Chapter Three
Witch's Spell
"Sticks and stones will break your bones
And leave you lying in the mud
But you get scared when we're alone
Like I might suck your blood
And I could tell you a witch's spell
But it might just blow your top."
—"Sticks and Stones," The Pierces
When the opportunity to leave Haven, however briefly, arose, Katerina leapt at it. She was eager to pack and ride out with Cassandra and her two new friends to somewhere far from the Commander's frown.
She'd been included in the Inquisition's talks as a formality and had quickly developed a headache at their circular arguments. Should they approach the mages or the templars for help? The mages could pour magic into the mark and power it enough to close the Breach—or they could bring about the end of the world. The templars could use their abilities to dampen the Breach, but that was purely hypothetical. How could they ask for help yet when they lacked support? Maybe the Chantry could assist—but how, given it was leaderless and filled with infighting? Another impossibility, especially since she'd been denounced as a heretic and blasphemer.
It was endless. The Commander frowned at her the entire time, certain she'd wish to side with the mages. He was right, but Katerina had no interest in confirming his suspicions. If she was going to have anyone standing behind her while she shot green energy at the Breach, she wanted it to be people who weren't liable to run her through immediately after.
But she was just the bearer of the mark, a tool to be used. A tool didn't need an opinion, and no one asked for it. She resolved herself to go where directed and close rifts. People needed help and, for the moment, she was the only one who could offer any. It was a task she gladly took on.
It had been a tiring, but rewarding, venture. The warring mages and templars had been cleared from the Hinterlands, as had some bandits seeking to take advantage of the chaos. Horse Master Dennet had agreed to come on board with his herds, as had Mother Giselle. She and some of her Chantry sisters rode behind on the more docile mares, talking quietly amongst themselves.
She had been unhappy to learn the Commander would join their party in the Hinterlands, though his time had been spent overseeing the recruits, securing the countryside and the farm, and joining scouting parties. Her shoulder blades itched the entire journey there and back from the constant awareness of his gaze. Thankfully, she'd seen little of him after those first days in the Hinterlands but the trek back had been trying.
Despite her personal discomfort, Katerina thought they'd taken encouraging first steps. They'd secured horses and resources, agents, and even managed to sway a few hearts simply by feeding people and offering kind words. Even Varric and Cassandra were too satisfied to bicker. Instead, Varric was weaving some grand yarn about a bone yard dragon and a merry band of drunken dwarves that got even Solas to chuckle along with the foot soldiers and stableboys listening in. Cassandra was engrossed in conversation with Scout Harding and the Commander, leaving Katerina alone with her thoughts.
'What will mama and papa say about all this?' she couldn't help wondering.
Aidan, her brother, would have been delighted with the adventure. The young man had always adored tales of magic and mystery. It's what led him to join the Templar Order. Her three youngest sisters would almost assuredly be horrified by the amount of filth involved in running about the countryside, let alone the muck of fighting demons. Helena, her eldest sister and the only one wed, would surely box her ears for not writing home sooner. Katerina silently promised to send her a letter after they got back and debriefed. But it was her parents and eldest brother whose reactions Katerina feared. Their reactions, and the almost certain backlash, froze her hand every time she tried to write.
Her mother would surely disapprove—Lady Maura Trevelyan was the very definition tight-laced and proper. The woman lived and breathed politics and was a staunch believer in "the proper order of things." Her life's mission was finding her daughters appropriate husbands to elevate their status and strengthen trade in Ostwick. When Rina had first shown signs of magic, her mother had despaired, locking herself in her rooms for days. She could still remember the wailing.
"A mage!" Maura had bemoaned, face red and puffy from crying. "No man will want her—how could he? A woman who plays with fire will never be a wife!"
She'd tried consoling her mother as best she could, and Helena had joined the efforts. When she'd brought her mother a handful of flowers as an apology, they'd been dashed to the floor.
"You'd be better off a Tranquil," her mother wept. "At least then there'd be no need to fear you."
Helena had gently pulled her from the room then as the young girl's eyes filled with tears. Katerina hadn't understood then what it meant to be Tranquil, all she knew was that she scared her mama. It had broken her young heart.
Her father, Callum, might approve in his own gruff way. He'd begun teaching her to defend herself that same day. He was a quiet man, guarded. Fighting against the Blight did that to a person. But he loved her in a quiet way. He'd sawed off a broomstick handle and thrust it into her chubby little hands, showing her basic staff positions. He set aside a few hours every day after that to teach her. If she was going to be taken away from the safety of their house, he would be certain his daughter could fend for herself.
The Ostwick Circle had taken her in and, thanks to her family's status, granted her regular visits home. She'd trained and studied under Enchanter Lydia, proving herself a quick study. On her visits home, Maura and the three youngest girls would ignore her, and Callum would take her out to the training yard to spar and eventually gifted her a shining dagger that he also schooled her in using. It had been her routine for years. Her brothers, Aidan and Geoffrey, would often join in while her sisters entertained suitors and embroidered handkerchiefs.
When the Circle fell, her first thought had been to rush home and seek solace from her family. Some instinct drove her away though—Aidan had joined the Templar Order after her Harrowing, and her mother would almost certainly decry her mage daughter as a threat. Her mother's voice had echoed cruelly in her ears then: 'You'd be better off a Tranquil.' The rest didn't deserve the castigation that would come from harboring a mage. Her heart had been heavy, and her stomach filled with lead when Katerina made the decision to keep moving.
No, she wasn't ready to write home. But her father and sister, at least, deserved to know she wasn't dead. Katerina resolved to let them know despite her fears.
