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The crowd began to disperse as Ciri and Rylen made their way back from depositing Olgierd on her bed. Vivienne exclaimed over the state of Letia's worn robes, leading her and the other Witchwood mages from the chantry in search of clean water and a hot meal. Evelyn went with them, and Maxwell disappeared back into the office he shared with Josephine. Ciri headed in her direction, seeing her standing by herself staring at Ciri's door.

Leliana intercepted her. "Messengers came to the gates while you were waiting," she said quietly. "Go to the War Room. I'll gather the others."

Ciri's relief instantly soured to irritation. Could she not have five minutes to breathe? She gave her a short nod and turned on her heel, walking to the far end of the chantry. Owain awaited her there. He leaned by the door with a look of concern in his eyes, and as she approached he extended a hand in her direction.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Am I all right? They didn't do it to me."

"That doesn't mean it wasn't hard on you." She let him take her hand, and he gently held it, eyes dark and kind. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do –"

"Protect the new mages," she told him. "They've been through enough."

"Gladly."

They stood there a moment, her hand in his, his eyes on hers, a bubble of silence around them. Her stomach fluttered, and he gave her a small smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"Ciri –"

"Ser Owain," Leliana interrupted from over Ciri's shoulder. "Forgive me, but I need to borrow the Hand for a council meeting. Perhaps you could resume this later?"

Ciri pulled her hand away, cheeks hot. "I'm coming. I'll speak with you later, Owain."

He just chuckled. "Until then."

Leliana gave a light laugh as the door to the War Room closed behind them, all the advisors assembled around the table. "I didn't know you had eyes for Ser Owain, Lady Ciri. He is a handsome one, no?"

"Let's just get to the meeting," Ciri said hastily, swallowing her irritation and embarrassment.

Laughter still danced in her eyes, but Leliana left off the teasing and put two official-looking letters with broken wax seals on the table.

"These arrived while you were waiting," Leliana said. "One is an invitation to Redcliffe Castle from Magister Gereon Alexius. The other is an offer to meet from Lord Seeker Lucius Corin." She stepped back, looking around the room. "Thoughts, anyone?"

"The Temp –" Surprisingly, Cullen cut himself off. He reached instead for the letter from Lord Seeker Lucius and skimmed it, frowning. "Cassandra, does this seem right to you?"

"Let me see." She tugged the letter from his hands. "This can't be right!" she exclaimed, looking up at Leliana in consternation. "He'll only meet with the Hand of the Maker?"

"And not you, a fellow Seeker, or a delegation of our Templars," Leliana confirmed. "It did strike me as suspicious."

"And he specifies that the meeting must be held in Therinfal Redoubt," Cullen muttered. "I hate to say it, but I doubt we can trust this."

Chancellor Roderick glanced at the other letter. "This one requests you by name, Lady Ciri." He handed it to Josephine, who raised her eyebrows at the contents.

"The magister certainly doesn't skimp on the flattery, does he?"

"Indeed, he's so flattering, I'm certain he intends to kill you," Leliana said to Ciri.

Ciri reached for the letters, and Cassandra and Josephine promptly passed them over. Goodness, Alexius is quite the charmer, isn't he? And Lucius' demands seem rather suspect. "We were already intending to rescue the mages," she said, setting them down on the table. "And Felix warned us about the Venatori. This is merely confirmation. So, how do we proceed?"

"I don't see how," Cullen said. He looked at her cautiously, but her anger had dimmed since seeing Olgierd return safely, and she nodded for him to proceed. "Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled hundreds of assaults. Once you're inside, I don't see a way to safely get you back out should things go wrong."

"My 'Fade step' can carry me farther than I tend to use it in battle, Commander," Ciri said.

"It cannot carry you away from Redcliffe if Alexius creates more of those strange rifts," Cassandra said. "That magic interfered with yours. Remember?"

She had forgotten, and she shuddered as her mind conjured up the ghostly sensation of the heavy, cloying magic that had dragged her from between. "Then I'll fight. Worse men than Alexius have tried and failed to kill me. I won't let him be the one to take my life."

Leliana studied her. "Someday," she murmured, "You will have to share these stories, Lady Ciri."

