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"What offer?" Varric asked. He looked between Ciri, Anders, and Hawke in confusion.
"To separate us," Anders said quietly. "Justice and I. We –"
He broke off as he looked down the hall, and a sheen of blue-white covered his eyes. "This place is not safe," Anders declared in ringing tones. "Templars walk among the people here."
Hawke grabbed his arm. "Justice, no. I met them before. They left the Templars. They don't oppress mages here, I promise. The tall one is even the Inquisitor's lover."
Justice glared down at Ciri. "You consort with the oppressors?"
"Owain isn't a Templar," Ciri said, fighting the urge to glance over her shoulder. Justice's volume was attracting attention. "He's a good man. Rona and Raúl are both good people."
"Anders," Hawke called gently. "Come back. It's safe. You know I wouldn't bring you into a trap."
Anders' face contorted into a grimace, and the blue-white sheen receded. "Sorry," he muttered. He cast a cautious look over Ciri's shoulder. "We're a little wary around Templars. Understandably."
"How could you tell?" Ciri asked. "They don't even wear the armor anymore."
"The training shows," Anders said. "Even just in their posture."
Ciri turned around to see what he meant. Owain, Rona, and Raúl stared in their direction, their backs straight and shoulders squared, all three leaning forward slightly. Ciri wasn't sure what Anders saw that meant 'Templar' rather than 'warrior,' and she was honestly inclined to chalk it up to paranoia and a good guess.
"I'll need to go talk to them," she told Anders, half expecting Justice to make another appearance. "Cassandra will need to be kept occupied, and someone will have to double-check that Cullen's still too tired to interfere."
"Yes, I heard your Inquisition had Knight-Captain Cullen as its military commander," Anders said, his voice low and hard. His hands curled into fists at his sides. "I suppose he received a pardon for everything he oversaw at the Kirkwall Circle? The beatings, the rapes, the illegal Tranquility? Or was it just swept under the carpet?"
Varric coughed. "Violent revolutionaries shouldn't throw stones."
Anders swung back around to stare down at Varric. "What I did, I did for the good of all mages. One building and a dozen lives were a small price to pay for freedom."
At Anders' side, Hawke looked down for a moment as discomfort briefly crossed her face. Ciri felt for her. She'd spoken with such conviction in Crestwood, but the Nightmare's accusations had clearly taken a toll on her confidence.
Varric lifted an upraised finger, opened his mouth, and then closed it and shook his head. "You know what? Nah. I'm not sticking my nose in this."
"You'll want to do this sooner rather than later, I'm guessing," Ciri said to Anders in an attempt to change the subject.
"If we could be back on the road before nightfall, that would be best," Hawke said. "We'd rather not stay here when Anders is a wanted man, even with your temporary amnesty."
"I'll get things arranged," Ciri said. "Are you alright waiting with Varric?"
Varric gave Anders a tense smile. "Oh, sure. We can catch up on things. You go work stuff out, Songbird. We'll be fine here."
Ciri left the three old friends behind to stand in an uneasy silence and returned to the table with Owain, Rona, and Raúl. Owain rose from the bench as she approached.
"Is that who I think it is?" he asked quietly. Ciri nodded, and he groaned and covered his mouth with his broad hand in worry. "The Commander's going to kill him."
"The Commander's laid up in bed with all the strength of an urchin with consumption," Raúl countered. "Still, this is…"
"You do know he killed well over two hundred people," Rona said. "Right?"
"I know," Ciri said. "The catch is that he doesn't seem to know that."
That caught their attention at once.
"You think it's the possession," Owain said.
Raúl nodded. "Blank spots in his memory, mood swings, obsessive thoughts, personality changes. It's possible."
"Cole said the possession changed him," Ciri told them. "He didn't say much, but I got the impression that the man he was before Justice possessed him wasn't the sort of person who went around blowing up chantries – though he was angry then, too."
"I don't know how you'd prosecute that," Owain said. "Back in the Circles, they'd just kill an abomination, even if there are ways of freeing a mage from possession. And if he's not competent, he can't be charged with a crime in Ostwick."
"Not in Antiva, either," Raúl added.
"Or Markham," Rona said. She looked at Ciri seriously. "If you can't separate them safely, what are you going to do? You realize you might have to kill the spirit to free the man, don't you? Or drop the amnesty and take him into custody? Extenuating circumstances or not, if you can't undo his possession, he shouldn't walk free to kill again."
"Even if he's not competent and can't be held accountable?"
Raúl held up his hands. "Technically insane," he said, lifting one like he was weighing something in his palm. He lifted the other. "Hundreds dead."
Ciri shook her head. "We have two different things we can try before we even need to think about killing Justice, and I'd rather not plan for arresting Anders before we've even started attempting to help him."
"That's the thing, Lady Ciri," Raúl said. He looked unusually solemn. "With the Commander out of commission, we're in command of military matters. If it looks like we need to – if he behaves erratically, or you can't solve his problem – then arresting him may be our only choice."
