A/N: Apologies for the soap-opera folks. Aunt Mildred is official appalled, but it's really not that bad…Onward with the talkfest…
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Chapter 37 – Faith in Friends
Staring into the earnest, hopeful face, Alyce's resolve crumbled. "Oh…Fine…" she sighed.
Fire erupted around Alyce's hand. She made the flame dance around her fingers, leaping from fingertip to fingertip until with a deft flick of her wrist, she formed it into a perfect sphere, throwing it at the unlit wall lamp. It hit the lamp with barely a scorch mark on the surrounding wall, the wick spluttering to life. Grinning at Dagna, Alyce held up her other hand, glowing white-blue, cold mist roiling off her skin in chilly waves; ice forming frosty, intricate patterns around each nail. Smile widening, Alyce dispelled the ice spell, electricity crackling between her hands. She tossed lightning from palm to palm like a confectioner pulling toffee; kneading the spears to her will…She tossed the lightning up into the air; bolts hitting the surface of the table, they drew a line down the middle, dispersing with a loud fizz.
Dagna applauded. Laughing, Alyce sketched a bow then sat down with a satisfied sigh.
"That was wonderful! But…it still doesn't explain how you do it…" the dwarf complained.
Alyce leant forward. Propping her elbows on the table between them, she rested her chin on the backs of her hands. "No explanation, Dagna. I just…do. All Mages just…do. We are born with the talent and somewhere along the line it just gets switched on somehow. For some it comes early, others later. The earliest manifestation of magic I've heard is around age three and that's pretty extreme. The latest that I know personally was twelve or thirteen…Rarely, it happens in adulthood, though I haven't met anyone like that."
"But…how?" Dagna persisted, legs swinging restlessly.
Alyce shrugged. "Triggers can be anything from a simple sneeze, through to major emotional trauma. It varies from Mage to Mage."
"And you…?" Dagna asked.
Alyce sat back, staring at the opposite wall. To be quite honest, she couldn't remember. Life in Highever had always been peaceful…she…imagined; having a small child's memory of her life before the Tower; golden-tinted days spent…well doing a lot of running, for some reason…and…She frowned. She remembered the old tree – Ser Ryan had told her it was a chestnut – and trying to climb it. A family of owls nested in it every year…She remembered that too. Anything else seemed foggy; vague memories of mere feelings. I was happy…that's all…She felt Dagna touch her hand. Alyce startled back to the present, grimacing with lopsided embarrassment.
"I'm trying to remember and failing…" she admitted. "For all I know, my magic began because of a bad pickle I ate," she shrugged. Dagna giggled as Alyce continued, tapping her chin thoughtfully with her index finger. "I would have been…let's see, about six or so when I was brought to the Tower."
"So you remember coming to the Tower?" Dagna asked, eyes alight with curiosity.
"I remember when the Templars came to retrieve me, but…huh, odd…"
"What's odd?"
"I don't remember the trip from Highever, but I do remember the boat ride from Lake Calenhad…"
"With Kester? Was he around then as well?" Dagna chuckled. "When I asked him whether he would take me across the lake, he asked me whether I'd gone mad."
"And what did you tell him?" Alyce asked, eyeing her apprentice cautiously because those big blue eyes were twinkling far too mischievously.
"I told him yes…" Dagna said, leaning forward conspiratorially. "That I'd been ejected from my caste because I'd gone berserk and ridden a giant nug through the Diamond Quarter, chasing darkspawn into the palace…and my family had sent me here to find some kind of cure for my lunacy…"
"Hm," Alyce nodded agreeably. "That's a credible explanation."
"He just looked at me and then patted my head. Then gave me some kind of sugary nugget he called a 'sweet'."
"Is he still handing those out?" Alyce enquired, impressed. "Golly…" Pondering the ceiling, she mused, "I wonder if he buys them by the barrelful…He seems to always have enough for every apprentice that rides his boat." She gave a short laugh, Kester, Kester, Kester…If not for the old boatman and his boiled sweets, apprentices would arrive far, far more nervous and scared than if they were paddled across Lake Calenhad surrounded by a wall of grim-faced Templars; unless they wore their helms…and then they would be grim-helmed Templars…
"Anyway…" Alyce rested her palm in her hand again, regarding her tiny charge, "you know a little about me. What about you? I mean really, apart from the whole nug-riding, darkspawn chasing thing."