If she didn't think the Chantry would call for her head, perhaps she would. Someday.

"It may be wiser to risk the meeting with Lord Seeker Lucius, and then go to Redcliffe," Cullen said. He held up a hand to stop Ciri's protest. "We simply don't have enough Templars here to safely manage the mages should they join us. Recruiting more Templars ought to be a priority."

"Saving the mages from slavery and driving a Tevinter cult from Ferelden should be our priority," Ciri retorted. "Not finding more jailers." She winced inwardly. This was the sort of hotheadedness that had brought the Chantry down on her only days ago.

"We're not – Templars are not jailers," Cullen argued.

"Before they rebelled, were mages allowed to leave the Circles?" Ciri asked, trying to keep a lid on her temper.

Cullen sighed. "No."

"And if they were found outside of a Circle, what happened?"

"They were to be brought back or...dealt with."

Ciri spread her hands in front of her, raising her eyebrows at him. "And this says something other than jailers to you?"

"That's not – Magic is dangerous, Lady Ciri," Cullen said. "Mages require guidance and oversight. An unchecked mage could do catastrophic harm. There will be hundreds of new mages in Haven if you succeed. We must keep control, or there will be abominations."

Like that poor girl Levyn had spoken of, the one who let a demon in to kill her attackers. Would Cullen blame her for losing control, point to it as an example of why Templars were necessary?

"I can understand that you believe that," she said evenly. "But I think you look for trouble because you can't imagine a world where mages are free."

"We've seen what mage rule looks like," Cassandra said. "Tevinter. Is that really so much better in your mind?"

"You're twisting my words, and you know it," Ciri said, stung. "There's a difference between living in peace and a slave-owning magocracy."

Josephine slashed her hand through the air. "Enough. This is going nowhere. How are we going to get Ciri into the castle and back out safely?"

"And you will not consider going to Therinfal?" Cullen asked, sounding quite resigned.

"Not a chance, Commander."

"Then we proceed with caution, Maker help us." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the map. "Getting you in will be the easy part. But you'll be surrounded. We'll have no way to protect you should things go sideways."

"And we can't afford to lose you," Chancellor Roderick added. "That magic on your hand is our only hope of sealing the Breach for good."

"I'm not so easily lost," Ciri said.

Cullen glowered down at the table with weary eyes, as if the answers he sought might be found in the map's lines. "We don't have the manpower to take the castle," he said in frustration. "We need another approach."

"Even if we did, it would be the height of foolishness," Josephine pointed out. "An Orlesian army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war. Call us a neutral power if you must, but so long as the Chantry backs us, our principal ties are to Orlais."

Cassandra grimaced. "The magister –"

"Has outplayed us," Cullen interrupted.

"Perhaps not," Leliana said, her keen eyes lighting up with a sudden thought. "When I traveled with Queen Elissa and King Alistair during the Blight, we had to make use of a secret entrance into Redcliffe Castle. An escape route for the family. It's too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through."

The hopeless look on Cullen's face faded some, but he still objected. "It's too risky. Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the magister."

"I believe that's where I come in," Ciri said. "He wishes an envoy. Let's give him one."

"And while the attention's on you, we dismantle the trap," Cullen concluded. "It could work, but it's still dangerous."

"Did you miss the part where an assassin tried to kill me in my sleep in Val Royeaux?" Ciri asked rhetorically. "What part of this hasn't been dangerous? I'll take my chances."

The door to the War Room swung open, and Dorian Pavus swaggered in, a scout rushing along in his wake. All eyes turned to the intruder.

"Fortunately, you'll have help," Dorian declared.

"This man says he has information on the magister and his methods, sers," the scout said. Cullen dismissed him with a nod, and the scout shut the door behind him.

Dorian nodded at Ciri and leveled a challenging look at the advisors. "You'll never get past Alexius' magic without my help. So if you're going after him, I'm coming along."

"Of course," Ciri said before anyone could reject his help. "Thank you for coming, Dorian."

"Don't thank me until we've stopped Alexius."

Cullen looked resigned. "This plan puts you in a great deal of danger, Lady Ciri. But I know better than to try to talk you out of it."

