who was too young to know that he was doing something wrong, making a horrible mistake. If there's a way to save him, don't we have a responsibility to do it? Especially," she lifted a brow, "since the apostate in question escaped from this Circle, and none of this would have happened if he'd not ended up in Redcliffe."

Irving hesitated. "Of course." He gave a shallow nod. "It shall be done." He stood, crossed to the doorway, and spoke to a templar who stood just outside. "Please tell Elspeth I would like to speak with her." Irving turned back to his guests. "I trust that Wynne is there, in Redcliffe?"

"Yes, she is."

"Good. And of course, I'm sure Greagoir will insist on a templar escort for us. Probably two." He sighed. "Perhaps I should look at this as an adventure. I must admit the idea of getting out of the Tower for a few days does sound pleasant. As long as we don't get rained on." He shook his head, and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he caught Rhianna's gaze. "Jowan is involved in this, you say? How in the world did he end up in Redcliffe?"

"That's something I'm not entirely clear on. Apparently, he was hired to tutor Connor. Arlessa Isolde wanted someone to train the boy just enough that he could hide his magic, and no one would ever have to find out. But for some reason, Jowan poisoned Arl Eamon - I have no idea why - and that is what drove Connor to experiment with Jowan's books. The boy was trying to help his father."

"Jowan poisoned the arl? That's-"

"I beg your pardon, First Enchanter." A woman stood in the doorway. "You asked to speak with me."

Something about her seemed familiar, but when the woman glanced in Rhianna's direction, no spark of recognition flickered in her face.

"Ah, yes. Elspeth. Please come in," Irving said. "I need you to speak to Owain about gathering supplies for a ritual. Lyrium, enough to cast a protective ward that will allow a mage to enter the Fade."

"Of course, First Enchanter." Her voice was calm, and her tone remarkably flat, almost as though she were asleep and only dreaming the conversation. "When do you wish the supplies to be ready."

"As soon as possible. We'll be taking them with us to Redcliffe. And I would like you to inform Neria and Petra that they will accompany me; please ask them to prepare."

"Neria and Petra are to prepare for a journey to Redcliffe." This must have been an unusual request, but Elspeth's face showed no surprise. "Of course, First Enchanter. When will you be leaving?"

"As soon as you can gather the supplies."

"Of course, First Enchanter. I will bring the supplies to the boat dock promptly." As the woman turned, Rhianna remembered where she had seen her before.

"Elspeth? Wait."

The woman turned to face Rhianna. "Yes?"

"We've met before, haven't we? A few weeks ago, when the Circle was under attack."

"Yes, we have met," she intoned. "You are the woman who spared my life."

Maker.

It really was her. The blood mage they'd found, the one who promised to go to the Chantry for penance. But what was wrong with her? Why hadn't she said anything, or even acknowledged that they had met before? And what was the reason for the strange way she spoke, the constant sameness of her voice?

"You do remember. I wasn't sure. It didn't seem as though you recognized me."

"Of course I remember. It was an uncomfortable time that I would rather forget, but I was grateful for your kindness."

"I suppose I'm surprised that you're still here. I thought you intended to go to the Chantry."

"That was my intention." All her words were evenly spaced, and said in the same calm tone. "But the templars found me and I was given a choice."

"A choice?"

"To be executed for my crimes, or to volunteer for Tranquility."

Oh. That explained it. She had been made Tranquil. What was it Solona had said? That Tranquility cut a mage off from the Fade, and robbed them of their dreams and emotions?

Maker.

"Elspeth," Irving urged, "you should go now, and see to the tasks I gave you."

"Of course, First Enchanter." With a soft swish of her robes, she was gone.

Rhianna swallowed, and turned to Irving. "Is she always like that?"

Irving seemed surprised by the question. "What do you mean?"

"She just seemed so . . . dazed."

"Oh." Irving chuckled. "No, she's fine. As she said, Elspeth is one of the Tranquil." He paused. "Or perhaps you are not aware of them?"

"Solona mentioned them, once, but I think this is first time I've met one."

"Ah, yes. Of course. I suppose it must seem . . . unusual, until you are accustomed to the way they speak."

"Well, yes. Is she always so . . . flat?"