The light appeared to dim slightly in Dagna's eyes; her laughter turning nervous. "I'm…I'm casteless, actually."
Alyce placed her hand over Dagna's, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "If you don't want to talk about it, it's alright…"
"It's fine. Um…It was kind of my decision," Dagna removed her hand from under Alyce's, returning a grateful pat of her own. "I wasn't really cut out to be a smith," she told Alyce. "Fifteen generations of dwarven smiths and I'm the first one to be interested in magic…Mother thought it was just a phase, something I'd grow out of eventually…"
"But you didn't…" Alyce grimaced. Finding out Dagna's real age had been quite a shock. It didn't seem right that such a small, dainty person could be a scant three years younger than herself. Well, that is unless you looked, really looked at Dagna and saw the old person peeking out from behind those bright blue orbs of hers.
"No," Dagna said simply. "I didn't quite manage that. I used to have these huge shouting matches with father." Another nervous laugh. "I hated working at the forge. I wasn't bad at it exactly – I got by - but it…how to fold lyrium into different kinds of metal; using the right catalyst, making sure component ratios were perfect; temperatures were perfect. It was all so…uninteresting. How the lyrium worked…now, that was interesting. And then…one day father got tired of arguing with me and arranged marriage to some…boy from another smith caste."
Alyce's eyes grew round as she listened. "You're…you're married?" she asked in a shocked voice.
Dagna pouted. "He was good looking enough, I suppose. Nice arse…and he could go all night like a…"
"Awwwwl…right…!" Alyce stood up suddenly, cheeks aflame. "Well, and that concludes our session for today..." She directed her gaze towards the door, as if expecting to find some kind of distraction in the grain of the wood. "Pudding!" she exclaimed. "Why don't we go downstairs to the refectory and have some lovely spotted di…di…You know, perhaps a walk about the herb garden might be beneficial at this time of the day…Let's go!"
"Alyce…" Dagna folded her arms, sitting back and regarding the tall Mage with a raised eyebrow. "It was snowing outside, the last time I looked and anyway; why are you so nervous? Ooh…!" she exclaimed suddenly, eyes widening, "have you never…you know…"
"Do I? Know what? Oh, I know! I know lots of things!" Alyce announced. "The sky is blue – very important that. Blue – huh – blue…Like blue paint and…um…stop looking at me like that."
"Alyce…"
"Look…it's…"
"You've never been with anyone before?" Dagna asked; those eyes too sharp for Alyce's liking.
"I…have…" Alyce said defensively, refusing to meet those razor eyes. "Lots of times."
"Hm…Have you even kissed anyone?"
"Of course I have!" Alyce said, outraged. "Lots of times."
"Hm."
"Hundreds, thousands…!"
"Hm…?"
Alyce sighed. Still refusing to meet Dagna's gaze, she held up two fingers. Dagna made a sing-song voice of acceptance of this offered bit of visual information. "That's not too bad. Did you stick your…"
"I never…!" Alyce said hastily, causing Dagna to exlode into guffaws of mirth. "That's not funny, Dagna! I'll have you know I…I…" She threw up her hands in defeat. Hurling herself into her chair, she slunk down, hooking her knees up from under the table and plonking her booted feet heavily onto the table. She crossed them at the ankles and turned her shoulder on the dwarf while she continued to be laughed at. To her credit, Dagna did try to bring herself under control, but every time she rested her gaze upon Alyce's scowling, hunched form, she would burst into another fit of giggles.
Eventually, Alyce glared at her apprentice over her shoulder. "I suppose you have…?"
"Of course…lots of times…" Dagna told her, snickering. She smacked the table with the palms of her hands. "I was a late starter," she admitted. "I was fifteen when…golly, I can't even remember his name! Can't have been very good…"
"Thank you," Alyce said sourly. "So…betrothed…not quite married…If you tell me you have a brood of children back home in Orzammar, I'm going to stuff you into an envelope and post you express back underground…"
"Oh come on Alyce," Dagna managed in a more serious tone of voice. "You can't tell me you never had a crush – serious or not – on anyone…male, female…four-legged…"
"Ha, ha…." Alyce sunk lower in her chair, contemplating the surface of the table over crossed arms. A crush…? She thought of Niall; with his gentle smile and his biting wit. She'd realised only belatedly, after he'd gone that she'd perhaps thought of him as something more than a mere friend and a knowledgeable mentor. She had admired him for his Isolationist views. They were so like her own…to hide away somewhere where people didn't point and whisper in frightened voices…Mage…as though they were some kind of disease. But…even after such a relatively short time, she could not remember the exact colour of his eyes, or even the timbre of his voice. She could remember things he had said to her; lessons about magic and so forth; pleasant conversations about world events or a particular branch of magic, history, an unusual dinner Cook had served up, but they were now just words in her head no longer in his voice, loosely associated with him...On the other hand…
"His name is…" Alyce began, but stopped. "Well it doesn't really matter what his name is, I guess, but yes…I…admire someone greatly."