"I appreciate your restraint," she said dryly.

"Have you considered who you'll take with you?" Josephine asked. "We may be able to pass off a small party as an official delegation."

She cut a sideways look at Dorian. "Don't look at me," he said. "I thought I'd lurk in the shadows and make a dramatic appearance when the time was right. If he knows I'm with you, it'll tip him off."

"Then Olgierd and Triss, if we can put off leaving until tomorrow," Ciri said.

Cullen and Cassandra exchanged a look that had Ciri's hackles rising again. "It would be best if you only brought one of them, Lady Hand," Cassandra said. "They are your friends, yes, but a recently Harrowed mage and an apostate are not the sorts of representation the Inquisition needs."

"Von Everec would be the safer choice," Cullen suggested.

Ciri eyed him skeptically. "Just the other day you said you distrusted him."

"He's a Harrowed mage now," Cullen said. "He's proven his ability to withstand demonic temptation. His abilities unsettle me still, I'll admit that much, but there's no longer any worry that those abilities mean he's at a greater risk of possession."

Templars, Ciri thought, were illogical. Nothing had changed about Olgierd's mind, or his magic, or even his morals in the hours before and after his Harrowing. Yet they seemed to think he'd become an entirely different man.

"Olgierd, then," she said reluctantly. Triss was the better choice, but they knew nothing of her background. To them, Triss was a runaway apprentice, not a magical advisor to kings. And if she couldn't bring Triss, then Solas certainly wouldn't be welcome.

"I would be glad to accompany you and see justice done," Cassandra offered.

However bluntly stated, it felt like an attempt at an olive branch. If she wished, she could simply reach out and take it. But her anger over the Harrowing, and Cassandra's arguments for it, still simmered.

"I'm going to recruit the mages," she said bluntly. "The free mages. We're not making this attempt simply to get them back under the Chantry's thumb."

Cassandra's mouth twisted in discontent. "I understand. Still, I would stand with you. The Maker brought you to us for a reason. Perhaps your choices are His way of showing us a new path forward."

Chancellor Roderick looked uneasy at her words. "I should hope you would consider it a grave responsibility, Lady Ciri, and not an opportunity to sow chaos. Justinia entrusted you with her legacy. Use it wisely."

"I believe I am," she told him and looked to Cassandra. "I'd thought perhaps Blackwall – but you're welcome. Of course."

"Then it's decided," Leliana said. "We'll leave tomorrow. Josephine, Chancellor, will you see to whatever preparations are necessary for the mages when they arrive?"

"My time might be best spent trying to find a good way to explain all this to the Chantry," Chancellor Roderick said. "Without inciting them to take action again."

"If you need assistance drafting a letter, I'm happy to help," Josephine told him. She looked pleased with the thought.

"I will choose the scouts for this mission," Leliana said. "I'm sure you have other things that need doing, Lady Ciri. We won't keep you."

"Come on," Ciri said, beckoning Dorian to follow her from the War Room. "I'll show you around."

"Did I hear correctly?" he asked quietly as they left the advisors behind. "There was a Harrowing recently?"

Ciri nodded. "Just before you arrived. Olgierd is still sleeping it off."

Dorian brightened. "How marvelous! I've arrived in time for the party."

She gave him a blank look. "I suppose that's one of the cultural differences between Southern Thedas and Tevinter?"

"No party? What a shame. It's a grand coming of age in the Tevinter Circles," Dorian said. His hands waved expressively as he spoke. "We had all my favorite foods at mine, and everyone brought gifts – trinkets, really, little enchanted baubles or interesting spellbooks. I was tutored for weeks leading up to it, nothing left to chance except my own strength of will."

"And how was it?" she asked. This sounded quite different from the way the Chantry here went about things.

"Oh, it was delightful. I met a perfectly lovely desire demon. It fed me grapes as we lay on a bed of pillows," he said and winked. "Then it tried to possess me. Just goes to show that you can never trust a lover that's prettier than you are."

Ciri thought wryly of her scars and white-streaked hair, and she forced a smile. "I'll be sure to watch my back, then."