They rode around the final bend then, and Haven loomed close as she came to that decision. It breathed a new life into their party and even the horses sensed their excitement. Haven meant warm beds instead of sleeping on the cold ground, baths, and roofs over everyone's head. The roof may be a tent for some, but it was still better than sleeping under the stars in the chilly mountain air.
Cassandra pulled even with the mage as they neared the stables and the connected smithy. "Threnn will see to everyone; you should get cleaned up and meet us in the war room."
"Alright, I suppose I should hear where I'm being sent next." Katerina rolled her shoulders and tried not to sound ungrateful. A part of her had thought the Inquisition would simply debate amongst themselves while she napped and send her on the next mission when she awoke.
"You have some say in that as well," Cassandra said, brow furrowing as she studied the younger woman. "It is you the Chantry is denouncing, you who must face danger every time a rift appears. You are not just a tool to be used—the risk is too great for us to simply point and expect you to jump."
"You mean—I… thank you." The mage blinked owlishly at her, surprised and touched by the Seeker's words. It was unexpectedly kind of her. "I must admit I'm surprised."
"Yes, I can tell," was the wry response.
"Do the rest of the Inquisition's leaders share your sentiments?" she asked carefully, wary of overstepping where she wasn't welcome. She snuck a peak at the stern general then, hoping he wasn't near enough to overhear.
A few stable hands rushed forward to take the horses reins while the party dismounted, stalling the Seeker's reply. She would not dare divulge any personal insights where anyone could hear. Once the women had dismounted and waved off the rest of their companions, they made their way to the Herald's cabin.
"Leliana is happy to watch and wait for you to come to that realization on your own, and Josephine is prepared to needle you into sharing your opinions." Cassandra paused then, sneaking a sidelong glance at the Herald. "Cullen, on the other hand, will lead until he is led. He is content to follow orders, however much he may protest them at first, but he will not abide a power struggle or in-fighting."
"I see," the mage demurred. Her cabin drew closer and with it the siren song of bath and clean clothes. Her skin ached to wash away the dust and mud of the road.
"You dislike the Commander." The Seeker's words were blunt and matter-of-fact. "You practically bristled every time he spoke these last weeks."
"No, I simply do not know him." 'And have little interest in doing so,' she added silently.
"It is alright, there is a natural tension there. You are a Circle mage, he is an ex-templar." Cassandra eyed the mage again, her amber gaze giving no quarter and accepting no excuses. "But you must remember that the Inquisition needs to present a united front. Any hint of disfunction will only further weaken us. We cannot afford such a blow."
She knew that, she did. It was why she'd taken pains to avoid the Commander before leaving for the Hinterlands. The last thing she wanted was another confrontation like the one by the training field. The Inquisition couldn't risk whispers of discord between their so-called "Herald of Andraste" and commander of their forces. It also kept that prickle at the back of her neck and painful awareness of his watchful eyes at bay. Katerina couldn't stand the sensation of being watched like that. The way the people looked at her was one thing and easy enough to ignore; the Commander was something else altogether. Her guard was always up whenever he was near. She could close her eyes and still know exactly where he stood should they be in the same place at once. It was exhausting to be so constantly alert.
She didn't say any of that though, choosing instead to choke down her distaste for the templar and nod. "Understood."
With an answering bob of her head, the Seeker left her at the cabin door with a reminder to join her shortly. The door closed behind the mage, and she was blessedly alone. She bathed and washed her hair as quickly as she could. Her nose wrinkled at the dingy water as she toweled off and dried her hair with a warm burst of magic. It was a wonder there was any earth left in the Hinterlands from the looks of the tub.
Within minutes, she found herself coming upon the Chantry where raised voices and even higher tempers flared. A crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle. Mutters flew amongst the onlookers as a mage and a templar screamed at one another, heedless of their audience.
"Your kind killed the Most Holy!" the templar shouted.
She began shouldering her way through the crowd, hoping to break up the argument before it got any uglier. The last thing they needed was a brawl—or all out slaughter—on the Inquisition's doorstep. No one seemed to notice her need to get through.
'Maker's breath, of all the times for anonymity,' she groused, trying to force her slender frame through the sea of onlookers. She'd finally made some headway while the yelling continued, only for someone to beat her there.
"Knight-Captain!" one of the men gasped.
"That is not my title," the Commander's familiar voice boomed. "We are not templars any longer. We are all part of the Inquisition!"
Even Katerina felt chastened at his words. This whole time she'd been thinking of him as just another templar. In her mind, it had been that simple. And yet here he was defending a mage from the wrath of his brethren. Cassandra had warned her against that mentality, reminding her of the need to set aside their differences now more than ever before. It seemed the Commander was ahead of her on that front.
Another unwelcome voice rang out over the crowd, reedy and nasal in its challenge. "And what does that mean, exactly?"
"Back already, Chancellor?" She could hear the exasperation in the Commander's tone. "Haven't you done enough?"
"I'm curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its 'Herald' will restore order as you've promised." Roderick's insinuation was clear, spurring a fresh wave of whispers and questions.
"Of course you are," the Commander sneered, onto the Chancellor's game as well. "Back to your duties, all of you."
The crowd disbanded then, talking as they went. A few surprised townspeople nearly bumped into Katerina, bobbing their heads in apology. She breathed a little easier as she strode forward to stand beside the warrior who was deep in debate with the Chancellor. It rocked her to see an ex-templar so freely defying a Chantry brother. The Order was sworn to the Chantry, acting as a deterrent against mage action and hammer to stamp out unrest whenever dissent cropped up. Maybe he truly had left that life behind.