"Admire?" Dagna enquired, oh-so-casually.
Alyce tossed off a crooked smile. "It's a bit one-sided," she informed Dagna. "He has no interest in me, so it doesn't matter."
"You'd be wrong about that," Dagna told her. "Did you ever try to make him like you?"
Alyce choked. "You're kidding me? People can't force other people to feel…stuff. It's just…" She sighed. "It's different when you're a Mage. If I tried…people would say it's just mind-domination; that I'd ensorcelled Ryan to…" Alyce stopped, noting the rapid rise of Dagna's eyebrows on her forehead. "What?" she asked.
"His name is Ryan?" Dagna sang, eyebrows wiggling.
"No, no, no…did I say that? No, I meant to say…'trying'…trying to…ensorcel…You're laughing at me again."
"I'm not!"
"You know, you're small enough to be sent back by carrier pigeon, I've just realised..."
"Alyce…!"
Alyce sighed. Fixing her gaze on the criss-cross pattern her boot laces made, she ended up scowling. "As I said, it doesn't matter," she said quietly. "He left. I'll never see him again, so…bit of a moot point…and you didn't really answer my question."
"You didn't answer mine."
"And thus we arrive at an impasse impossible to pass…" Alyce sunk her chin into her chest.
After a while, Dagna cleared her throat. "Not married," she admitted. "No children and…once a dwarf leaves their caste, they don't exist any more. We are dead as far as our families are concerned. I have no one…"
Alyce gave her apprentice a pitying look. Sitting up, she stretched out an arm, looping it around Dagna's shoulders for an impromptu hug and because she was so darned cute, knuckled the top of her head too. "He put up with me, befriended me and has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen on a man," Alyce whispered. "And…" she added, still in the same, soft voice, "The wonderful thing about being admitted into the Tower of Magi…You become part of our very large, very strange family, Dagna of Lake Calenhad…You are my sister now and this cold stone Tower your home…" She added with a grimace, "Spotted dick and all…"
Dagna returned her smile with one more like her usual, sunny self. "Sister…" she repeated slowly, seeming to turn the word around like some marvellous new discovery. "I think I like the sound of that..." The sparkle back in her eyes, she asked, "Does that mean we get to swap clothes and steal each other's boyfriends?"
Alyce stared at the tiny dwarf grinning up at her, trying to imagine her in Mage robes and…failing miserably. It would not be a good look.
"Let's just…maybe stick with stealing each other's boyfriends for the moment…" she told her. "Alright?"
Dagna agreed with a sly smile, reaching forward to shuffle through the collection of apprentice primers on the table. "I hope you don't come to regret that statement," she told Alyce. "I rather like men with 'beautiful' eyes…"
There was a brief jingle of metal outside. Three Templars filed into the room, taking up position on either side of the door; the third coming to stand by the desk. The fourth entered…Knight Commander Greagoir. Both Mage and dwarf looked up, Alyce enquiringly; Dagna bewilderingly.
"This is an honour…" Alyce began.
"Perhaps," the Knight Commander growled. "You are to accompany me."
Alyce rose. She pointed to Dagna. Greagoir ignored her, staring at a point behind Alyce's shoulder. With a shrug, she walked to the door, Dagna in tow, the Templars closing in around her.
Guh…Alyce rolled her eyes at the Templars. What is this…? Another bloody Harrowing…? Well, nothing for it but to follow them…and find out.
-oo-
Soft light streaming through the window slit woke Ser Ryan. It took him several minutes to remember where he was, never having actually slept here before. The place he'd awoken in was technically, his quarters, but Cousland had been very understanding about the responsibilities he'd had to his family and allowed him to return to his own home at the end of each day. As long as he reported on time every morning…though by the angle and brightness of the sun, Ser Ryan realised it must be later in the day than he'd like, sitting up abruptly and wincing at muscles stiffened overnight in the cold, unheated room.