Dorian looked instantly apologetic, but before he could say anything, Triss waved them over from outside Ciri's bedroom door, calling her name quietly.

"What did they want with you?" Triss asked as Ciri drew near.

Ciri lowered her voice, not wanting to wake Olgierd. "We leave on the morrow for Redcliffe Castle. Magister Alexius has extended an invitation, and I'm to head a small delegation while Leliana sneaks in her agents through the back."

"I'll pack my things," Triss said at once.

"I could only bring one other mage with me," Ciri said apologetically, "And they would rather it be Olgierd, now that he's done their Harrowing."

Triss crossed her arms and glared at the door at the far end of the chantry. "They are so – so – backwards. They force him through their barbaric Fade ritual and suddenly he's the better option? When I have the formal education and the greater range of spells at my disposal?"

"Triss," Ciri said carefully, mindful of Dorian's presence, "You're a runaway apprentice. They're being stupid, but it's not Olgierd's fault."

"No," Triss admitted, slumping against the wall. "It's not. Damn it. I should be there to watch your back, to help with the rebel mages."

"Ride there with us anyway," Ciri offered. "Even if you can't come to the castle. Once we have the mages in hand, you can help get them settled."

"I can do that," Triss said. She still seemed dissatisfied, but less unhappy than before. "I'll still pack, then. Do you want me to tell anyone else to come?"

"Solas and Varric," Ciri decided. "And Blackwall. Tell them they're staying back in Redcliffe as a last resort."

"If things go wrong, we'll need all the help we can get," Triss said.

"It shouldn't, but we'll be careful."

Triss left with a nod to Ciri and Dorian, and Dorian turned to Ciri with a curious look.

"How many apostates are there in your organization?"

"Too many by the Inquisition's count," she said. "There's me, Triss, Solas, and Olgierd – though I suppose Olgierd's a Chantry-approved mage now."

"Were you one of the infamous runaways we hear so much about in Tevinter, or did you manage to avoid the Circles altogether?"

Ciri smiled a little, thinking of her lessons with Yennefer and her brief, disastrous time at Aretuza. "I've never seen the inside of a Circle in my life. My mother taught me most of what I know about magic, and my father and uncles taught me swordplay."

"The apple didn't fall far from the tree, then," Dorian said.

She didn't correct him, pleased by the comparison. "No, it didn't." She began walking toward the chantry doors, leaving Dorian to catch up. "I'll show you around."

"Splendid! And then let's go to the tavern. Tell me, do they have anything better than the swill Fereldens seem to think passes for ale around here?"

She laughed. "You're doomed to disappointment, my friend."

Their party gathered in the Gull and Lantern, Redcliffe's only tavern, before Ciri ventured forth to the castle with Olgierd and Cassandra. They'd parted ways with Leliana and her agents well before they'd reached the village gates, leaving Dorian behind to sneak in with them. The tavern patrons, a mix of villagers and mages, watched their small group with equal parts wariness and hope.

Blackwall and Varric claimed a table in the corner for their group. Varric sat with one eye on the other customers while Blackwall took the farthest seat, setting his back to the wall. "Someone should wait outside the castle gates," he said quietly. "Without a runner to come back to alert us, we won't know things have gone to shit until it's too late to help."

"That's my job," Triss told him. She matched his quiet tone, eyes alert for eavesdroppers.

"With any luck, we'll have no need for it," Olgierd said.

As Ciri watched, his face grew pensive, and his hand drifted to his sleeve. He'd done that several times since waking from his rest after the Harrowing. It was a new gesture that pricked her curiosity. Little about him seemed changed, though he'd been less inclined to stay up past the others to stargaze on the journey to Redcliffe. Perhaps he felt more comfortable in the Fade now. Perhaps she'd been wrong, and the Harrowing had changed things. She'd press him later when things weren't so urgent and they had a bit of privacy.

"Regardless, it should be you, Merigold, not me," he said. "This cause is dearer to you than to any of the rest of us."

"The Chantry has spoken," Triss said, giving Cassandra an arch look. "You're one of them now, as far as they see it. Besides, I'm better positioned to run for help if it's needed. And you'll have Ciri's back if she needs it."