"Yes, that is one effect of the Rite of Tranquility."

"And you allowed that to be done to her?"

"She was a blood mage. There was no way the Templars would have allowed her to keep her magic. Would you rather she were dead?"

Rhianna's brow furrowed. "No, of course not. It just seems . . ." She paused. "Solona told me that's why Jowan did what he did. Because he was afraid of being made Tranquil."

Irving nodded. "Yes, that wouldn't surprise me. And surely, you can see that this would have been a necessary step in Jowan's case. Considering he has turned to blood magic, and who knows what other crimes."

Necessary?

"Perhaps if he hadn't feared being made Tranquil, he never would have resorted to blood magic."

"That is an . . . idealistic viewpoint. Understandable, of course, from someone such as yourself. You've never been part of a Circle, and have little experience of mages. But I assure you, it is necessary, sometimes. Regrettable, perhaps, but necessary."

Rhianna made no further argument, but she was far from convinced.

‹›‹O›‹›

Their arrival back in Redcliffe was almost anti-climactic.

Everything was quiet in the castle. The demon had not shown herself at all while Rhianna and Alistair were gone. Perhaps she realized the castle was no longer populated solely by frightened, confused guards, and a woman desperate to save her son's life. The companions Rhianna left behind wouldn't hesitate to kill the demon, had she shown herself again.

It had only taken Irving and the other mages a few minutes to prepare for the ritual that would send Jowan into the Fade. At first, Irving had wanted one of the other mages to go, but Jowan argued that, if the demon proved too powerful to defeat, he should be the one to suffer the consequences, and Irving eventually agreed. The spell was cast, and Jowan slumped to the floor, asleep. Everyone else stood in a circle around him, watching silently; it was impossible to know what was happening in the Fade.

Jowan awoke fifteen minutes later, his face pale and robes stained with sweat, and announced that the demon was gone.

And, indeed, it was. It was obvious just to look at the boy that something had changed. Connor stood straighter, as though no longer weighed down by her presence, and there was a light in his eyes that had been missing before.

Finally, the ordeal was over.

Now, everyone from both castle and village stood on the dock to send those who had died to a proper rest. More than a dozen boats floated in the bay, and there were many more bodies laid out on the dock, awaiting their turn.

At Rhianna's side, Teagan's eyes were hooded and dark, his mouth set in a thin, grim line.

She had the urge to reach across the few inches that separated them, and grasp Teagan's hand. To wrap her fingers around his, offer him comfort, and perhaps be comforted in return.

But something stopped her. At any point in the past, she could have reached for him and not worried the gesture would mean anything more than one friend wishing to comfort another. But now? After the kiss they had shared? She feared he would take it as a sign that she wanted something more.

Which she did. She wanted so much to reach for him. For him to pull her into his arms again, as he had in the windmill. To feel his lips on hers, to lose herself in him, even for just a few hours. And no doubt Teagan would be happy to give her all these things, if she just asked. If she just let her fingers grasp his across the small distance.

But she couldn't. She just couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to him - to either of them - to initiate something that was doomed not to last. She closed her eyes, and breathed deeply through the heat that rose up behind them. She wanted more than anything to not feel so profoundly alone, but the cost was just too high. If she allowed this to happen, it would cause heartache for both of them.

So, she stood at Teagan's side but maintained the space between them.

When she opened her eyes, another boat had been pushed out into the lake, another pyre set ablaze.

So much death.

Perhaps the thing that terrified Rhianna the most was that this carnage was unrelated to the darkspawn. Redcliffe sat far to the south; no doubt the darkspawn would make their way here sooner, rather than later. It was possible the people of this village would suffer still more losses, especially since most of the soldiers who might have defended the town had died during the past few weeks.

There was really only one solution: Rhianna had to find a way to stop the Blight. Quickly.

Was such a thing even possible? She was somewhat fuzzy on the history, but she seemed to recall all the previous blights having lasted years, at least. And the First Blight had gone on for nearly a hundred years even after the Grey Wardens had been founded.

The breath caught in her throat.

A hundred years? Blessed Andraste, Ferelden wouldn't be able to survive even a few years of a Blight, not against a horde the size of the one that had taken the field at Ostagar. And it was Rhianna's duty, and Alistair and Daveth's, to stop it. But how? None of them had any idea what to do to truly end this.