He had made it as far as Turner's Well, before his common sense had reasserted itself. He had considered returning home, but as he had been more than half-way to Cousland Castle, it made little sense to try and return home. Panic had given him flight, but once burned out, he'd been left with nothing more than simmering worry and a slight headache. Resting his head in his hands, he kneaded his temples, but the tension from the night before refused to leave.
He had been foolish…jumping to conclusions on one letter from Ser Hanleigh…
He hadn't even expected Bran and Hanleigh to keep a weather eye out for Amell. It said something about the two men he'd come to know as well as himself. He'd been tired, overwrought and not thinking particularly straight, but…Maker's breath…what had induced Hanleigh to mention such a thing? He had to admit that if there had been the smallest whispering of Alyce being turned Tranquil, there had to be some origin; some truth in the claim. He hadn't known how to go about this, but attempting to seek Cousland's assistance had been a nonsensical notion…as if the young lord could somehow prevent it, if it were true. He'd even entertained – very briefly – aiding Lord Aidan in stealing Alyce from the Tower and assisting him to set her up in whatever horrible, vulgar arrangement the young noble had in mind.
He laughed at himself. He had acted more like a youth in the heated throes of a first love; instead of an experienced man of five and thirty…and he knew how the first time had turned out…
"Huh…" A voice jolted him out of his bleary thoughts. "I was wondering when you'd wake up…"
Ryan rubbed at his eyes, focusing on the speaker. "My lord," he croaked, too weary to stand.
"I ordered you to return home," Aidan Cousland reminded him through narrowed eyes; though Ser Ryan suspected that expression might have more to do with there being too much light, rather than anything else. "And…" Cousland added, "you were supposed to have reported in for duty three hours ago…"
Ser Ryan frowned. "My apologies, my lord…"
"Save your apologies," Aidan growled. "Thanks to you, I've been treated to the biggest bollocking of my life from Fergus…not to mention mother…"
Ser Ryan looked up at the young lord, genuinely surprised. "Then I am truly…"
"Didn't I tell you not to bother?" Aidan interrupted him. "The topic of today's timely lecture regards my inability to manage the men under my command. Apparently," Aidan glared at him resentfully. "I've been working you too hard. In fact," he added with an unhappy sniff, "the phrase my affable sibling employed was 'undue burden'. I hadn't realised I had been cracking the whip, but if so…"
"Not at all, my lord," Ryan stood, the room reeling like a ship on a stormy sea.
"Really?" Aidan sniffed again, bloodshot eyes penetrating the fog about Ser Ryan's head. "Then tell me why you look like yesterday's garderobe scrapings…"
There was a pillar close by. Ser Ryan reached for it, almost missing it, but pulling himself over, resting his forehead against the cool wood. He heard Cousland sigh.
"Maker, my head is killing me…!" He indicated a jug and tumbler just out of reach. "I'd contemplated pouring you something to drink, Ryan, but I don't think I can manage it…Too much effort…"
Despite his aching…everything, Ser Ryan chuckled. "The honour should be mine, my lord."
"Oh…stow it, you respectable, honourable bastard. I tire of your 'lord this' and 'lord that'. I mean…" With great effort, he cast his hands into the air. "I'm about to steal one of your Mages and all you can tell me is that you think it 'inadvisable'? What kind of bloody opinion is that? Andraste's smoking tits, man, what did they teach you at the Chantry?"
"Respect for the Prophet Andraste for a start," Ser Ryan told him sternly.
"Uh-huh," Aidan snorted. "Look at this face. Is this a face that cares?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact."
"Well, you'd be wrong." Stretching out his legs, Aidan slumped in the chair, resting his arm along the edge of the table. "I don't give a brass nug pellet…"
Ser Ryan gave up trying to continue standing, allowing his legs to collapse beneath him. He had a most undignified urge to weep, the cloth of his shirt riding up his back as it caught on the carvings on the pillar. Elbows on his knees, he dropped his head into his hands. Then, in a most uncharacteristic show of emotion, he tore the binding holding his hair in its ponytail, hurling it across the room. At the table, one hand shielding his eyes from the too-bright sunlight, Aidan observed his lieutenant with growing alarm.
"I…take it, that wasn't for me…" Aidan grimaced. Continuing to watch Ser Ryan he added sagely. "I didn't think so…"
After a while, he asked more cautiously, "Is this about your…Everything all right at home?"