"For as long as she wishes it," Olgierd agreed. He didn't address the rest of it.

Cassandra ignored Triss' dig with the sort of stern forbearance she usually brought to such conversations. Ciri had been tempted to make a few herself over the journey to Redcliffe, but Olgierd had seemed not to hold the Harrowing against Cassandra, and if they could manage to be calmly professional, then it was no business of hers to carry on angrily in his place.

"Be mindful of treachery, da'len," Solas advised. "Expecting it does not mean you can counter it. The strange time magic here caused you trouble. Take care not to fall into a second trap while avoiding the first."

"I'll do my best," Ciri promised. "And I have a few new spells now, thanks to you."

Solas had a proud glint in his eye at that, but still, he cautioned her, "Play to your strengths. A Tevinter magister has far more training in the arcane arts than I've had time to give you."

"We shall be on our guard, Solas," Cassandra said. "Do not worry unnecessarily. Leliana has things well in hand."

Solas inclined his head, not quite conceding to her argument. "Let us hope so."

"Shall we?" Ciri stood from the table, and Olgierd, Cassandra, and Triss followed suit.

Varric tossed her a friendly salute, settling down deeper into his seat. "Watch yourself, Songbird. We'll hold down the tavern."

"Thanks, Varric."

Ciri adjusted her swords across her back and straightened her belt so her dagger lay close to her hand, and she led the way back out of the tavern. She saw no sign of more Tevinter mages on the short walk to the castle gates, but it seemed everyone in the village knew their business. Conversations hushed and eyes followed them as they passed.

A stony-eyed guard raised the portcullis, waving them through. Triss stopped short.

"I'll wait here," she said, smiling politely at the guard, who ignored her.

"Follow me," the guard grunted.

They fell in behind the guard, leaving Triss on the other side of the portcullis as they ventured farther into the castle courtyard. The guard led them up a flight of stone stairs to a sturdy wooden door, which he opened and gestured for them to walk through with a short jerk of his head.

"Don't keep the magister waiting."

A single person waited in the small anteroom, dressed in ornate gray and white clothing that mirrored what Magister Alexius and Felix had worn on Ciri's first trip to Redcliffe. He studied them from behind a blank, full-face steel mask, then beckoned silently.

Ugh. Is this one of the cultists? No wonder Felix worries for his father.

The cultist led them from the anteroom and through another door, this time into what looked to be a great hall or throne room. A number of other cultists stood silently to the sides of the room by the tall stone pillars. At the far end, lounging on the arl's seat, was Magister Alexius. Felix and Grand Enchanter Fiona stood to each side, Felix close at hand and Fiona at the bottom of the steps like a petitioner. A fire burned in the hearth behind the seat – the only light besides the high windows.

"Announce us," she ordered the silent cultist, voice ringing with her grandmother's stern tones.

A Ferelden man wearing a supercilious sneer approached, eyeing their small party dismissively. "The magister's invitation was for Lady Morhen alone," he said. "The others must stay behind."

"This is an official Inquisition delegation," Ciri replied swiftly. "Surely Magister Alexius doesn't wish to start these negotiations off on the wrong foot by offending our people."

The man's sneer deepened, but he bowed his head and turned on his heel, leading the way up the short flight of stairs and down the long carpet to the humble throne.

"My lord magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived," the Ferelden man announced.

Alexius stood from the arl's seat, a broad smile on his face that didn't reach his cold eyes. "My friend! What a pleasure to see you again. And your colleagues, of course. I would offer you refreshments, but I have a feeling you'd rather get down to business."

"And what of me?" Fiona asked angrily. "Will you leave me out of the negotiations?"

"Now, Fiona, this anger is unbecoming," Alexius scolded her. "You and I have already concluded our negotiations. If you didn't trust me, you wouldn't have put your people's lives in my hands."

"The Grand Enchanter's voice is a welcome one in this discussion," Ciri interjected. She had a fair idea of how Alexius came to be 'trusted' by Fiona. That he'd used his time magic to back Fiona into a corner and erase her options was both clever and abhorrent.