That didn't matter. Rhianna would stop the Blight. She had to stop it. What had the Divine said? You must be strong, for without you, the darkness will prevail.

Rhianna trembled under the weight of this thought. It couldn't be true. Honestly, what reason was there to think it was true? The Divine was said to receive prophecies directly from the Maker, but the Maker didn't care about anything. Possibly, the Maker didn't even exist.

Still, if it wasn't true, why had the Divine said it? And why, less than a year later, did Rhianna find herself living this life she could have never expected? Rhianna had always been told that she would grow up to do something important, but that was supposed to have meant marrying well and helping her husband administer whatever corner of Ferelden he held, or taking care of Highever after her father's death. This was an entirely different destiny, but perhaps it was truly hers. Certainly, she couldn't turn her back on it, no matter how dreadful it appeared when she tried to glimpse the future, no more than she could have turned her back on the people of Redcliffe.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as she watched far too many of those people be ushered on their last journey, to the side of the Maker.

‹›‹O›‹›

After the ceremony, Isolde and Teagan, along with Rhianna and her companions, returned to the castle and gathered in the bedchamber where Eamon lie unconscious. They were joined by Irving and one of his templars, and also by Jowan, who had been brought up from his cell in the dungeon. Irving had agreed to have a look at Eamon, to see if he had any ideas about how the man could be healed.

Asleep, Eamon looked far older than Rhianna remembered him. The lines in his face were etched more deeply; his beard was more thoroughly grey. He didn't appear to be ill, however; he looked as though he were merely asleep. One of his hands twitched slightly, as if responding to something in a dream.

"Whatever the demon did to my brother," Teagan said, "it seems to have spared his life. But he remains comatose. We have not been able to wake him."

"More of Loghain's handiwork." Wynne caught Rhianna's eye.

"What?" Rhianna blinked. "What does Loghain have to do with anything?"

A hush fell over the room, and everyone turned to look at Rhianna. Her stomach fluttered uncomfortably.

"Oh," Daveth murmured. "That's right. You weren't here, so you haven't heard that part yet, have you?"

"Heard what?"

Wynne crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Loghain is the one who hired Jowan to poison Arl Eamon. Jowan admitted as much while you and Alistair were traveling to the Circle." She lifted her chin, as if daring Rhianna to say something to challenge her.

What? Loghain had poisoned Eamon? But why?

"I knew it," Alistair exclaimed. "I knew Loghain had to be involved."

"I'll admit," Teagan began, "this revelation came as a surprise to me, but now I am left to wonder. If Loghain is responsible for my brother's illness, perhaps he also intended for Cailan to die at Ostagar." His voice caught slightly on the last word. "It seems Loghain Mac Tir has a great deal to answer for."

Rhianna turned to Jowan. "I don't understand. Why on earth would Loghain ask you to kill Eamon?"

"Not kill him!" Jowan's eyes grew wide. "I wasn't hired to kill him. I was only supposed to make him sick enough that he wouldn't be able to travel for a couple of weeks. Something that could be reversed later."

Something to keep Eamon from traveling? To Denerim, no doubt. Loghain probably wanted to keep Eamon away from the Landsmeet long enough to put Anora on the throne. Still, hiring an apostate to poison someone seemed rather extreme. Was there some other reason Loghain wanted Eamon out of the way?

"How did Loghain know to send you here in the first place?" Rhianna turned to Isolde. "How did he know you were looking for a tutor? Did you tell Loghain that Connor is a mage?"

"No, I never spoke with the teyrn about it." Isolde hesitated. "I did write to the queen, and ask if she could help me find an apostate to teach Connor in secret how to control his magic. I was so desperate to find help for my son. She must have told her father." A muscle in her jaw clenched. "And to think, I was grateful at first that Queen Anora had done something to help us."

Alistair crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You really had no idea the man you hired to tutor Connor was an assassin?"

"None," she replied. "Jowan said he had come here by request of the queen. Why would I suspect that the mage she sent would be a murderer?"

"I'm not a murderer!" Jowan's voice was high-pitched and strained.