"—proper authority to guide them back to order!" the Chancellor argued, spittle flying as he gesticulated wildly.
"Who, you?" Cullen asked derisively. He nodded as the mage wordlessly came to stand by his side. Awareness shot through him at her nearness, tingling and raising goosebumps along his arms. "Random clerics who weren't important enough to be at the Conclave?"
Katerina had to choke back a laugh at that. His snide defiance was wholly unexpected. It was refreshing to hear someone giving the Chancellor as good as he gave—and someone with the authority to boot.
"The rebel Inquisition and its so-called 'Herald of Andraste?' I think not," Roderick spat back.
She couldn't stay quiet anymore and heard herself speaking before fully processing that choice. "So far, you're the only one insisting that we can't work together."
"We might if your Inquisition would recognize the Chantry's authority."
She rolled her eyes at that. It was the same argument she'd heard in the war room before leaving. How could anyone place their fate in the hands of an organization so divided? The threat loomed above them, real and bright and endlessly swirling. Waiting on a vote to come down would do no good—they needed leadership and needed it now.
"There is no authority until another Divine is chosen," Cullen explained wearily. He echoed her thoughts in that moment, the need for action not lost on him in the slightest.
"In due time," the Chancellor snipped. "Andraste will be our guide, not some dazed wanderer on the mountainside."
"Cullen, remind me why you're allowing the Chancellor to stay?" Katerina scowled at that and crossed her arms defensively. He dared throw the mark's drain on her life back at her as if it had been nothing? Biting back a cruel retort, she shot a look at the soldier by her side.
"He's toothless." He turned to her then and set a hand between her shoulders to guide her away. The move cut the Chancellor off from blowing more hot air as they turned towards the Chantry with no further ceremony. Cullen shortened his stride to keep pace with the shorter woman beside him. "There's no point turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth. He is a good indicator of what to expect in Val Royeaux, however."
"Well, let's hope to find a solution and not a cathedral full of chancellors," Katerina said, shifting a little further away from him. Hot needles of awareness pierced her skin where his hand had rested, and she rolled her shoulders to dispel the sensation.
"The stuff of nightmares," he joked with a tiny smile.
Katerina found herself returning the smile before she could stop herself. There was something charming about this side of him. It was difficult to reconcile it with his previous hostility towards her, with his easy decision to kill her if need by. That was something she'd never understood about the templars in the Circle: How could they be jovial towards their wards and still prepared to kill them should even a whisper of a threat arise? How could they smile at the mages so easily and still run a sword through the Tranquil as they slept?
She threw her walls back up and wiped the smile away then. Cullen saw it happen, saw when her face shuttered and erased all expression. It happened in the space of a heartbeat. He couldn't claim ignorance of the reason for her wariness; he'd seen firsthand what happened in Kirkwall. The world was at war over it. It was the same reason he and his men kept tabs on every mage in Haven. That didn't make it sting any less though. He'd seen her easy smiles and quick jokes firsthand, and the way that evaporated when she caught sight of him.
Leliana and Josephine had rounded on him about his frosty relationship with the Herald the moment they'd decided who was traveling to the Hinterlands. The two women were forceful in their insistence he take strides to ease the palpable tension between them. They demanded he set aside the templar and step into the role of a commander for all, mages included. Leliana had even cuffed him about the ear for good measure. That lecture was fresh in his mind as he escorted the marked mage away from the Chancellor's vitriol, though it seemed they had a long way to go yet.
With an understanding nod, he stepped back from her and led the way into the war room. The moment was over.
The pair who'd remained in Haven quickly brought the others up to speed. More recruits trickled in by the day, drawn by the reports that Katerina could close the rifts. The town was full nearly to bursting and newcomers had begun setting up tents and firepits further out in the valley. It was a promising start, but not enough. The Inquisition needed more support, access to merchants and goods, influence to sway the nobility.
"Having the Herald address the clerics is not a terrible idea," Josephine pointed out as the topic turned to Val Royeaux.
"You can't be serious," Cullen sputtered, glancing up in alarm from the stack of reports he'd been flipping through.
"Mother Giselle isn't wrong," Josephine said, her lilting voice and confidence putting an end to his shock. "The Chantry's only strength is that they are united in opinion."
"And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?" Leliana shook her head in disagreement. She'd been arguing against going to the Chantry from the beginning, disillusioned with the hollow cries for unity from the brothers and sisters since the Divine's death.
Katerina shrugged then, utterly ambivalent about addressing an organization she'd never placed much stock in. "I'm more concerned this won't actually solve anything."
"I agree," the Commander said, giving his full-throated agreement against this exercise in futility. "It just lends credence to the notion that we should care what the Chantry says."
"It's not the Chantry you must convince," Josephine bandied back, her quill spinning between her fingers. "You must speak to those listening to the Chantry—templars, merchants, the undecided and disillusioned nobility. Those are the people we must reach."
The smack of gloved hands striking thick wood echoed about the room. All eyes flew to the Seeker. "We must reach a wider audience. I will go with you," she said fiercely. "Mother Giselle said she could give us names? Use them."
"But why?" the spymaster questioned. "This is nothing but a—"
"What choice do we have, Leliana?" Cassandra exploded. "We are desperate. Right now, we can't approach anyone for help with the Breach. Do what you must to call the clerics together. Once they are ready, we will see this through."
The order was clear, and Katerina was loath to defy her. Even Cullen seemed cowed by the Seeker's dark scowl. It didn't hurt that she was right, they were desperate. If something didn't change, the Inquisition would be over before it began. The meeting soon came to an end, with the diplomat and spymaster leaving to gather names and send a flurry of ravens. Katerina left on her own with a sheaf of reports and intelligence to peruse while the two fighters hung back to discuss their progress in the Hinterlands.