Ciri looked up at Owain. Her lover looked somber, and there was no disagreement on his face.
"I understand," she said, her stomach falling. "But in the meantime, we plan for success. If all goes well –"
"If all goes well, a sane, un-possessed Anders goes free," Rona said. "Which he shouldn't. He still blew up a chantry and killed a grand cleric."
"I'm aware of what he did," Ciri said. He wouldn't be the first or even second murderer she let go – and she could still change her mind if new evidence came to light.
Rona shrugged. "Fine. So, what do you need us to do?"
"Someone needs to keep Cassandra from storming in and demanding justice," Ciri said. "Anders' control over the spirit slipped when he caught sight of the three of you across the hall. I don't want to imagine what being accosted by a Seeker might do to him. And Cullen should likewise be kept away."
"Raúl and Rona can deal with that," Owain said. "What else?"
"Solas and Olgierd need to be tracked down," Ciri said. "They both know about this, though I'm not sure how much interest or willingness Olgierd has. We'll need a place to do it, too – possibly the new mage tower if Grand Enchanter Fiona will allow it."
Owain nodded. "I'll go find them for you. The request to use the tower's space might be better coming from you than from me."
Ciri thanked them quietly and left to head through the archway to the rotunda and up the spiral stairs to the library. She passed Dorian with a brief wave, Minaeve and Helisma with a nod, and hurried as she spotted the grand enchanter shelving a tome and turning to leave.
"Grand Enchanter?" she called softly.
Grand Enchanter Fiona turned back around and gave Ciri a small but genuine smile. "Inquisitor. It's always a pleasure to see you. Is there something you need?"
She hadn't realized the grand enchanter thought so highly of her. They hadn't spoken since she'd reunited her with King Alistair, and that had been almost three months ago.
"There is," she said, dropping her voice to a low murmur. "An unexpected visitor came a few minutes ago, someone who's been possessed for years. I made an offer to attempt to separate him from the spirit he's hosting without killing either of them – I know it will be difficult, but I believe it can be done."
Fiona looked curious, and she leaned in and matched Ciri's volume. "I've heard it can be done in theory, though I believe it's only successful when both the spirit and the mage wish to part. Can you tell me more?"
"He's been possessed for nearly a decade," Ciri said. "I hear he's had personality changes over the years. Some gaps in his memory. His control over the spirit seems somewhat tenuous."
Fiona took that in with a slow nod. "And he hasn't had any physical changes? He still looks like a person?"
"An ordinary human mage," Ciri confirmed, "albeit quite pale and thin. I've no idea if that's normal for him or not."
"Then it may not be too late, despite the length of possession." Fiona gave her an expectant look. "And does this unfortunate mage have a name?"
Ciri hesitated for a moment. "You have the right to refuse to help."
"Oh –" the grand enchanter broke off to swear quietly and vehemently in Orlesian. "Him?" she demanded. "You can't be serious!"
"He needs help," Ciri said simply.
Fiona rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, looking weary. "I appreciate what he tried to accomplish, but the way he went about doing it was appalling. Perhaps even unforgivable. But then, he did light the first spark for our rebellion. I'll give him that much credit." She sighed. "Very well. We have a new ritual room at the top of the tower that we can use."
"We?"
"You're bringing an abomination into the tower among mages whose safety and wellbeing I'm responsible for," Fiona said. "I will oversee this personally."
"Thank you," Ciri said sincerely.
"Don't thank me yet."
They went back down the stairs to the main hall together, and Ciri led her over to Varric's table. The uneasy tension seemed to have dissipated slightly in the several minutes she'd been gone, and Varric was shaking his head and laughing under his breath at something Hawke said as they approached. They looked up at the sound of their footsteps, smiles fading.
"Anders, this is Grand Enchanter Fiona," Ciri said, gesturing to the formidable mage at her side.
Anders' eyes widened. "Grand Enchanter. I wasn't expecting you to be involved. It's an honor to meet you."
"I wish I could say the same," Fiona said evenly. She studied his pale face and the faintest smile touched her lips. "You kicked over quite a hornet's nest, didn't you?"
"Something needed to be done," Anders insisted.
"Something was. The College voted for independence." The grand enchanter shook her head and beckoned for them all to follow her. "Whatever the case, it's done. That you're here means the Inquisitor vouches for you – don't squander that trust. We'll see what can be done for you."
"Where are we going?" Hawke asked, a note of suspicion in her voice.
"To the ritual room in the tower."
"There's a Circle Tower here?" Anders asked incredulously. His voice rose as the blue-white sheen crept over his eyes again. "You oppress yourselves? All that we sacrificed, all that we fought for, and you built your prison again?"
"Calm yourself, spirit," Fiona said, her voice steady and cool. "It is a place of our own, for study and magical endeavors. No Templars, current or former, are given leave to set foot within it. No mage is bound to the tower. We come and go at our leisure. This is a victory, not a defeat. We are the architects of our future."