Alistair ignored Jowan's comment, and spoke to Isolde again. "And what did Arl Eamon think of all this? I have a hard time believing he'd agree to have an apostate come live in his home and tutor his son."

"Eamon didn't know." Isolde looked down at the floor, her hands clutched in front of her.

"What do you mean he didn't know?" Alistair took a step forward. "How could you keep something like this from him?"

"How could I keep this from him?" Isolde met Alistair's gaze and lifted her chin. "Because he didn't want to know. Eamon left the raising of Connor to me. If he'd paid more attention, he would have seen the signs, just as I did. But Eamon was too busy to notice. So I did what I thought was best. When I discovered Connor's magic, I was frightened. Not just by the magic, but by the thought of what Eamon might do if he found out."

Alistair's lip curled. "If I were you, I'd be worried about what Eamon is going to do when he wakes up. He's going to be very angry, don't you think?"

"I hardly need you to tell me that," Isolde snapped back. "But I have other things to worry about at the moment. Like the fact that my son is going to be taken from me. Taken away to the Circle." The arlessa's eyes grew bright, and she blinked quickly.

"The Circle is the best place for him," Irving said, not ungently. "There he will receive genuine training, in a place where he will pose no danger to himself or others."

"I . . . I see that now," Isolde replied, although her tone suggested that she didn't really believe it. "Do you intend to take him with you when you return to Kinloch Hold?"

Surprisingly, Irving shook his head. "No, not yet. The Circle . . . well, given the recent tear in the Veil, I'm afraid the Circle is not yet stable enough to bring in a new apprentice. Especially this one. As it is, we've sent the other children to the circle in Jainen until Kinloch Hold has been made safe again. So, I think it will be better for your son to remain here for the time being, under the supervision of a templar."

"The important thing," Wynne said, "is that the boy seems to be back to himself now. When I spoke with him earlier, he claims not to remember anything of this ordeal, which is a blessing. And now, we must focus on restoring the arl back to health."

"Yes," Irving agreed. He turned to Wynne. "What have you tried thus far?"

"All of the healing spells I have at my command. Regular healing had no effect, so I attempted Revival and Cleansing. I even cast a Lifeward, but none of it had any effect. We also administered the antidote to the poison Jowan used, but to no avail."

Antidote? Then Loghain really hadn't intended for Eamon to die. Somehow, that was a comforting thought.

"It should have worked," Jowan said. "I know I created it properly." He shrugged. "I'm guessing that something the demon did affected the arl in a way that made the antidote not work. Or maybe he's no longer poisoned at all, but just in some sort of a dream state trapped in the Fade."

"If he is trapped in the Fade, could you not go in to rescue him?" Leliana asked. "The same way you went into destroy Connor's demon?"

"I actually tried that," Jowan replied. "I saw Eamon while I was in the Fade, but he wouldn't listen to anything I had to say. He sounded . . . confused. But I did try. I don't know, maybe someone else could have better luck than I did."

"I doubt it would help," Irving said thoughtfully. "He is probably not trapped in the Fade - certainly, he's no longer trapped in that particular demon's vision, now that she's dead. He is merely there because his body is sleeping. And regardless, we don't have the supplies to send you - or another mage - back into the Fade." He leaned closer to Eamon, and took one of the man's hands in his own. " This sleep is clearly unnatural, but like nothing I have seen before."

Irving muttered soft words, and a bluish glow swirled into life around his hands. He turned his palms to face the arl's body, and pushed the healing magic downward, but the tendrils of mist merely slid down the arl's sides and pooled on the bed, before dissolving away into nothing.

"The magic refuses to penetrate his body," Irving mused aloud. "This would indicate there is nothing physically wrong with him - no injury that needs to be healed. I would say the antidote very likely did work, in removing the poison from his system. Unfortunately, whatever the demon did is not something mere healing can counteract."

"Surely," Isolde begged, "there is something you can do?"

"I think the best thing for me to do is return to the Circle Tower at once," Irving replied. "I will search the library there, to see if I can find anything that may work as a cure, and there are a few other healers I can write to, see if they have heard of anything of this nature. But for now, there is nothing I can think of to do here that has not already been done."

"We are leaving, then?" This, from the templar, who had stood silently by the door throughout the whole conversation.