The dense reading kept her up late into the night, but one thing was clear: they were running on fumes, and it was up to her to change that.
Haven was growing fuller by the day. Merchants hawked their wares in the camps and wagons of goods rolled in and out regularly, carrying news of the world to the Inquisition and vice versa. Katerina had even picked up two new companions during her journey to Val Royeaux, and both carried their own distinctive flair. Sera, the elven archer, was tending her mount and mumbling under her breath, while Vivienne, the First Enchanter, was set to join them later. The sleepy mountain village had become a veritable hive of activity and commerce.
Katerina practically hummed with excitement as she dismounted by the stables. In addition to the newest recruits, they'd secured an invitation from Grand Enchanter Fiona to parlay with the mages in Redcliffe. It certainly lightened her step. Daffodil, the trusty Free Marches Ranger she'd taken an instant liking to, knocked her shoulder affectionately, and the mage couldn't help but laugh. Digging around in her pack, she found an apple and happily offered it to the palomino mare. She'd done good work, riding calmly and only testing her rider a few times. Dennet had been right; this horse was a good fit for a Free Marcher.
A stable hand took Daffodil's reins with a smile, and Katerina was certain to leave him with a smile and kind word, when someone tapped her shoulder.
"Come, we must speak with the others," Cassandra said, marching off with no other preamble. She clearly expected the mage to follow.
The Seeker's long stride carried her swiftly through the gates, leaving the other woman to run to catch up. She did so on the Chantry steps and walked in beside Cassandra. The warrior practically vibrated with tension as she marched forward, brow furrowed and lips tight.
The urgency of their situation was underscored by Josephine joining them on the way to the war room. The diplomat was all aflutter as she passed a final missive off to a clerk before turning to the two road-weary women. Behind them, the Chantry doors opened to admit the other two advisors.
"It's good you've returned," the Antivan started. "We heard of your encounter."
"You heard?" Cassandra asked, shocked that the gossip had already spread ahead of them.
"My agents in the city sent word ahead, of course," Leliana said, easily waving the Seeker's concern away with her breezy tone.
Cullen shook his head, scrubbing a hand over his face as the group made for the war room. "It's a shame the templars abandoned their senses as well as the capitol."
"At least we know how to approach the mages and templars now," Katerina supplied, searching for any positives to have come from their time in Val Royeaux.
"Yes," Josephine concurred, fluttering the feather tip of her quill at the Herald. "Now we have the opening we need."
"Do we?" Cassandra questioned, her shoulders tight and face lined with weariness. "Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember."
They pushed into the war room then, securing the doors behind them, and Leliana turned to the mage. Her expression was innocent as she asked, "Herald, can you seal the room against eavesdroppers?"
"Of course." Katerina ignored the commander's flinch and set about warding the perimeter of the room, muttering an incantation she'd often used at the Circle. Memories of giggling with her friend, Sienna, as they flushed and tittered over the templars and male mages, warmed her. She couldn't hide the sad grin those memories elicited.
"I'm not certain everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker," the Commander was saying when she finished the ward. He fought to suppress a shiver as the magic rushed over him, a sensation not unlike chewing a mint leaf. It… wasn't unpleasant, he realized.
"Or the Herald could simply go to meet the mages in Redcliffe," Josephine suggested, dipping her head at the mage's wide eyes.
She couldn't believe someone supported going to the mages. Katerina had been mentally preparing herself for that uphill battle since receiving the invitation from the Grand Enchanter, and here Josephine offered her support freely. Her stomach flipped with excitement. It had been too long since she'd felt the comfort that came from being surrounded by other mages, people who trained and inherently understood her in a way most others couldn't.
"You think the mage rebellion is more united than the Order? It could be ten times worse!" Apparently the Commander shared her surprise, though it was unwelcome to him. The room fell tensely quiet as he rounded on Josephine.
Before he could get on a roll attacking the mages, Katerina decided to interject and keep the meeting on track. "You need to stop bickering amongst yourselves and make a decision."
"I agree," Cassandra said, forcing the military commander to grumble and drop the argument.
Josephine had no such qualms as she jotted something down on her portable writing table. "We shouldn't discount Redcliffe. The mages may be worth the risk—Maker knows Lady Trevelyan was."
"We got lucky with the Herald," Cullen argued, eagerly rising to the fight once more. "It's unlikely we will get so lucky a second time."
"They are powerful, Ambassador, but more desperate than you realize," Cassandra said, throwing her vote in for the templars.
It was no surprise, but Katerina could help the disappointed pang of her heart. That was two votes in favor of the templars and one for the mages. She knew the mages, knew what they wanted and how to talk to them. Fiona had issued her invitation to talk willingly while Lord Seeker Lucius had sneered and bandied insults.
Raising her chin stubbornly, she said as much. "If one party is willing to at least hear us out, shouldn't we approach them first? I don't know the Grand Enchanter, but my mentor considered her a dear friend. Enchanter Lydia always told me that the Grand Enchanter was a reasonable woman."
"But the mages are dangerous." Cassandra shook her head in the negative, scowling at the younger woman.
"So what?" Katerina said with a glib shrug. "I've been in danger since I walked out of the Fade."
"But if some among them were responsible for what happened at the Conclave—" the Seeker started. Cullen nodded in agreement beside her, both he and Cassandra staring at the mage determinedly. They would not be swayed.
"The same could be said of the templars," Josephine pointed out.