Anders gripped his head in both hands and groaned. He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked back up, his amber eyes clear once more. "I'm sorry."
"I don't remember you losing control like this so often back in Kirkwall," Varric said uneasily.
"That's why we decided to come," Hawke told him. She watched Anders with concern.
It was a subdued, silent group that crossed the courtyard and went up the steps to the battlements leading to the entrance to the mage tower. To Ciri's relief, both Solas and Olgierd awaited them at the door. Solas had a damp, lumpy cloth bag and roll of parchment in his hand, and he looked quite interested in the hooded member of their group. Olgierd, in contrast, stood empty-handed and wore a grim expression.
"Might I speak with you a moment?" Olgierd said in greeting, and he jerked his head at the corner of the tower.
Ciri followed him to the side of the building. "Is something the matter?"
"Seems like just this morning I had this same talk with Cole," he said. "He appeared on my bed and asked me to bind him."
"Bind him?" Ciri asked. "He woke us, too. He wanted a Rivaini amulet, not binding."
"Because I'd not do it," Olgierd said. "Goetia, Ciri. I've no desire to use forbidden magics again. The pyromancy suits me well enough."
"What about the teleportation?" she asked. "Isn't that goetia?"
"In a sense," Olgierd admitted. "But it isn't bleeding myself to bind demons. I wish to put that behind me if I can. I'd do a great deal for you; you must know that. But I'd rather not do this."
"I understand," Ciri said, and she did. "It isn't binding, though, just summoning Justice out of Anders and sending him back to the Fade. Even normal mages here summon spirits under controlled circumstances."
"And a normal mage's summoning ritual can't overcome the possession," Olgierd concluded. He looked at her for a long, heavy moment, then sighed. "Should Solas fail, you'll have my help."
"Thank you." He still looked grim, and guilt rose in her again. "I'm sorry for asking."
"As you said, it's not binding. And with luck, I'll not be needed."
They returned to the entrance where the others still waited. Solas had handed off the bag and the parchment to Anders, and Anders was reading the words written on the page as Solas spoke.
"– An Avvar ritual, the Rite of Thanks-Giving," Solas said as they returned. "The possessed mage makes an offering of a slain bird or game animal, burns incense, speaks the words, and focuses their magic to open themselves to the Fade. You'll most likely need to drink lyrium."
"We have both incense and lyrium," Fiona said.
Anders hefted the bag and gave it a dubious look. "Will it count if I'm not the one who killed it?"
"Your intent matters as much as your actions," Solas told him. "I'm more concerned that Justice will not respond to the ritual should he not have had any interaction with the Avvar in his past."
"We won't know until we try," Hawke said with determined cheer. "Lead on, Grand Enchanter."
Fiona pushed open the doors to the tower and led them inside. Several mages were present, reading or chatting or laughing at one who'd conjured a handful of floating lights. All of them looked over to see who'd entered and nodded respectfully at the sight of their grand enchanter with the Inquisitor.
Ciri knew a few of the mages. Senior Enchanter Letia and Melora were two of the readers in the corner, and she immediately recognized the curly brown hair and freckles of Ilana Crane, one of the mages who'd fought alongside her in Haven. The burly, mustachioed Kaspar of Perendale was one of the laughing onlookers.
Letia stood from her chair and came forward. "Fiona…and guests. Welcome ones, to be sure," she said with a nod to Ciri, Olgierd, and Solas. "What brings so many people to the tower?"
"Is the ritual room empty?" Fiona asked, side-stepping the question.
"Symon had a project last night, but I don't believe anyone's using it currently," Letia said. "Is there something we can help you with?"
She peered beneath Anders' hood curiously, and Anders ducked his head.
"Just privacy," Fiona said as she stepped in front of Anders. "If you could keep everyone from that floor for however long we're up there, that would be helpful."
"Hm." Letia drew back, her eyes knowing. "We'll see to it."
Olgierd spoke up. "Have you any books with diagrams of summoning circles? Not for demons, but for more benign spirits. I could use the refresher."
Ilana went to the shelves and ran her fingers along the spines, one row after another. Finally, she paused and pulled a thin book bound in dark red leather from its spot and brought it to Olgierd.
"Here's the one you're looking for," she said.
"My thanks." He tucked it under his arm and turned back to Fiona. "Shall we?"
The trip up the tower was quiet. Ciri knew most of the Loyalist mages preferred to camp near the Templars in the valley below, or to make use of the regular Inquisition quarters. And a great many mages had volunteered to join the Inquisition's forces, which saw them spread out across Thedas. That left few mages in the tower today – an unexpected boon.
Fiona stopped at an iron-barred oak door at the top of the tower and turned to Anders. "This is a dangerous undertaking. A highly private one, as well. If you don't want any of these people to witness this, it's your choice."