After a moment's pause, Ser Ryan looked up. "My family is well," he told the younger man. "It…I received a letter from the Tower of Magi."
Aidan sat up, suddenly alert. He hadn't liked Ser Ryan's tone of voice when he had said 'Tower of Magi'.
"Alyce…" Aidan murmured.
Ser Ryan merely nodded…and then described to him the contents of Ser Hanleigh's letter, or as much as he could remember of it…and then told him what being Tranquil actually meant. Before he could finish his speech, Aidan was on his feet, trembling in rage as well as nausea. Teeth gritted and his hands curling into angry fists, he took a step towards the door, swaying and clutching at his head. "Holy Maferath's balls…" he groaned. "Why couldn't Alyce have chosen a time to get into trouble when neither of us were so incapacitated…? Damn!" He swung at Ser Ryan's pillar and missed, sinking into the other chair at the table. "I'm dying…Andraste's burning knicker-elastic, I don't think I can make it to the kitchens, never mind Lake Calenhad…but I can have a detail ready to go in…And we could…" He frowned at Ser Ryan's amused expression. "What? You don't think I could take the Tower of Magi? I could…if I tried…really…hard." Of course, attempting to drag one of father's siege engines across Ferelden would look a tad suspicious…
"How resistant are you to magic?" Ser Ryan asked.
Aidan glared at him. "Toadiness?" he asked in a flat voice.
"Everything-ness," Ser Ryan clarified.
"Right…" Thinking…thinking…Aidan smacked the table, wincing at the noise. "Ow. Okay. Here's the plan. You told me Alyce's Fernery is in the Denerim Chantry…"
"Phylactery."
"Yeah, that. Here's what I propose: We go to Denerim. I seduce the Grand Cleric, steal the key to the Pernickety, take it back and then…you know, you're not taking this as seriously as you should."
"Phylactery, my lord."
"Oh there you go again with the 'my lord'. What is it with you and formality? Were you dipped into a vat of politeness when you were a child? Good grief, man…!"
"There is nothing we can do," Ser Ryan said, addressing his feet.
"I refuse to believe that!" Aidan exclaimed, leaping once more to his feet…and regretting it immediately. Seizing his pounding head, Aidan sunk to the floor beside his lieutenant. "You're going to give up, is that it?" He eyed the older man with sullen disapproval. What is wrong with him? "You don't care. I can't believe…"
"Of course I care!" Ryan snapped at him, causing Cousland to wince.
"Too loud…"
"I am sorry."
"Huh…" I seriously doubt it…Aidan viewed Ser Ryan sourly, even the tips of his ears hurting…"Then what the blazes do we do?"
"We…trust her."
"Yea…what?"
Resting back on the pillar, Ser Ryan repeated his statement. "I…We must trust Alyce."
"Excuse me?" Aidan stared at Ser Ryan in disbelief. If the ex-Templar had just sprouted a tree from his head, with monkeys hanging off it, he would not have been as surprised as he would have been by that statement.
"Enchanter Amell is a good Mage," Ser Ryan attempted to explain. "There has never been anything unusual about her training or her status as a Mage. If anything, she is…well, if not a perfect example, but a…" He sighed. "She would not have been allowed to undergo her Harrowing if there had been any suspicion surrounding any aspect of her ability to manage her talent," he added more calmly, as though by telling Cousland all this he could reassure himself. "Or her personality," he added. "She was the youngest Mage to be selected for the group that went to Ostagar. Less than a week after her Harrowing, she accompanied a delegation to represent the Tower to attend an important event in Redcliffe…" Some Grey Warden thing, he remembered. Ser Bran had gone, not him that time.
"I also know for a fact," Ser Ryan continued with a grim smile, "that the Knight Commander took some kind of interest in Alyce's family. He doesn't do that…for anyone. Not Mages…" He paused to breathe. There had also been that very important mission in Denerim before the two of them had ended up in Highever, but Ser Ryan wasn't about to mention that. "So we must…trust in Alyce. Trust in the good standing she has built for herself; trust in her…"
Trust huh…? Aidan Cousland stared at Ser Ryan, his mouth screwed up in thought.
"Well…" he said eventually. "That was a dumb statement, if I've ever heard one. As for me? I think you've gone completely barking…"
Ser Ryan sneezed in reply.
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