"Yes," Irving replied. "As soon as the boat can be made ready."

The templar crossed to Jowan, and took the mage roughly by the arm. "You'll be coming with us."

"What? No!" Jowan's voice was laced with panic. "I . . . please, no."

"Jowan, you had to know it would come to this," Irving said mildly. "Did you think you would be allowed to go free?"

"No." His shoulders slumped. "But I didn't think . . ." His voice trailed off miserably.

"What will happen to him?" Leliana's voice was strained.

"He will be given the Rite of Tranquility," Irving said.

"No!" Jowan's panic turned to terror. "Please, no."

Irving arched a brow. "The only other option," he turned to Isolde, "is if you would prefer to have him executed here for his crimes?"

Jowan whimpered, although it was difficult to tell which of the two he found more terrifying.

"I . . . no." Isolde shook her head. "That would not be for me to say. Eamon is the one who has been wronged; it would be for him to pass judgment. Jowan can remain locked up in the dungeon until Eamon is cured, but if you are willing to take this out of my hands, so be it."

"Very well."

"Please," Jowan begged, "at least allow me to attempt my Harrowing. I can do it! You know I can. I defeated Connor's demon in the Fade. I'm stronger than you think!"

"Be that as it may," Irving replied, "you have used blood magic. There is no turning back from that, as well you know. You've proven yourself untrustworthy. There's no way I can in good conscience agree to allow you to be Harrowed. Be grateful I am willing to consider Tranquility; I have no doubt Greagoir will take me to task for it upon our return, and insist on your execution. I will try to argue against it, and give you the opportunity to do some good, to make up for all the damage you have done."

Jowan cringed, and tried to pull away from the templar, but the man held tight on the mage's arm.

"Wait." Rhianna stepped forward and the word slipped from between her lips before she'd made a conscious decision to speak.

Everyone turned to look at her.

"Let go of his arm," she continued. "He's not coming with you."

"I"m sorry, what?" Irving frowned.

"Jowan won't be returned to the Circle. I would like to recruit him for the Grey Wardens."

"The Grey Wardens?" Irving arched a brow.

"What?" Alistair said simultaneously, an expression of confusion on his face. "You want to recruit him? But he's a blood mage?"

"Yes, and there are three Wardens right now in the whole of Ferelden. We need all the help we can get." She turned to Jowan. "Assuming you would be willing?"

"Me? A Grey Warden?" He glanced at the templar. "Where do I sign up?"

"Not so fast." Wynne stepped forward. "The first enchanter has sentenced this man to the Rite of Tranquility, which is, frankly, more than Jowan deserves. You can't just recruit whoever you like."

"Actually, I can."

She wasn't even sure why she was arguing about this. Why did she care? Jowan didn't seem all that promising, to be honest. Was it that he'd been Solona's friend?

No. It was the slack expression on Elspeth's face, an expression that had haunted Rhianna since her most recent visit to the tower. How the life was missing from her voice, and her eyes. Gone was the woman who had passionately argued for freedom, and in her her place was something that seemed hardly a person anymore. Rhianna's stomach churned at the thought of that same lifeless expression on Jowan's face.

Besides, she wanted very much to have the chance to speak with him in private, and learn why Loghain had sent him here to poison Eamon.

"The Grey Wardens have the Right of Conscription," Rhianna continued. "I have the right to conscript anyone, just as Duncan conscripted me." She looked at Alistair. "Just as Duncan conscripted you, over the objections of the Grand Cleric." She glanced around the room. "Do you really mean to tell me that anyone in this room has more authority over the Grey Wardens than the Grand Cleric of Ferelden? If she couldn't stop your conscription, Alistair, I don't see how anyone can stop me conscripting Jowan."

"You would do this?" Teagan frowned. "You would spare the life of the man responsible for my brother's illness?"

This stung, but before Rhianna could reply, Leliana stepped forward. "She's right. The Wardens do have the Right of Conscription. And I would like to think that Jowan deserves a second chance. He was only doing what he was hired to do, by a man he had no reason not to trust."

"But he's a blood mage," Wynne insisted. "You risk unleashing yet another abomination on this world if he is not kept under close supervision."