"Hawke and Varric can come," Anders said after a moment of hesitance. "And the Inquisitor." He smiled at her tentatively. "You are the one putting your reputation on the line for me, after all."
"We'll wait outside," Solas said of himself and Olgierd.
Fiona nodded and went to the shelves beside the door. With the deft movements of someone who'd searched such shelves countless times before, she retrieved a small glass bottle filled with lyrium, a clay incense burner, and a little bag of granulated incense. She went back to the iron-barred door and turned the handle, pushing it open with effort.
The inside of the ritual chamber was chilly, almost uncomfortably so, with high, windowless walls and a seamless gray stone floor. The only light came from the eight sconces set evenly around the walls, two apiece. Fiona led them to the direct center of the room and gestured for Anders to remove his cloak and staff.
Free of the enveloping garment, Anders looked diminished. Almost gaunt. He wore the rough but sturdy clothes of a Ferelden farmer, dark trousers and a light shirt, and both hung loosely on him. His reddish-blond hair looked unwashed in its half-horsetail.
Concern filled Varric's face, but all he said was, "Never thought I'd see you without your feathers."
"They were too identifiable." Anders frowned down at his trousers. "I'm still not used to not wearing robes."
"It's not a bad look," Varric assured him.
Anders laughed softly as he knelt on the stone floor. "You used to be a better liar." He looked up at Hawke, the smile falling from his face. "If this fails –"
"You'll always have me," Hawke said fiercely. She knelt, too, and she kissed him, hard and swift, before standing and backing away. "I love you."
"And I love you."
Fiona set the burner and incense before him and passed him the bottle of lyrium, and he removed a pheasant from the sack and placed it beside the censor. He scanned the parchment one last time and handed it off to Varric.
"Alright," he said as he carefully deposited the incense in the burner and lit it. "Let's give this Avvar ritual a try."
Ciri could feel the change in the air as soon as Anders raised his arms. The smoke from the incense, a strong blend of balsam, cedar, and cinnamon, filled her nose as the hairs on the back of her arms began to stand on end.
"Hail, Justice!" Anders called out. "Partner, friend, and teacher. I bring you gifts of the sky, brought down with my own hand. I bring you gifts of the earth, burned in fire. I bring you my devotion and gratitude for our many years together. The time has come for us to walk separate paths. Hail, Justice! Strong and silent, protector of freedoms. I honor you! Walk free!"
He downed the lyrium and thrust his hands toward the ceiling.
The air in the chamber grew thick. The temperature climbed. A faint, crawling sensation, like static or insects, played across the back of Ciri's neck. The blue-white sheen overtook Anders' eyes again, creeping down his face and jaw in jagged lines.
The bird burst into flames, and the smell of burning feathers overtook the scent of incense. It burned down into nothing but a lump of greasy coal in seconds.
"Walk – free!" he gasped, then collapsed as Justice sank back inside.
Her ears popped as the pressure in the chamber dropped again.
"Well, shit." Varric's face creased with a frown as Hawke dropped to her knees beside Anders.
Ciri pushed open the door and stuck her head out. Solas and Olgierd looked back at her hopefully, and she shook her head.
Olgierd pulled the book out from under his arm. "I saw chalk and candles on the shelves," he said quietly. "I'll be but a moment."
"Thank you," she said and returned to the chamber, feeling another unpleasant squirm of guilt.
Achingly slowly, Anders sat back up. "It didn't work. It was so close – I could feel him pulling away!"
"Did it hurt?" Hawke asked. She ran her hands over his shoulders and arms tenderly, her face filled with worry.
"No," Anders said. "It felt like being stretched. But it wasn't me being stretched. And it was leaving a hole – I think I panicked when I felt that. That's probably why the ritual failed."
"We have another option," Ciri said. "Olgierd is going to try to summon Justice out of you directly and then send him back into the Fade."
Anders looked at her, his exhaustion not able to disguise his skepticism. "That's impossible."
"For all that Olgierd chooses to limit the spells he uses, he is quite a powerful mage," Ciri said. "I wouldn't count him out."
The door swung open again, and Olgierd entered, a bundle of candles tucked in the crook of his arm and a stick of chalk clutched in his hand. In his other hand, he held open the book, and he studied its pages carefully.
Fiona came to his side to look over his shoulder. "That is the one," she confirmed. "I don't see where it calls for candles, however."
"A minor variant on the spell."
Olgierd snapped the book shut and stepped forward to catch Anders' eyes. "If you need a moment, I can give it to you."
"No." Anders' voice was hoarse but determined. "Let's try again."
Olgierd crossed to the far side of the chamber and knelt to begin drawing the summoning circle. From Ciri's vantage point near the door, she couldn't see much, but it looked a great deal more complicated than a simple pentagram, with small, swirling lines and long, elegant whorls. He stood, walked ten paces away, and began to trace another.
"What –" Fiona murmured.
