A/N: Thank you for your feedback, BLR-Crusher! Hopefully, things should be clearer from now on. Enjoy!

Summoned

Following a rude awakening, a swift preparation, and a rushed journey to the governor's mansion, the Inquisitor and her party ascended the steps leading to the ballroom. A fortnight after their first audience, and now they suddenly required her immediate presence? It seemed suspicious.

Leliana scanned the meeting room carefully as the doors closed at their backs, nearly stepping on Inara's heels while she wove her way through the crowd. The magisters could be heard squabbling about the appearance of more red lyrium disrupting their mining operations. As the latest arrivals nudged their way to front, Archon Radonis waved for silence.

"Inquisitor," he crooned, "I am pleased you could join us. Step forward. We were just discussing how valuable your expertise would be in light of the lyrium's expansion."

"I am no mage, and there are others far better suited to such study. I can see what my sources have to offer, however," the elf acknowledged smoothly. "And I can reach out Arcanist Dagna for her thoughts, but my personal experience mostly involved slashing it with a dagger until it shattered."

Leliana resisted a threatening smirk.

"I believe you were given the opportunity to see the red lyrium in its full glory," Radonis corrected slyly. What were they up to now? "In the earlier days of the Inquisition, you walked physically in a future that was never to be seen…or so it seemed."

"I and Master Pavus both saw it, yes," she confirmed, standing tall and avoiding any signs of surprise or weakness. "Left unchecked, red lyrium could infect the entire known world."

"And, when you have considered stopping the Veil from falling and finding supposed sanctuaries, did you also consider that you did not truly stop the growth of this new blight?"

"Oh, how true that term is," Inara sighed, her patience wearing thin. "Yes, we've considered it; and no, we have not discovered a perfect solution yet. It is one of the reasons your aid is needed. Is that why you asked me here?"

"No."

The women scowled at the Archon's lack of elaboration. In her watchfulness, Leliana noted that the pruned female magister, who had spoken so strongly against Radonis and the Inquisitor, was simply gone. Her former apprentice, who had been cringing at the old woman's mere presence only weeks ago, was sitting in her place, enrobed with the attire of a full magister. The Spymaster reserved her suspicions of the circumstances; however, she had caught whispers in the city of a certain aged mage being eliminated via poisoning.

"While I appreciate the delicacy of your situation," the Herald stated, managing to keep her expression pleasant, "you must also appreciate that time is presently a precious commodity. Have you considered our offer of an alliance?"

"We have," the Archon replied proudly, his snakelike eyes surveying his compatriots. "We would be honored to join forces with you and your people; however, before we can turn our full attention to more universal issues, we must resolve the conflicts within our own borders. Only a united Tevinter can truly stand against the coming cataclysm."

"If you speak of the Quanari, there is only so much I can do. If possible, I would like to eventually reach out to them as well, depending on the progression of current events. And the Inquisition is no longer a military force since it was disbanded. Our specialties now lie in our eyes and ears."

"And I'm sure you wish to keep the full extent of that reach as an unknown. I can respect that."

So, not the Qunari. Inara cocked her head in puzzlement, preparing to make another guess. Leliana glanced at Dorian, who toyed with his mustache with a deliberately neutral expression. His eyes eventually met hers, however, reflecting the same cryptic warning he had given prior to his departure this very morning: Tread carefully. Considering all of the trouble the young magister had evidently and shamelessly caused for this group over the past year, his concern now was troubling.

"Have you lifted the siege at Ventus?"

"Reinforcements have been dispatched," Radonis waved, enjoying the game. The Herald's body stiffened at this apparent waste of time. "We should hear news of their success or failure in the days to come."

"And the Cult of Fen'Harel hasn't caused too much trouble? I have scouts pinning down their position even as we speak."

"And I am sure the Inquisition will have them handled. While we appreciate your concern, I was speaking more of our…internal struggles." The Archon couldn't help but smile, which only spelled trouble for the next bit of news. "Normally, slave rebellions are merely annoyances to be shrugged off and punished; however, this time is different."

"How so?" Inara dared to ask. Leliana felt a pit growing in her stomach, cursing herself for not seeing this coming.

"The escaped slaves are more organized, more trained, and more devious than we have witnessed in a century. The resources we would willingly dedicate to your cause are currently occupied with scrambling against this uprising. All the while, most of our forces are focused on the invasion of the Qun. Researchers are being slaughtered by explosions; garrisons are being torn apart; and noblemen are having their throats cut in their sleep - by slaves. Your eyes and ears can be put to good use in finding the leaders of this upstart coup and crushing it. Only then can we bring our full attention to preventing an apocalypse."

The mage's eyes glittered with amusement at the position he was putting the Inquisition in.

"You're wanting me to choose," Inara summarized quietly, her eyes turning to meet Leliana's, then Dorian, then finally landing on the Archon. "You want me to choose between helping you re-leash your slaves and…" The rogue's lips curled in disgust, her next words not bothering to hide her feelings on the matter. "You would let the world burn if I refuse to aid your archaic fetish for control?"