"He'll be under supervision." Rhianna turned to Alistair. "You trained to be a templar. You can do all the things templars do to control mages, can't you? I could swear I saw you knock out a whole room full of mages when we were at the Circle."

"I . . . um, well, yes." Alistair's cheeks turned pink. "I do know templar skills . . ."

"Then that's settled." Rhianna turned her gaze to Irving. "Surely, this makes things easier for you, as well."

The first enchanter shrugged. "I doubt you'll get much use out of him. He has never been a powerful mage. But I will not try and keep you from recruiting him, if you think he can be of some help against the Blight."

Wynne made an unhappy noise, but didn't argue further.

"Thank you!" Jowan crossed the room to stand beside Rhianna, as though he expected the templar to try and drag him away. Rhianna glanced at Teagan; his brow was creased, and his eyes looked unhappy. Disappointed.

"With that settled," Irving said, "I think it's time for the rest of us to return to the Circle." To Isolde, "Ser Hugh will remain here in Redcliffe, to watch over your son until such time as the Circle is prepared to accept him for training."

Isolde nodded. "Thank you. Thank you so much for coming all this way, and helping to save my son's life."

Irving's expression softened. "You are more than welcome, my lady."

With that, Irving and his templar escort left the room, and for the space of a few breaths, no one spoke.

Finally, Teagan turned to Rhianna. "We need to talk about what to do next."

"Do next? What do you mean? The threat to the village has ended, Connor and Isolde are safe. My companions and I need to move on, to Orzammar to speak with the dwarves as I had originally planned."

"But what about Eamon?" Teagan's brow was deeply creased. "We're going to need him if we're to get Ferelden through this Blight. And after all you were able to do here, I have no doubt you could do something to restore him to health."

Eamon? Teagan wanted her to figure out how to heal Eamon?

"I . . . appreciate your faith in me, but I'm not sure what more there is we can do. Our healer was not able to help him. The First Enchanter was not able to help him. What more am I supposed to do?

"The Urn." Isolde turned to look at her husband lying still on the bed. "The Urn of Sacred Ashes is our best hope for saving Eamon."

"There has been a great deal of talk about this urn," Morrigan began, "but very little said about just what it truly is, and why anyone believes it might actually help this man heal. I know it is said to be the earthly remains of your prophet, but beyond that?" She shrugged, with an unspoken question.

"My husband funded the research of a scholar in Denerim, a Brother Genitivi," Isolde explained. "He has been studying the inscription on Andraste's birth rock, and he believes the ashes are here in Ferelden, and is trying to find them."

That sounded familiar . . . yes, Genitivi was the name of the man who had come to the Landsmeet last year, asking for funding to continue his project.

"When Eamon fell ill," Isolde continued, "I sent the knights to Genitivi. I hoped that he had finally discovered the location of the Urn itself, and could go and collect enough of the ashes to heal my husband. But the knights were unable to locate him. In desperation, I sent more knights in search of the brother or some clue of the Urn's location." She turned to Rhianna. "You could find the Urn. I truly believe it is the only thing that will bring my husband out of this sickness."

"You want us to find the Urn of Sacred Ashes?" Rhianna shook her head. "But you've already sent knights out across Ferelden in search of it. I'm a Grey Warden. My duty is to defeat the darkspawn, and find a way to end this Blight. I need to travel to Orzammar, as well as locate the Dalish clans in the Brecilian Forest. I'm sorry, but I can't agree to go off on a search for a holy relic. Not with darkspawn massing in the south."

"But my knights have not been able to find it."

"Perhaps they have not found it," Morrigan said, "because it does not exist. It seems to me you are asking us to waste our time on a wild goose chase. Even if these ashes do exist, there is no assurance that they have some sort of magical healing properties. I doubt such a thing is even possible. There is no magic of which I am aware that could imbue the remains of a dead woman with that sort of power."

"But the powers of the beloved Prophet go beyond all magic," Isolde insisted.

"Even if that is true," Rhianna said, "I'm not sure what we can do to help. I see no reason to think we would be able to find something that your knights could not."

"Won't you at least try?" Teagan crossed the room to stand before Rhianna. "You came here for Eamon's support, and I have no doubt that he will give you his wholehearted support once he is able. Surely, you wish to restore Eamon to health as much as I do."