"He knows a different way," Ciri said hurriedly, keeping her voice low.
This one she recognized as a pentagram, stark and plain inside its circle. Olgierd set out the candles along the outside and knelt within it.
"You stay there," he said to Anders. "Don't move from that spot, not an inch."
Anders nodded in understanding. "I won't."
"And the tighter you cleave to your spirit, the worse it will likely feel," Olgierd warned him. "You must let him go."
Anders took a deep breath. "I will. I'm ready."
Hawke got up again and backed away. Varric wrapped a supportive arm around her back.
Olgierd closed his eyes and rested his hands on his knees for a long, silent moment, then raised them suddenly as he opened his eyes again. Flames shot up from the wicks of the candles surrounding him. Anders made a faint sound of discomfort and rubbed his chest.
Olgierd began to chant, low and harsh, in a tongue Ciri didn't recognize. A light breeze stirred the air within the chamber as Anders stiffened.
Ciri rubbed her arms. The air was growing colder, there was no doubt of that, yet the candle flames rose ever higher. Olgierd's voice grew stronger, more demanding.
Blue-white streaks crisscrossed Anders' face and neck, snaking past his hairline and down the collar of his shirt to twine around his fingers. The possessed mage shook and grimaced as Olgierd called to the spirit.
Then, in a burst of light and heat, Anders collapsed again, and the empty summoning circle suddenly held a translucent blue-white spirit shaped like a man in the full plate armor of a Grey Warden warrior.
Olgierd dropped his hands to his knees, panting, as the candle flames fell to a normal height. He slowly stood, taking care not to smudge the chalk or leave the circle.
"Anders?" Hawke called out.
Anders groaned and sat up. "I feel... Oh, Andraste's knickerweasels. The last time my head pounded like this, Sigrun and Oghren had challenged us all to a drinking contest."
"Anders!" Hawke raced to his side and flung her arms around him.
He stood on unsteady legs, his arms firm around Hawke's shoulders. His shaky whisper wasn't meant to be heard, but it carried past Hawke's ears to Ciri's. "I feel empty. Maker, Hawke. I feel so empty."
Hawke's whisper was quieter, but whatever she said seemed to reassure him. He gently eased out of her embrace and turned to face the spirit in the summoning circle.
"Hello, Justice," Anders said hoarsely.
"Anders," Justice replied. "Will you continue the fight for mage freedom without me?"
Anders managed a wan smile. "I suppose so."
"Good," Justice said firmly. "Our work is not yet done. If you said otherwise, I would need to stay."
Anders shook his head. "You can go. I won't forget about the other mages."
"We struck a blow for freedom together," Justice told him, his voice ringing with conviction. "We won a great victory! But the fight against oppression must not be abandoned. You are the cause of mages, Anders."
Anders twitched like he was holding in a flinch. "I'm what you made me," he said quietly. He looked down. "What we made each other."
"Take heart in your accomplishments," Justice advised him. "We taught each other to see clearly. You always had this fight in you, my friend. It is as I told you before. You have an obligation to act."
"I remember," Anders said, an edge of unhappiness in his voice.
"The physical world is uncomfortable," Justice declared and turned his helmeted head toward Olgierd. "Mage. I would go back to the Fade."
Olgierd extended his hand and muttered in the strange tongue under his breath. Between one blink and the next, Justice disappeared.
A sob escaped Anders, and he slapped his palm over his mouth, his other hand pressing hard against his chest. Hawke wrapped her arms around him from behind, murmuring to him softly, and Varric joined them to place his hand on Anders' elbow.
Ciri, Olgierd, and Fiona busied themselves with cleaning up the remains of both rituals while Hawke and Varric held Anders. Ciri opened the door to the ritual room, her arms full of candles, and nodded to Solas.
"It worked."
"Fascinating," Solas said. "I had my doubts, but I'm glad to be wrong. And Justice was returned safely to the Fade?"
"He was."
Solas smiled. "A happy ending."
Ciri wouldn't call Anders' state 'happy,' but it was the outcome they'd hoped for. "I suppose so."
"Then if I'm no longer needed, I should take my leave," Solas said. "You've done well, lethallin. Give Olgierd my congratulations on his success."
"Congratulate him yourself," she said. "Stay. You were part of this. You ought to see it through."
Perhaps it was impulsive, but she didn't want him withdrawing back to the rotunda or the workroom in solitude again. A part of her hoped that more ties to the present would help act as insurance against his plans. Another, larger part of her just wanted him to feel included. 'Harellan' or not.
"Very well," he said warmly. "I'm pleased to share in this victory."
She went to stow the candles away, soon joined by Fiona with the censer and incense and Olgierd with the chalk and the book.
"I won't ask where you learned your ritual," Fiona murmured to Olgierd as she tucked the censer back into its spot on the shelves. "It was successful, and it wasn't blood magic. Discretion seems to be the better choice here."