"True enough." Even Cullen had to cede to her logic, though it still came with a heavy sigh. "Right now, I'm not sure we have enough influence to approach either of them safely. We need more agents in more places—something you can help with."
He nodded at the Herald—unable to stop thinking of her that way, despite her protestations to the title. She carried it well, even if she chafed at it privately, likely due to her noble upbringing. He remembered the ambassador mentioning that her father was the Teyrn of Ostwick, though it was difficult to reconcile the dusty, battle-ready woman before him with the prim and proper nobility he was used to. He'd seen her on the training grounds before, whirling her staff and concealed dagger with ease, noted the way she rode astride and the purposeful acknowledgment of even the lowest about her. None of it pointed to her high birth.
"If you want templars so badly," Katerina started, "I may have a contact who can help."
"What? Why did you not say something earlier?" Cassandra exclaimed, nearly leaping over the table in her excitement.
"I don't know if this will work." The Herald held a hand up to still the Seeker, face lined with trepidation. "My brother joined the Order right after I passed my Harrowing ten years ago. We… my family and I are not on the best terms, and I don't know where Aidan was stationed. I last heard of his whereabouts two years ago."
Josephine shared a long look with Leliana, quill poised as she nodded. "We can use our contacts to find him."
The redheaded advisor frowned down at the map, jaw tight as her mind whirled. "If we find him, we'll ask that he gather any doubters or templars who wish to find the Divine's killer. Those who are curious about the Inquisition and want to seal the Breach."
"Will that be enough?" Cassandra wondered, face dark as she recalled the Lord Seeker's words.
"A templar knows his brethren better than anyone else," Cullen replied. He casually rested a hand on the hilt of his sword, either unaware or uncaring of the sharp spike of adrenaline the movement caused the lone mage. "He'll know who he can safely approach."
"If this works, I want to approach the mages." She couldn't bite the words back any longer, eyes trained firmly on the ex-templar's sword. The two warriors both opened their mouths to argue, scowls deepening as they realized the price of her information. Katerina threw her hands up to stop them before they could start. "Just to talk. She approached us willingly—we should hear her out before making any decisions."
"That sounds fair," the ambassador said, warily watching her sword-wielding peers. She rocked back on her heels, the only indication of her apprehension over their reactions.
Cullen huffed mightily, nostrils flaring before he forced his hand away from his weapon. But it was Cassandra who answered with a single, tight nod. "Fine."
"Where did you last hear of him?" the spymaster asked as if nothing had just transpired.
"Montsimmard. He was stationed at the Circle." Katerina absently rubbed at her left hand, frowning down at the map of Orlais as Leliana placed a marker over the fallen Circle. "If you find him—if he's alive—tell him, 'Rina set the fennecs loose.' He'll know it's real."
"Fennecs?" Josephine asked, pausing in her quick scribbling. "What did you do with fennecs?"
"I saved them from a hunt," she answered with a shrug, fingers still rubbing and tracing the quiet mark. "My mother had arranged it to find me a patron at Orleisan court, and I'd heard the men in consideration were terrible shots. Naturally, I set the poor creatures loose."
"Naturally," Cullen echoed, fighting to hide a grin at the mental image of a swarm of fennecs running loose through some elegant Ostwick courtyard.
Katerina shrugged again, shoving her hands into her coat pockets to avoid fidgeting any more. "It served its purpose; they ran off into the woods around the lodge, hale and whole, and I went back to the Circle without a married man foisted upon me. I consider it a win."
That stilled him—none of the women at the table seemed surprised by that revelation. He must have missed some subtext. But forcing a child to become someone's mistress? Doing it for position and connection? Cullen shook his head at that. The nobility would never make sense.
"We will do what we can to find your brother," Josephine said, punctuating the promise with a decisive jab of her quill. Nodding and scanning her notes, she made for the door. "If that is all…"
"There is one other matter," Leliana said, recalling her compatriots to the table when they made to leave. "Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished. I sent word to those in Orlais, but they have also disappeared. Ordinarily I wouldn't even entertain the notion of their involvement in all this, but the timing is… curious."
"That does sound odd," Katerina agreed, frowning at this newest revelation.
"This is why I asked you ward the room. No one outside these walls knows of this." The redheaded advisor tapped a quiet beat on the old table as she looked at her peers.
"It's a coincidence," Cullen said with a shrug. He readjusted his own sheaf of papers and reports as he shifted from foot to foot. "The Wardens have always lived reclusively, traveling alone and recruiting. They'll turn up."
"I cannot ignore this," Leliana barreled on, undeterred by their lack of concern. Her gaze never strayed from the Herald, steady and cold. She was utterly certain of this, every instinct screaming at her to investigate the Wardens' disappearance—and the Champion of Kirkwall's, by extension. "Two days ago, my agents in the Hinterlands heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. Seek him out on your way to Redcliffe. Perhaps he can put my mind at ease."
Katerina nodded in agreement, adding it to her running list of to-dos. "What if he can't ease your worries?"
"Then there may be more going on than we thought." She opened the door then and stalked out, leaving the others to filter out as they pleased.
The silvery wards flared and vanished as the door swung open, raising a wave of goosebumps on Cullen's skin as the spellwork flickered away. He stole a glance at the sole mage amongst them as he suppressed a shiver at the unfamiliar icy burn of her magic. She circled the war table, her downturned mouth and tight eyes the only indication of consternation on her otherwise smooth face. He watched one finger reach out to touch the marker over Montsimmard.
His stomach twisted as he watched her. Never in his wildest dreams had Cullen imagined trusting a mage with the fate of the world.