That wasn't true, but Rhianna could hardly say that to the man's brother.

"If you are so adamant that this urn is the only thing that will cure your brother," Morrigan said, "why don't you go out and seek it yourself?"

Teagan turned to her, a crease across his forehead. "With my brother ill, it falls to me to organize Eamon's knights as they return, draft new soldiers, and prepare the army to fight. Redcliffe must be able to defend itself against the darkspawn. Even if I wished to seek the Urn myself, I cannot abandon Redcliffe to its own devices." He turned back to Rhianna. "That is why I am asking . . . why I am begging for you to do this. You have proven quite . . . formidable."

"I . . . " It was difficult to say no to Teagan. Part of her wanted to say yes, because it was what he wanted to hear, and because she cared for him, and hated the thought of disappointing him. But her duty truly did lie elsewhere.

And the longer Eamon remained asleep, the better her chances of staying out of a nasty political mess. Her life, and especially Alistair's, would be much, much simpler if Eamon didn't awaken until after Anora had taken the throne.

"I'm sorry, but I have the darkspawn to contend with. I think the best thing is to wait to hear from Irving, to see if his research yields any answers."

"Rhianna, please." Teagan grasped her shoulders. "You will need Eamon if you hope to defeat the darkspawn. He is respected and powerful here in the south. No one else will be able to bring all of Ferelden together under one banner and fight both Loghain and the Blight."

Oh Maker. Now Teagan was convinced that Loghain was a threat as well? Fair enough, if he had truly sent a mage to poison Eamon. Still, this hardly made things any easier.

Teagan held her gaze. "And if that's not enough, remember this is my brother's life we're talking about."

"Don't talk to me about brothers, Teagan," she said evenly. "My own brother is in the Korcari Wilds, and if I had time to spend on searching, don't you think I'd be looking for him? I'm not, because I have another duty to fulfill first. I don't have the luxury of being able to do what I want. And at least you know your brother is here, and safe from harm. I don't even know if Fergus still lives. My companions and I cannot go off after some holy relic that may or may not even exist. Convincing the dwarves and the Dalish to honor these treaties has to be my highest priority."

"I see." Teagan released his hold on her, and took a step back. "You have made that abundantly clear, my lady." He paused. "If your business leads you elsewhere, then so be it." His eyes searched her face, and his expression tightened. Then he turned on his heel and strode from the room.

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There were several hours of daylight left, and Rhianna decided they would make use of them for traveling. She had intended to spend the night here at the castle, in the comfort of a real bed, but now all she wanted was to be away from Redcliffe as soon as possible. Teagan was angry with her, and Alistair and Wynne kept glaring, no doubt about Jowan, and she just needed to be on the move again, working toward something tangible. The dwarves in Orzammar. Speaking to them was a goal she could accomplish in some reasonable amount of time.

Rhianna left the main hall of the castle, and sat on the steps in the courtyard while she waited for the others to gather their things.

As she sat and looked out at the bridge that lay beyond the castle gates, anger bubbled up inside of her. She was doing her best, but there was no way she could please everyone. Did she sacrifice all of Ferelden to the Blight, in an attempt to save one man's life? Should she have let Jowan be stripped of his humanity, to please Alistair and Wynne? No matter what she did, someone was angry with her, arguing with her, eager to speak out against her.

A noise came from behind. Rhianna turned to see that Lady Isolde had followed her out of the castle.

"May I join you?"

"Of course," Rhianna agreed.

Isolde settled herself gingerly on one of the steps, as though unaccustomed to sitting in anything other than a chair. She turned to Rhianna, and took in a breath. "I owe you my deepest thanks. I had nearly . . . I can scarcely believe Connor is the boy he once was." Isolde reached out and took one of Rhianna's hands. "You saved my son's life . . . as well as my own. I will always be thankful to you for that."

All of Rhianna's anger melted away at the gratitude that shone in the older woman's eyes.

"You're more than welcome. I'm just glad we were able to help. And I am sorry I can't promise to seek the Urn, as you have asked. But I can't just ignore the darkspawn in favor of going off on this quest. I do promise to keep my eyes and ears open on our travels, though, and when we return to Denerim, I will seek out Brother Genitivi. I met him last year, briefly."