"My thanks," he said quietly.
"But if you ever need help with demons, you can turn to us," she told him. "You are a fellow mage, and we take care of our own."
"My demon troubles are in the past," he said. "Still, it's a kind offer."
Ciri looked up at the sound of Anders' raised voice, distressed and anxious, coming from through the open door. She exchanged a worried glance with Olgierd and returned to the chamber, her friend, Solas, and the grand enchanter right behind her.
"– Bodies," Anders said frantically, gripping Hawke's shoulders. "There were bodies in Lowtown. Hawke, why do I remember bodies?"
Hawke put her hands over Anders'. "What do you remember?"
"I don't – Meredith and Orsino were facing off when I arrived," he said. The words came from him slowly, as if they were being dragged from the recesses of his memory. "I said it was too late. The chantry exploded – I did that."
"We did that," Hawke said swiftly. "I helped you get the ingredients. I distracted Elthina."
"Shit, Hawke," Varric muttered as he threw a wary glance at Ciri. "I left that out of the book for a reason."
"That night…it's been fuzzy for years," Anders said. "Did I… Did I ask you to kill me?"
Hawke blinked hard, her eyes suspiciously shiny. "You did."
Anders' face twisted in misery. "Why didn't you?"
"I'd lost too much," Hawke whispered. "I wasn't about to lose you, too. And you were right. Something needed to be done in Kirkwall."
"How many people did I kill?" he asked her hoarsely.
"Anders –"
"How many?"
"Two hundred and thirty-eight," Varric said. "One hundred and sixty-two died immediately. Seventy-six died of injuries later."
Anders tore away from Hawke with a choked cry. He fell to his knees with his hands over his face, his shoulders shaking. Ciri stood frozen by the door as Hawke and Varric got down on the floor beside him.
"It's never easy with you, is it, Blondie?" Varric sighed. He rubbed Anders' back gently while Hawke tried to coax his hands from his face.
When Anders spoke again, his voice was muffled and thick with tears. "I told him. When we were in the Wardens. I just wanted to keep my head down and live my life. I didn't want to 'strike a blow against my oppressors.' Maker, what have I done?"
"You liberated Kirkwall's mages and lit the flame of the mage rebellion," Hawke told him. "Without you, Meredith would have annulled the Gallows."
Anders let out a wet, unhappy laugh. "Hawke. There are better ways to get your point across than mass casualties."
Hawke sat back, hurt and worry crossing her face.
Varric spoke up as he rubbed Anders' back. He kept his voice calm and nonjudgmental. "Not such a small price to pay after all, hm?"
"Fuck everything," Anders said bitterly. He dropped his hands and looked up at Ciri with red-rimmed eyes. "Inquisitor. I surrender myself into your custody."
"Anders, no!" Hawke cried as she shot to her feet. She unslung her staff from her back and glared at Ciri. "Inquisitor, don't you take a step toward him!"
Ciri held up a calming hand to Hawke and met Anders' eyes. Raúl and Rona's words from earlier came to her, and she pressed her lips together as she thought. Raúl's assumption that the possession had affected him seemed correct. Rona's thoughts on his competency might be, too. She had an obligation to find out the truth before revoking his amnesty and tossing him in the dungeon.
"What do you remember about the bombing?" she asked. "About the planning and the execution?"
"What does it matter?" Anders asked, shaking his head. "I did it. I killed all those people."
"Trust me," Ciri said. "It matters."
Anders rose unsteadily to his feet again. "I don't remember how the idea came to me. I do remember it was after another Mage Underground meeting. We'd smuggled a rape victim out, a seventeen-year-old boy. Ser Karras had a type," he spat. "We all agreed something needed to be done, but we couldn't decide on what. I went to sleep that night, and when I woke up, I just knew what I had to do."
He shot a shamefaced look at Varric and Hawke. "I had to keep it secret. I – I lied about what I was doing. I told them it was a recipe to separate myself from Justice."
Hawke started to speak up, and Varric shook his head at her sharply.
"Why a bomb, Anders?" Ciri asked gently. "Why did you think you had to lie?"
"I don't – it had to be a bomb," Anders said in bewilderment. "It had to be secret."
Ciri felt an odd, uncomfortable mix of pity and relief– pity at his former state, and relief that she wouldn't have to arrest Varric's friend. "Listen to yourself. You don't even understand your own reasons."
"What do the reasons matter when I'm the one who did it?" Anders shot back.
"They matter," Ciri said again. "Did you ever try to change your mind? To stop yourself?"
Anders looked down as he thought, then back up at Ciri, his eyes wide with startlement. "Yes. Once. I had the drakestone and the sela petrae, and I was about to start making the bomb. I remember being terrified – of the project, of the consequences, of myself. I gathered up the materials to throw them out, and then –" He shrugged uneasily. "There are more than a few blank spots in that month."