"Through no fault of our own," the man simpered. While he showed no reaction to the Herald's stinging words, others did. Several more traditional mages glowered at her for mocking their lifestyle. The woman shifted ever so slightly as she realized her own brutally honest phrasing, but the Archon leaned forward with a fatherly tone. "I understand we ask much of you, Lady Inquisitor, but you also ask much of us. Consider your position, take your time, and send word when you are prepared to give your answer. Remember, our ultimate goals are the same."

Inara hooked her hand securely into the back of her belt. Though her bow was generous, her fingernails clawed into the stiff leather around her waist.

"I apologize for my rash wording, and I appreciate your consideration. Good day, m'lord."

With an almost military stiffness, the Inquisitor retreated from the meeting room without further ceremony. She continued walking until the outer door of the mansion muted the sounds of the Magisterium, who had moved on to other topics with hardly a pause. Only then did she allow her shoulders to slump with a weary sigh. Her archer companion led the way back to their horses and awaiting guard detail before her own mask slipped.

"Your thoughts, Inquisitor?"

Inara passed a hand over her face, rage replaced by exhaustion, despite it only being midday.

"Years of fighting for everyone's freedom, and now we're asked to openly reinforce a culture based on slavery in the name of that same cause? I knew the magisters would be devious, but this…" Shaking her head, the elf took her horse's reigns from the stable hand and slipped gracefully into the saddle. "I think that was a test, Leliana. And I think I just failed."

Dorian groaned with relief as he entered the refuge of his home at day's end. The Magisterium would be breaking for at least several days until news of Ventus reached them. He wondered what he might do with so much spare time. The sound of conversation from the back library seemed to answer his question as he handed his cloak to Gianna. He was glad Leliana and Inara had made themselves at home. While the sending stones were a blessing, the Herald's physical presence bolstered his determination to redeem his homeland in these darkening times.

"So, in your dreams last night…you fought a Pride Demon?" he overheard the Spymaster.

"That was a small part of it. Three different parts; three different perspectives. When the dream was but my own, we were in the Skyhold main hall – a sunny day without any politicians or petitioner's come to call. When we stepped onto the stairs leading to my quarters, however, we also stepped into another realm of the Fade – Feynriel later advised that it was likely Solas' memory. And when we stepped through the eluvian…"

Dorian turned left in the parlor to fetch himself a glass of brandy.

"That's when you found the demon?"

"He insisted that the Pride Demon likely took the original dream and twisted it to its own purposes, but I can't help fearing that it could come true. I think the captives held in the red lyrium were meant to be Evanuris, so it must have been a future where the Veil had already fallen? Pride believing that he could contain the old gods?"

"Sounds as though Feynriel ensured you had a busy night."

"He seems more urgent than before," Levellan mused, her tone growing more serious. "As though we're running out of time. It's all a bit overwhelming." The library fell silent for a moment while Dorian tossed his coat onto one of the meeting room chairs and carried his drink down the hall. "Now, back to the task at hand. You said the ruins were located here, about a day and half journey south?"

"Indeed. I overheard someone in the market talk of a herd of halla that has been spotted in the area. Perhaps we may see them on the way."

"On the way to where exactly?" the mage piped up from the doorway, swirling his drink with a charming smile.

"We're planning a trip," Leliana grinned, outwardly undisturbed by today's meeting. Her companion was sitting on the righthand couch, holding a folded Tevinter map, while the Spymaster wistfully braided the elf's hair into an intricate pattern. "And you're coming with us."

"Am I?" he tsked, begrudgingly allowing the women to draw him out of his drained state while he took the opposite divan. "Where are we going?"

"Well, the Inquisitor desires to explore some different scenery for her dreams. And we decided we all needed a break from politics." She soothingly brushed a strand of hair over the elf's delicately pointed ear. "Particularly in light of recent events."

Inara wordlessly handed the man an open book on Tevinter mysteries, her finger pointing to an entry of lost cities and villages. Her expression was just as stubbornly unbothered as Leliana's.

"Tarasuvun," he read. "Was that not the village Solas said he hailed from? The one you later discovered to be a ruin abandoned for centuries?"

"Multitasking," Inara smiled teasingly, reclaiming the book. She began to trace their intended route on the map, her legs comfortably folded underneath her. "We've earned some room to breathe. We leave on the morrow."

Dorian watched his best friend for a time as he sipped his brandy, glad to see her more settled in her own skin. For months, he had quietly fretted for her wellbeing, knowing that she hovered over a precipice. She could have easily made some harebrained suicide run, turned to alcohol, or found distraction in various intimate company, but she always remained steadfast and solitary. Outwardly, it had only encouraged the world to see her as some soulless idol. Still, he knew Inara had nearly crumbled, and these dreams had returned that unique spark of life to her kind eyes. It was a good thing, though Leliana was prone to debate that point.

Sensing the attention, the Herald finally looked up from her map with a quizzical twitch of an eyebrow. He only smiled, recalling the last thing Cole had said to him during their evening in the Inquisition camp outside the city walls:

"She was breaking, but now the cracks are filling with gold."

Thank you for reading, and don't forget to follow and review! Coming up: More dreams and a new ability.