"I understand," Isolde replied. "And please do not feel troubled. You have already done so much, and I truly appreciate all of it. If you can find Genitivi and the Urn, that would be wonderful, but I understand you have a duty that comes first. I do have one more favor to ask of you, however. Just a small favor, if you don't mind." Isolde reached into her pocket and withdrew an amulet on a silver chain. "This belongs to Alistair, but somehow, I doubt he would accept it from me."

Isolde put the amulet in Rhianna's hand. It was a holy symbol made of porcelain, and the surface was covered with cracks, as though it had shattered and been repaired.

Maker. This must be his mother's amulet. He'd told her that he'd thrown it across the room when he learned he was being sent to the Chantry. Could this really be it? It had to be.

"He left it here when he was taken to the Chantry," Isolde said. "Well, he didn't really leave it. He tried to destroy it in a fit of anger. But he was so young, and it was the only thing he had of his mother's. So, when Eamon asked the servants to sweep up the pieces, I stopped them from throwing it all away. I repaired it as best as I could, and I've had it all this time. If you would please return it to him, I would be grateful."

"Of course. I'm sure he'll be very happy to have it. Thank you."

"No, thank you. For all you have done. I wish you well on your travels."

‹›‹O›‹›

When Rhianna and her companions were halfway across the bridge that connected Redcliffe Castle to the rest of the village, a man's voice called out.

"Rhianna!"

She turned, to see Teagan hurrying toward her. She stopped, and waited for him to catch up.

"I . . ." He panted for breath. "I . . . didn't expect you to leave so quickly." He stepped close, and put his hands on her shoulders. "Rhianna, I fear I owe you yet another apology. I'm sorry. For how I behaved back there. Sorry, if I seemed angry." He paused. "Well, of course I am angry. Angry about so many things, mostly at Loghain. But I'm not angry with you, I swear it. It wasn't right of me to take my anger out on you, and it certainly wasn't right for me to try and make further demands, when you've already done so much. I know you have a duty elsewhere, one you didn't take on lightly. It was selfish of me, and wrong, to put my brother's well-being ahead of the rest of Ferelden. So, I'm sorry."

"You . . . you don't owe me any apology. I know this has been difficult for you. Difficult for all of us. Sometimes it feels as though everything's gone . . . mad. In such a short time."

"Yes, it does feel that way. But I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful. Without you we might all be dead now, and even though I am still worried for my brother, I am thankful that Isolde and Connor are safe. So thank you, for all you've done."

"You're welcome. And I won't forget about Eamon. If I hear anything about the ashes, I will look into it."

"I know you will." He reached up a cradled her face in his palm. "You are really a marvel."

He swayed forward, slightly, as though he intended to kiss her again.

No. That was not what she wanted. Not now, not like this. She didn't want to be kissed on her way out of town, not knowing when she would return. She didn't want to ignite feelings inside of her that would burn unhappily when she was forced to walk away. And she didn't want to give this man hope that there could someday be something between them, when that was almost certainly not true.

Quickly, she leaned forward, and pressed her lips to Teagan's cheek. Then, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close for just a moment. He returned the embrace, and when they released one another, he gave her a crooked smile, as though he understood. He ran his thumb down her cheek and along the line of her jaw.

"Be safe, my lady. Walk with the Maker. And I hope very much that you and I shall see one another again someday soon. Under . . . different circumstances."

Rhianna reached up and placed her hand over his, pressing his palm against her face. "We'll see one another again. And perhaps then, things will be different."

But would things be different? Would time make any difference at all? She would always be a Grey Warden, and he would always be the Bann of Rainesfere, and no matter how much she wanted to kiss him, none of the things that stood between them now were going to change.

She dropped her hand, and smiled through the wave of sadness that washed over her.

"Goodbye, Teagan," she murmured.

Then she turned, and led her band of companions across the bridge and away from Redcliffe, north toward Orzammar.

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As always, a big thank you to my beta readers, Psyche Sinclair, Amanda Kitswell, Kevin and Sehnsuchttraum, and also to all my lovely reviewers: Skidney, Milly-finalfantasy, Tyrannosaurustex, and Arsinoe de Blassenville.

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