Hawke let her staff sag as she stared at Anders in dismay. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Justice already thought you were a distraction from the 'cause,'" Anders said. "If he thought I'd set you against him…"
Hawke cursed and turned away.
"Anders," Ciri said, and she waited for him to meet her eyes. "You don't know why you chose a bomb. You don't know why you kept it secret from your friends and Hawke. You tried to stop yourself. You weren't even aware of the consequences for years. You can't be held responsible for your actions. You quite literally weren't in your right mind."
"I should be punished for it," Anders insisted. "Prison, hard labor – death!"
"You are being punished." Olgierd finally spoke up from his place by the door. Ciri glanced at him and saw sympathy on his face. "You've innocent blood on your hands. You'll carry that knowledge for the rest of your life."
"How?" Anders asked him desperately. "How do I live with it?"
"One day at a time." Olgierd offered him a faint smile. "I don't recommend spending the next few years drinking your sorrows away in every run-down tavern you stumble over. You've friends, a paramour. Lean on them if they'll let you. Try to balance the scales by doing good."
Solas seemed thoughtful at Olgierd's words, and he nodded slowly.
Anders looked doubtful, but he turned his gaze to Hawke, who stared back fiercely.
"Always," she said, her knuckles white around her staff. "You can always count on me."
"Yeah," Varric said. "Me, too, Blondie."
Anders looked like he was about to start crying again for a moment as his eyes went bright and glossy. He blinked away the threatening tears and nodded back at them. "I'll try. And thanks – Olgierd, was it? For separating us. And for the advice."
Olgierd inclined his head in acknowledgment, and Anders turned to the scuffed-out summoning circle with a sigh.
"He didn't say goodbye," he said softly. "He saved my life, you know."
"I know." Hawke's voice was gentle. "Come on. Let's get back on the road. We have places to be, and we've taken up enough of the Inquisitor's and grand enchanter's time."
Anders covered himself with his shapeless cloak again and placed his staff across his back. As he began to follow Hawke toward the door, Varric stopped him with a hand on his arm and pulled him down into a tight hug.
"You dumb bastard," Varric muttered. "Ever try to throw yourself on your sword like that again and I'll kill you myself."
"Would you suggest boiling in oil?" Anders said with muted amusement. "Or is that still too prosaic?"
Varric laughed and let him go. "You take care out there. Both of you. And Anders, it'll be good getting to know you again."
Anders looked like that hadn't occurred to him yet. "I suppose…it will be good getting to know myself again, too."
Fiona led the way back down the stairs to the bottom level. Behind Ciri, Solas offered Olgierd his quiet congratulations, and just as quietly, Olgierd thanked him. As they neared the entryway, faint shouting could be heard from outside. Someone pounded on the door furiously. The mages down below looked wary and nervous, exchanging grim looks and fingering their staves.
"Is it happening again?" Ilana asked Fiona. "Have the Inquisition's Templars turned on us?"
Melora narrowed her eyes. "Let them try."
Ciri recognized the voices as they drew closer. Cassandra. And Cullen. And slightly less clearly, she could hear Rona and Raúl trying to calm them down.
"I know he's in there!" Cullen shouted. "Send him out!"
Anders drew in a deep breath. "Well, that's that."
Hawke grabbed his arm. "No. We can find another way out. We can fight."
He smiled sadly and rubbed his thumb over her high cheekbone. "I love you."
"Anders! I know you're in there!"
Hissing whispers broke out around them, and Melora grinned, wide and eager.
"If you'd stop with the dramatics," Ciri said tartly, "you might remember that I'm the Inquisitor, and I already pardoned you. And this is the mages' tower, not the Inquisition's. Grand Enchanter Fiona and I will handle this."
She crossed the room and threw open the door. Cullen almost fell through, his face white as milk with two red spots of rage on his cheeks. He clutched his naked sword in one trembling hand. Cassandra loomed behind him. At the rear, Raúl and Rona met her eyes, looking apologetic and upset.
"Cassandra got suspicious," Rona said in an undertone. "She saw you pass her from the training grounds and went to fetch the Commander."
"Where is Anders?" Cullen demanded.
Fiona pushed her way to the front of the group. "You dare demand that I hand a mage over to you? Any mage? When we all know how the Kirkwall Circle was run? Leave, Templar, and take your demands with you."
"Then give him to me," Cassandra said sternly. "The abomination must face justice."
"He did face Justice," Ciri told her. "And Justice left. Anders is no longer an abomination."
"Not possible," Cassandra declared.
In the same breath, Cullen spat, "Prove it."
Anders reached for his hood and pulled it down, and Cullen's scarred upper lip twisted in a snarl. "It's true," Anders said. "You can Silence me, or the grand enchanter can use magic on me. If I were still possessed, Justice would defend himself."
"I'll do it," Fiona interrupted before Cassandra or Cullen could speak. "There will be no Templar or Seeker spells cast in this tower."