Cassandra cleared her throat then and he realized he was staring. The Commander straightened and pretended to ignore her knowing gaze, instead brushing past her to return to his desk by the training field.
It was natural to be wary of mages, he reasoned as he walked. It was a wariness borne of years in the Circles, overseeing Harrowings, conducting Rites of Tranquility. A wariness borne of personal experience. The Seeker knew of his aversion to magic, knew why he hated it so. Anyone would if they'd been tortured by abominations the way he'd been. The thick stone walls felt too close then—his lungs were tight, hungry for air that he labored to catch.
He had to get outside and away from the reminder of magic.
Katerina returned to Haven a month later, heavy with rain, mud, and consternation. She and Solas had not stopped discussing the temporal anomalies in Redcliffe, and Iron Bull couldn't stop talking about the dragon they'd encountered on the way to the keep. It was like running in circles as they wondered, theorized, debated, and otherwise exhausted themselves trying to puzzle out what they'd seen and heard. Between the too-convenient timing of Tevinter's appearance and enslavement of the mages, Fiona's lack of memory about her invitation to the Inquisition, and the plotting by the magister's son and former apprentice, Katerina didn't know what to think.
Her head throbbed as snow fell, mingling with the freezing mud weighing her down. It hadn't stopped raining the entire journey back to Haven, and tempers were short. She quickly disentangled herself from the endlessly bickering Seeker and dwarf, choosing instead to slip to her cabin and seek a hot bath. One of them would have to see to the Grey Warden and mercenary band they'd recruited on the Storm Coast. Katerina simply was not up to the task.
She hadn't even made it past Seggrit's market stall before getting waylaid, this time by the Commander. He was approaching from the trebuchets, a harried looking aide trotting to keep up with his long stride, when he saw the road-worn mage.
"Herald," Cullen barked, stopping before her. He noted the dark circles under her eyes, the pallor of her usually rosy skin, and felt himself soften. Even her curls looked deflated. "Are you alright?"
Katerina shifted under his gaze, uncomfortable at how he seemed to see everything. "Yes, it was just a… trying few weeks."
"It looks like you were productive." He glanced at the newcomers trickling into the village, most of them heading for the tavern to drink away the journey, and did a doubletake at the mercenary leader. It had been years since he'd encountered a Qunari. "Is that…?"
"Iron Bull, mercenary and Ben-Hassrath," she finished for him, brushing icy flakes from her brows. "He's going to work with Leliana on what he reports back to the Qun—nothing sensitive, just enough to stop an invasion. I like him."
"Of course you do," Cullen heard himself saying with a hint of a smile. He didn't know where that had come from—but he did know he was past due in updating her on their progress. "While you were away, we received a number of recruits—locals and pilgrims, both. None made quite the entrance you did."
"That wasn't my idea." Katerina blinked owlishly up at him. Since when did he speak to her more than was required?
"I'd be concerned if it was." He shot her a sidelong glance and began walking back to the training field. "I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall; I was there during the mage uprising—I saw firsthand the devastation it caused."
"Thus, your extreme dislike for mages," she supplied, shrugging when he looked at her in surprised. "Let's at least be honest about it. I'm no fonder of templars than you are of mages; I saw their brutality firsthand in Ostwick."
He held his tent flap open for her and walked around to settle at his makeshift desk, skirting the little cot shoved against an oiled canvas wall, as the silence dragged on between them. It was piled high with reports and headcounts, intelligence and supply ledgers, and correspondence from contacts. But none of that held his interest right now. Now, he was focused on the woman before him—taking her in, weighing and evaluating. He hadn't realized the fall of her Circle was a bloody one. Despite its connection to the Free Marcher port city, it was isolated on its own little island, barricaded and closely guarded. Templar reports indicated that it had fallen after a student killed the Enchanter in charge, but precious little else had been supplied.
She nestled primly on the edge of the seat opposite him, legs crossed at the ankles and hands folded demurely in her lap. Her noble breeding was clear in her posture and the polite mask she wore to cover the obvious exhaustion—nothing to hint at the horrors she must have seen in her last hours at the Circle. A shiver wracked her then, shaking her lithe frame, and Cullen realized the brazier in the corner had burned out.
"I'm sorry—here, let me…" He fumbled with flint to light the thing, his fingers feeling too thick and clumsy.
"Commander." Katerina's voice was gentle but firm, and his eyes flew to meet hers. She wiggled her fingers, gloves folded on the edge of the table he used for work. "May I?"
Magic. She wanted to use magic. Cullen swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded tightly. The dark-haired woman stood and moved nearer to him, politely pretending not to notice the way his eyes narrowed at her. She extended those pale hands out and… lifted the flint and steel delicately from his trembling fingers.
Some aside Varric had made echoed in her head as she lit it without magic. Something about the Commander being more terrified of magic than a cat was of water. She was keenly aware of his tension, and really had no wish to risk upsetting the ex-templar. That in mind, Katerina made quick work of lighting the little fire and stoking it to a healthy flame before returning to her seat.
"Thank you," he said simply.
"We both have a thousand reasons to distrust one another," she started, squaring her shoulders as she forced herself to meet his gaze evenly. "Our training practically bred that distrust—you could kill me at the first whiff of something gone wrong, while I could be possessed tomorrow and raze Haven to the ground."
He nodded, grateful that she didn't mince words or dance around the issue. "It seems we also have some bad blood with one another's brethren."
"Yes, though there's no need to go into detail." Katerina shuddered at the thought of tearing that wound open for him to examine with those cool, dark eyes. "But this is bigger than us. We must try to move beyond that—for the Inquisition's sake."