Fiona seemed surprised that Ciri would advocate for her. "Thank you."

Alexius' smarmy smile faded some at that, and he turned and retook his stolen seat. "The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach and I have them," he began. "So, what shall you offer in exchange?"

He leaned back, his face, his bearing, everything about him giving the impression of a man who believed he held all the cards. The fire behind him cast his face into shadow, darkening his forehead and carving pits into his cheeks. Ciri had the unsettling feeling she was negotiating with a particularly smug skull.

"The Inquisition has ties to nobility in the Free Marches and Orlais," she said, "Not to mention the backing of the Chantry. Should you desire compensation for preventing the end of the world, something suitable can be arranged."

"I fail to see what the Southern nobility could offer that I don't already possess," Alexius dismissed. "And I'm afraid that as a member of the Magisterium, any compensation from your Southern Chantry would be looked upon with disfavor. Do you have anything else?"

Felix finally spoke, and when he did, Ciri mentally swore. Damn it! I was trying to stall!

"I told her everything, Father."

Alexius twisted in his seat to look up at his son, suspicion and dread slowly filling his eyes. "Felix...what have you done?"

"He came to me out of concern for you," Ciri said. "He's afraid you're involved in something terrible."

"So speaks the thief!" Alexius snarled. "You dare try to turn my son against me? You walk into my stronghold, a stolen mark on your hand – a gift you don't even understand – and think you're in control." He scoffed. "You're nothing but a mistake."

"A Surprise, perhaps," she said lightly, unable to restrain herself from making the joke, "But no mistake."

He glowered, unamused.

"What is this mark, then, if you know so much about it?" she asked.

"It belongs to your betters," Alexius said, rising from his seat. "You couldn't even begin to understand."

"Father, listen to yourself!" Felix implored. "Do you know what you sound like?"

Dorian appeared from behind one of the thick stone columns, and Ciri felt tension she didn't realize she was carrying release between her shoulders.

"He sounds like a sneering villain straight out of bad Orlesian theatre," Dorian said. He walked over with an air of self-assuredness Ciri rather envied, not a hair out of place or a speck of dust on his robes to give away his journey through the back entrance.

Alexius' anger changed then, drawing inwards at the sight of him. "Dorian," he greeted him, voice grave. "I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium to triumphs beyond imagination! We will rule from Par Vollen to the Sundered Sea!"

"You can't involve my people in this!" Fiona protested.

"Oh, that's just fucking brilliant," Ciri burst out. "A charismatic cult leader with an intimidating title rallies the populace back home with ideas of expanding the homeland, and people just jump right in, blindly following him down the bloody path. Never mind the burned fields, the dead villagers, the raped women – it's all for the glory of the empire! Really? Are you that blind?"

"Well, to be fair, Tevinter has never been good at saying no to bad ideas," Dorian said with a rueful sort of smirk, then he sobered and took a step forward. "Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen. Why would you do this?"

"Stop this, Father," Felix added. "Give up the Venatori. Let the Southern mages fight the Breach, and let's go home. Together."

"No, Felix! He can save you!" Alexius seemed desperate, close to the edge.

"Save me?"

"There is a way – the Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the temple..." Alexius trailed off and looked at Ciri with hard eyes.

"I'm going to die, Father," Felix said implacably. "You need to accept that."

"Seize them," Alexius ordered his men. "The Elder One demands this woman's life."

Ciri reached for her sword, but the sound of falling bodies, of last gasps and dying gurgles, reached her ears instead of men leaping to action. She glanced behind her and saw Leliana's scouts appearing from behind the pillars.

"Your men are dead, Alexius," she declared and took a single step forward to stand by Dorian.

The last strands of civility holding Alexius back seemed to snap behind his eyes.

"You...are a mistake," he growled. He extended a hand, and a strange green-black amulet began to float above his palm, throwing off eerie sparks.

"You should never have existed."

"NO!" Dorian shouted, and flung a spell into Alexius' hand.

The amulet spat out a rippling green disc of light, too fast to dodge or counter, and the last thing Ciri saw before it swallowed her and Dorian was Olgierd and Cassandra, both reaching for her.