Solas paced the length of the library as Vivienne read through the letter.
"Ah," she said, "This is interesting."
"The ruins?" he asked, pausing in his step.
"No," she replied, "But it seems Dorian's as forthright as he appears. I know more than a few dowagers who would simply die to read this."
"Focus, Vivienne!"
"I am," she rebuked, "I'm simply indulging myself for a moment. One seldom finds opportunities as good as this. Don't you want to hear that your son is in good health?"
"I would rather pluck out my eyes than read whatever's in that letter."
"A shame. I can assure you at least that Dorian is impressed."
"Vivienne!"
She laughed and continued her reading as the elf began to pace again. Much of it was useless and, more importantly, private – passionate words that had a touch of tenderness behind them – but, nearer the end, she soon came across the information that she and Solas sought.
…and once I'm home, I'm sure we can have a real contest over it.
But, unfortunately, I must come back to business. We were able to reach the ruins' upper levels today, after the soldiers managed to clear the rubble from the stairs. Fabriel, I believe you were right. There are apparatuses up there that I've never seen before, and strangely shaped vials marked with a Tevene word – I would say which one, but the labels are faded to the point where it's difficult to tell. I've included a sketch of them in case you have more ideas, but I'd wager a sack full of gold that these ruins were once a research site for Tevinter draconologists, based on some of the equipment we found.
I'm sending a few of the vials with Leliana's people for you. They're delicate – one of them broke when I picked it up. It took us four hours to extract them all from the site. If the couriers damage them, you have my full permission to skin them alive.
I'll continue with the work here and see if we can find anything else. No sign of drakes yet, but I'll write if we come across them.
Yours in love,
Dorian
P.S. – Could you send more of those pink candies with the little green ribbons? One of the researchers stole my last pack.
"It seems our dear Dorian has come across something of interest," Vivienne said as she offered him the sketch, "Vials with an odd shape, apparently ancient."
Solas took the paper from her and stood in silence as he studied it. The vial had been moulded into a strange spiral as if to hold more liquid, and had a stopper with a flared based that he had never seen before. The glass was cracked and it appeared to be empty – it either had never been used, or whatever it held had long since been removed. For some reason, the sight of it made him uncomfortable.
"Is he sending samples to Skyhold?"
"Yes, though by the sounds of it the couriers will have to be careful. Dorian mentions they're quite delicate."
"I've never seen vials like these. Their design is unique."
"I doubt they were made for long distance travel, so whatever these Tevinters were doing it wasn't meant to leave the mountains. Dangerous research, I assume – too dangerous to be left unguarded."
"Which means their decision to do so must have been the result of an extreme situation."
"The Dragon-Slayer might have come across these designs before. Dorian certainly believes he might have a better idea of what these people were up to. But perhaps we should confer with Frederic first, see if he has any sources on what these vials were traditionally used for. He did receive a formal education, after all."
"Fabriel is the better option. His travels have taken him to strange places and shown him strange things. I've no doubt he could have come across one of these at some point, or perhaps he's heard about them from a more knowledgeable source. It's better to ask him before we take sensitive information to someone else."
Vivienne frowned and stared at him for a moment, studying his prone posture, the tension of his shoulders. It was late but he did not seem tired; instead, Solas was as alert as a man who had just slept.
"Guilt shouldn't influence your decisions, Solas," she told him. "In any case, the Vessel is asleep. He won't wake until after the draught has worn off, which won't be until dawn at the earliest. We need someone to investigate this now."
The elf clutched the paper in his hand and turned from Vivienne, studying it for a moment more before he handed it back to her. His face was firm and resolute.
"Do as you see fit," he said, "I'll trust no one else's word but Fabriel's."
The enchanter hesitated, but took it from him after a beat.
"Do you truly believe that the Dragon-Slayer will know what these are?" she asked. It was a serious question, and Solas could see that she needed him to be honest in his reply. It was a rare moment of sincerity for her, perhaps the first the elf had ever seen.
"I cannot be certain," he admitted, "but Fabriel has often surprised me when it comes to matters such as this. Considering that he will be the one receiving the samples, and we invaded his privacy, it seems only fair that we should ask him before we do anyone else."
She paused for another beat. "Very well, Solas. I'll hold off on asking Frederic, at least until you've had the chance to speak to our dear Vessel. But I do expect to be kept informed."
"I'll notify you at once," said Solas, and Vivienne could not tell if he was being truthful. "For now, let me take this sketch and see what can be done. I want to confer with Fabriel the moment I can."
The enchanter nodded and passed him the sketch once more. Solas' lips thinned, and with a slight shake of his head he turned and exited the library.
He could see the Black City.
He had never seen it before, not outside of the pages of a book. He had heard stories, of course – a place once paved with shimmering gold, blackened by the touch of ancient, prideful magisters. But to see it in person was another matter entirely. Its spires were twisted and dark and stood like spears, its walls in a state of disrepair, and as he looked he felt a deep sense of foreboding spread over him; a sense that he should not be there.
There was movement behind him. Fabriel turned to see Solas approach, clad in a strange plated armour that was elven in design, holding a bulbous staff that sparked with arcane energy. The elf reached his side and looked up at the City ahead, looming as a curse in the distance.
"The Black City," he noted. Fabriel nodded.
"The seat of the Maker, tainted by people's touch." He said, "It's difficult to see."
"Perhaps the more you explore the Fade, the less it will have an effect on you."
"Corypheus was one of those magisters, no? The first of the darkspawn. Did he say anything about that moment, when he walked into the City? Do you remember?"
"Yes."
"You're not going to tell me?"
"It would be pointless to. Corypheus spent much of the time afterwards confused what had happened, and by the time he created the Breach he had convinced himself he was destined for Godhood."
"Does that mean there's no truth in what he might have said, or that you don't want to consider the possibility?"
"It means we cannot trust it, no matter if it was true or not," he told him, "but enough of this. We have more pressing concerns."
"We do?"
"Before you fell asleep—"
"Before you drugged me," Fabriel interrupted, and his father froze. The traveller looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I've had sleeping draught before, Solas. That taste is unforgettable."
"And you continued drinking it?"
"I imagined Vivienne would take personal offense if I didn't." He smiled. "That, and I understand the reasoning behind it. I've not had a decent sleep since Dorian left Skyhold. Perhaps I was a little…stubborn."
"That is an understatement."
"Mother told me I was like my father."
Solas laughed, "Perhaps. Though I prefer to be stubborn than arrogant, as I was when I was young. I'm glad to see you seem to have avoided that. I had enough trouble fending off demons when you were a child."
The pair laughed together, and as Solas rested his hand on Fabriel's shoulder he nodded away from the City.
"Come," he said, "Let's walk. I have something to discuss with you."