"I agree." His voice was soft and velvety as he spoke, seeing her as a woman and not just a mage for the first time. "When Cassandra recruited me, I left the Order to join her cause and help find a solution to the war. We now face a common enemy and must set our differences aside."
"You left the templars for this." Her eyes widened at that. She hadn't realized he'd abandoned the templars to find a resolution to the war—something that would require he work and cooperate with mages. "You believe the Inquisition can work? Even against something worse than a rebellion?"
"I do." The quiet faith in his voice, the firm belief in their cause in the determined set of his jaw—it surprised her. "The Chantry lost control and argue over a new Divine while the Breach remains and the mystery of its creation looms. The Inquisition can act when the Chantry cannot. There's so much we can—Forgive me, you didn't come here for a lecture."
"No, but I like your passion," she breathed, caught up in the way his eyes seemed to glow and how animated he was with purpose. Her face heated to her hairline and Rina buried her face in her hands when she realized what she'd said. "I'm sorry, that wasn't—I didn't… Andraste's ass! Ignore me."
"I, ah…" Had she just complimented him? He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck as the usually composed mage fumbled before him. Whatever it was, she clearly regretted it—but did she have to be so earnest in her bumbling? Cullen would just have to convince himself that it wasn't disappointment tightening in his chest at her apology. "There's still a lot of hard work ahead."
"Commander, I must confess that I still think going to the m—"
"Ser!" A soldier burst through the tent flap then, stopping in his tracks when he saw the Herald sitting in the tent with the military leader. His jaw hung slack at the unexpected sight of her and he stammered out a greeting. "H-herald! Maker's bre—hello!"
"Hello," she replied with a smile.
"As I was saying," Cullen joked wearily, snagging the report from the soldier's hands.
"I'll leave you to it, Commander." Katerina stood in one fluid motion as the Commander skimmed the papers, seemingly forgetting she was there.
She'd already skirted the awestruck young man and dipped out of sight when Cullen dared look up again. The Herald—'Katerina,' his traitorous mind whispered, savoring the sound of her name—had commented on the passion fueling his work. It wasn't the sort of slip he made knowingly, not after Kinloch Hold, but he'd made it in front of her. She'd seen it and, what's more, she'd liked it.
With a quiet sigh, Cullen knew he'd have his work cut out for him in unwinding that impossible knot.
Cleaned up and rested, Katerina joined the others in the war room to debrief on the meeting with Fiona and Alexius. Silvery wards glinted in the waning sunlight, invisible but for those last rays dancing with dust motes and magic. She spared no detail about the meeting in Redcliffe, including the magister's bid to entrap her and their unlikely allies against him. She'd even told them about Linnea, her embittered former peer, secure in the privacy of this room. She didn't expect much more than another drawn out argument, and the others delivered. It felt like it had been waning on for hours—debating the likelihood of a trap, how to take the castle, and calling for her to seek aid from the templars instead.
Josephine scanned through a letter for what must have been the hundredth time, breaking through the debate to confirm the trap. It was nothing they didn't already know—the message from the magister's son and former apprentice all but confirmed it.
She pushed back her wild curls and, instead of venting her frustration, teased, "How sweet of him to ask after me. What does Alexius say?"
"He's so complimentary that we are certain he wants to kill you," the spymaster answered smoothly. She shot a cold glance at Cullen before adding, "And yet some of us want to do nothing."
"Not this again," Josephine groaned. Her head dropped dramatically into her open hand, the little smack it made nearly comical in the tense air of the war room.
"Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults. If you go in there, you'll die. I won't allow it." Cullen's words hung heavy in the air as he implored the young mage to listen before realizing what he'd just said. "Losing our only means of closing these rifts is unthinkable."
He rushed to finish, to hide that slip of the tongue. It was something buried deep inside of him that ached at the thought of losing her, something he would only allow himself to dwell upon in the darkest, quietest parts of the night before leaving the warmth of his bed to prowl about the camp and scour through the endless mountain of reports. He only hoped none of the women around him heard that little, hidden part of himself speaking then.
Even if they did notice, the four women had the good graces not to comment or draw attention to his momentary slip. He was married to his work, Cullen reminded himself. The work was all he needed, all he wanted—to want was a dangerous thing. It was a risk he could not allow himself.
"—our hands are tied," the ambassador was saying, shaking her head ruefully. The last thing they needed was to start a war between Ferelden and Orlais in addition to the civil war and rebellion rocking the two countries.
"The magister—" Cassandra argued, looking ready to breathe fire.
"Has outplayed us," he said. That was that—the templars were their only option.
Katerina shook her head, meeting his gaze boldly over the table. As she moved the fading sunlight hit her face differently, highlighting her stubborn chin and the full curve of her cheek. "The magister's son, Felix, told me Alexius is in a cult that's obsessed with me. I highly doubt they'll graciously receive our apologies and go on their way."
'Had her eyes always looked like silver and storm clouds?' Cullen caught himself wondering as he held her determined stare.
"They will remain a threat," Leliana confirmed, her crisp Orlesian accent breaking the spell. "And a powerful one, unless we act."
The Seeker slammed her fist on the table, knocking over a few spare markers in her zeal. "We cannot accept defeat now. There must be a solution."
Leliana brought over a map of the castle. The rolled parchment was creased and stained, and there were entire areas left blank, but it was the best they had to work off for the moment. The outer walls and common areas were blessedly complete. The two women bent over the plans, poring over it as they looked for a way in, anything that would win them an advantage.
"There's the main gate, but there must be another way in," Katerina muttered, brow furrowing as she looked it over for even the slightest chink in the fortress's armor. "A sewer, maybe? A water course? There must be something."