She turned back to Anders, her face far kinder than when they'd been introduced. "Are you certain?" she asked him. "You're swaying on your feet."
"I'm certain."
"Very well."
Fiona thrust out her hand toward his chest, and a dense, crackling ball of white light splashed across his shirt front and sank through. He staggered back with a low cry of pain.
"You see?" Fiona said to Cullen. "I oversaw it myself. There is no spirit. Only the man remains."
"He still needs to pay for what he did," Cullen insisted. He braced himself against the doorframe.
Hawke laughed, low and scornful. "Oh, that's rich, coming from you. Have you paid even the slightest bit? Or did you just jump at the chance to join the Inquisition and pretend like you never had a hand in the Gallows' cruelties?"
"I trusted my knight-commander," Cullen shot back.
"How many rapes, Cullen?" Hawke demanded. "How many beatings? How many illegal rites of Tranquility?"
"I have those numbers," Cassandra said. Her fierce glower diminished some as she looked between Anders, Hawke, and Cullen. "Though they were well out of date by the time of the explosion. The Seekers found thirty instances of beatings, and nine instances of the illegal use of the rite of Tranquility on a Harrowed mage when we investigated Kirkwall five years prior. They turned up only isolated incidents of rape and were assured it had been dealt with. It was suspected that the true rate of rape and molestation was far higher, but the investigation couldn't prove anything."
"And why didn't you do anything to stop it?" Ciri asked her, appalled.
Cassandra looked regretful. "The Seekers found so many cases of blood magic and demon summoning in Kirkwall, it was decided that we shouldn't intervene in Knight-Commander Meredith's efforts to keep control. Clearly, that was a mistake."
"Clearly," Ciri agreed coldly.
"How many?" Hawke asked Cullen again.
Cullen looked at her for a long, silent moment. The anger drained from his face. "I don't know. More than that. Many more."
"How many mages did you –"
"Maker's breath, none!" Cullen exclaimed.
"You just kept your eyes shut to the atrocities your brothers and sisters were carrying out? While you were second-in-command?" Hawke asked skeptically.
"I failed in my duties," Cullen said. "I failed my charges by not protecting them. All I can do is try to be a better man. I'm sorry."
Varric studied his fingernails and said in a carefully offhand way, "You know, when Anders was separated from Justice and he realized what he'd done in Kirkwall, he tried to turn himself in to the Inquisitor. Begged for punishment."
The pointed words hit home, and Cullen sagged against the doorframe.
"Enough!" Ciri said sharply. "No one is being punished today. Anders and Hawke are leaving. They're free to go. I questioned Anders about the explosion myself, and I'm sure of his lack of culpability in the matter."
"Are you certain, Lady Ciri?" Cassandra asked her.
Ciri nodded to her. "I am."
"Then…then I will stand aside." Cassandra sighed heavily. "You have my trust and respect, my lady, and if you believe this is the right path, then I won't interfere."
Cullen made a small sound of protest.
Hawke strode up to the doorway and skewered him with a searing look of contempt. "Move."
"I'm not a Templar any longer, Hawke," Cullen said, his voice tired and empty of anger. He raised a shaking hand. "I don't even have lyrium in my blood."
"And I don't have a spirit in mine," Anders replied from over her shoulder. There was a ghost of humor in his words. He matched Cullen's shaking hand with one of his own. "What a pair we make, after all these years."
"You still killed people," Cullen said quietly.
"I did," Anders agreed. "So did you. Every subordinate you ignored who killed, raped, beat, or made a mage Tranquil – you share responsibility. You could have stopped Ser Alrik and Ser Karras."
Cullen winced and looked away. "And so we both go free," he murmured, so quiet Ciri could barely hear him.
"And so we both go free."
Cullen slowly stood aside as Anders pulled his hood up again. Hawke turned back to swoop down on Varric for a brief hug and grasp Olgierd's arm in silent gratitude. She nodded to Ciri, Fiona, and Solas, threaded her fingers through Anders', and the two of them left without another word.
At first, no one seemed willing to break the silence that they left in their wake. Then Raúl came forward and pulled Cullen's arm over his shoulders. "Come on, Commander. Let's get you back to bed."
"Go," Ciri told him when he seemed inclined to linger.
Raúl helped an unprotesting Cullen away from the tower, and Rona followed behind them. Cassandra gave her a short nod and left as well. The mages all seemed to collectively sigh in relief as the last of their unwanted visitors disappeared.
Ciri ignored the flurry of excited chatter that broke out behind her and looked down at Varric. Her friend stared out the open door and across the courtyard, his gaze tracking two tall, thin figures that grew smaller with each step they took.
"They'll be alright," she assured him.
"Ha. Those two?" he said fondly. "I don't think there's a damn thing in this world or the next that can take them down."
Ciri could see what he meant. As the two mages slowly disappeared in the distance, the evening light took their shadows and stretched them. And just for a moment, she was watching giants.