"There's nothing I know of that would work." Cullen shrugged, scouring his memory of the place for any weakness. His visit there had been short, too short to learn anything of use here.
"Wait," Leliana breathed, tracing a gloved finger over the map. "There's a secret passage out of the castle, an escape route for the family. It's too narrow for a large force, but we could send my agents through."
"Too risky." Everything in him bristled at this terrible idea—a few spies would be little help against a demented magister, Tevinter agents, and whatever other defenses he'd concocted. "Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the magister."
"Then I'll act as a distraction," the mage offered. She shrugged under the surprised looks the advisors shot her way. "Alexius wants my head on a stick badly enough, maybe he'll be too busy gloating that he won't see our agents coming."
"It's risky, but it might work," Cullen agreed slowly. He watched her closely, noting the way her shoulders sloped under the weight of their expectations before she rolled them back and stood tall. The young woman certainly knew how to project the picture of confidence even when he doubted she felt it.
Katerina's wards dissipated then in a soft flicker of light while the thick wood and iron doors bounced and banged against the ancient stone walls of the Chantry.
"Luckily for you, you'll have my help," the newcomer said as the doors flew open. "Those wards were charming—you'll have to teach me how to lay them."
A guard rushed in after the dark-skinned mustachioed man swaggering through, bowing his apologies and trying futilely to pull the Tevinter from the room. The man evaded the guard's grasp as he strolled further in to stand beside the Herald.
"I'm sorry, Commander, my ladies," the harried guard cried. "I couldn't stop him—he says he has information about the magister."
"That's one way to make an entrance, Dorian," Katerina drawled.
"I do so hate to be dull, my lady." He bowed over her hand, kissing the back of it with a flourish that had Cullen grinding his teeth. The man tapped his staff against the floor, turning to the rest of the room and giving another lurid bow. "Dorian Pavus, at your—or, rather, her—service."
"We met in Redcliffe," Katerina supplied, grinning at the mage's antics. "He and Felix warned me of the magister's plot. He's the only reason we've a chance of succeeding."
"Your spies will never get past Alexius's magic without my help," he said, fearlessly staring the Inquisition leaders down. "If you're going after him, I'm coming along."
The rest of the meeting devolved into strategizing, discussing which agents were best suited for the infiltration and assassination of Tevinter fighters and mages, and questioning Dorian about the magister's time magic. The moon was high in the sky before they disbanded. Leliana had pulled the Seeker off to her room while Josephine quickly occupied herself settling the Tevinter mage into Haven ("Point me to the tavern, dear ambassador. A stiff drink and a warm bed is all the welcome I need.").
Only Cullen and the Herald were left. He shifted from one foot to another as she flipped through the reports she'd been handed earlier. She saw the movement from the corner of her eye, but Katerina was only interested in finding one thing at that moment. Her heart sank when the pages soon ran out. There was still no word about her brother's whereabouts.
"Herald, may I speak with you a moment?"
"Why not."
She put the reports in order and forced herself to move then, walking out of the war room beside the Commander. This was still an ex-templar she was dealing with. She had to remember that—he only saw her as the bearer of the mark, an inconvenient tool that couldn't be replicated. Maybe they were adjusting to the other's presence, but his comments during the meeting had made clear that very little had actually changed. His life would be simpler if the mark had attached itself to almost anyone but a mage.
'But why did he nearly forbid you from going?' asked a pesky voice in the back of her head. She smothered that voice with all the weight of their differences, shoving it aside and pretending that thought had never crossed her mind. It was easier like that.
"Will every meeting last an eternity, or was this one special?" she asked, shattering the awkward silence that grew between them.
"I'm sure it would have been just as bad if we were approaching the templars," the Commander replied with a wry grin stretching his scarred lip. "Or possibly worse."
Her jaw cracked as she yawned. "I rue the day I see a meeting worse than that one."
"If this drags on long enough, odds are good that you might."
They shared a polite chuckle, and he took the opportunity to shoot her a sidelong glance as they walked in the moonlight. She was made for it, he decided as the light of the full moon hit her from above. Her skin practically glowed under it, her dark hair cast in silver. She looked like something out of a fairy story—or like a woman made to be a legend.
"Then let's hope that the mages can help seal the Breach so we can all go home," she joked. Her feet naturally led the way towards her cabin, the promise of a quiet meal and a warm bed guiding her steps. "Was there something you wanted to discuss?"
"Yes." His nostrils flared and mouth firmed as he stopped to face her full on. "This plan puts you in the most danger. We—I can't, in good conscience, order you to do this. We can still go after the templars if you'd rather not play the bait. It's your choice."
Katerina didn't miss the strange flicker of… something in his face, but she ignored it with a suppressed sigh. "I understand the risk, Commander. Without this—" she held her hand between them "—the cause is as good as lost. But we know about this trap, know what to expect. The templars are an unknown variable; we'd be almost certainly be walking into another trap, just with far less information."
His gloved hand closed around her wrist then, gently pressing it down. "It's not just about the mark. You're a Circle mage, not a soldier."
"But I'm the one with the mark." Her chin rose defiantly as she stared him down. "There's no one else who can do this, no one else Alexius wants."
"Very well. As I said earlier, it's up to you. We'll meet again tomorrow to finalize the plans."
With that, he turned on his heel and strode away. He knew she was right and still di not like it. How could he? It wasn't the soldier's way to send a civilian into the heart of a military operation. However proficient she was with her magic and her dagger, she wasn't a soldier. She had no training.
No one needed to know how this decision left his stomach churning.