Alistair had pulled over a chair from against one wall, and Isolde was now sitting in it, looking with distracted grief into the fire. Nike had seen Alistair pull the chair over and said nothing, but felt the move was far too compassionate considering.
Not only had Isolde been incredibly cruel to Alistair as a child, so many people had died because of her coddling of her own child.
Nike had mixed feelings about the Circle. She did not know much about them save tales told as she was growing up, and had always felt that what the Circle did was understandable, if not right. Children with such powers were dangerous to themselves and to others. They had to be instructed, trained. The Circle gave them that instruction, that structure. Apostates were extremely dangerous, always the villain in those tales told by the fires in Highever- when the tales being told weren't ones of her father's time in the war. And blood magic-that was spoken in even more fearful and grim tones than apostates were.
Nike had never had reason to question those tales, or what happened at the Circle. Then, Ostagar, and Adaon and-
She half-glanced over at Morrigan, who was regarding a tapestry hung upon the wall with a look that was both curiosity and skepticism.
Morrigan's mother had been a piece of work- but she'd saved them. Morrigan herself was as apostate as they came, but she had saved Holly's life, guided them, fought beside them, and though she owed them nothing she stayed when she could have gone back home.
Adaon was apostate, as was her sister, but she and her family were kind and loving and generous almost to a fault. Adaon had been sweet, compassionate, understanding- Nike had felt far safer in her company than many others she had grown up with or around, come to think of it.
Two astonishingly strong, resilient, amazing women- both apostates. Both afraid of what would happen if they were caught and taken to the Circle (although Morrigan would never admit to having such a fear). Where did those fears come from, if the Circle was nothing more than a way to train mages and keep them safe?
Then, what was the Circle truly doing if not training young mages to help keep them and others safe, so that incidents like Connor didn't happen? This was terrible indeed but…again, she couldn't help but think of Adaon, Bethany, and Morrigan. All three had grown up without becoming abominations. They had done so without tearing the Veil, without unleashing demons and other restless spirits out into the world, as Connor had done. One might argue that Adaon and Bethany at least had their father to train them and Morrigan her mother but- if such training were good enough to prevent such atrocities just as well as the Circle could, why was the Circle then needed? The Templars? Older mages could simply apprentice and train younger ones on their own, much like smithies or merchants or leatherworkers did.
And blood magic? That's where Nike really started to get stuck. She'd need to speak with Morrigan about it later but- surely something that could bring Morrigan from the brink of death to upon her feet without so much as a bruise in just a few passing moments- it couldn't be all that bad, could it? And Jowan did have a point- could the Grey Warden's ritual be considered a form of blood magic? The Circle's phylacteries certainly sounded as if they could be, though she had made a note to ask more about those as well.
Was blood magic considered evil inappropriately? Was it more a question of people spreading tales out of school, to terrify people against blood magic so much that they'd be easier to control? Those in power using such tactics to keep power was not out of the realm of possibility- far from. Was this hypocrisy in them, or pretty words from a desperate man in a cell trying to save his own skin by saving Morrigan's?
Nike's thoughts returned to the present when the door opened, but it was Sten and those who had gone with him to open the gate. The qunari took in the scene with barely more than an uplifted brow, before he spoke to Alistair.
"The gate is open. What is the situation?"
"We're having a mage brought up from the dungeon," Alistair said. "We need some advice on how to handle the situation here."
Nike didn't miss the way that Sten's eyes shifted, even though it was extremely well-schooled. "You dislike mages?" she asked, and the qunari looked at her.
"I dislike Saarebas who are without their Arvaarad," he told her.
"I'm guessing that 'Saarebas' is the qunari word for mage?" Nike said, her tone uncertain. "What is an Arvaarad?"
"A handler," Morrigan said coldly, moving to Nike's shoulder. "A keeper."
"A keeper?" Nike asked, baffled, and looked back over to Sten.
"That is a simplistic term," Sten said with a dour look at Morrigan. "Saarebas are dangerous. They are never allowed to be alone. They are chained at all times to their Arvaarad, and the qun demands that if one is separated from their Arvaarad, either through death or accident, they must take their life, or it shall be taken for them."
"You do realize that Morrigan is a mage, yes?" Nike asked.
"I understand that is Saarebas, yes," he said, and nodded toward Morrigan on the 'that' which only incensed both women.
"Listen, you white-haired little worm-" Morrgan started at the same moment that Nike spoke.
"She is not a 'that!' How dare you call her a 'that' just because she is a mage!" She said, taking a step closer to the qunari.
"Calm down, can we just-…we have enough to be getting on with, don't you think?" Alistair asked, hands out and placating.
Sten completely ignored Morrigan and Alistair, addressing Nike.
"That was not my meaning," he said. "I do not know the term for it in the languages of the bas."
"If you didn't call her 'that' because she's a mage, then why the hell did you say it?" Nike asked. "What term could possibly be that confusing?"
"It is in reference to the third gender of the bas."
"Third…what?" Nike was now more baffled than ever, her anger fading in the wake of it. "I don't-…am I correct that 'bas' means 'us?' Fereldens?"
"All who are not qunari, Vashoth, or Tal-Vashoth are bas," he said.
Nike didn't know what Vashoth or Tal-Vashoth were, but she was pretty sure that part didn't mean Fereldens.
"Am I correct in saying that Alistair, Morrigan and I are all bas?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Are the dwarves back at camp 'bas'? Tahja?"
"Yes."
So it wasn't just a generic term for humans either. Nike supposed she'd gotten close enough to the meaning of the word for government work, and it was beside what she wanted to know anyway.
"Then I am really confused," she said. "Neither us humans, the elves, nor the dwarves have a 'third gender' as such."
"You do."
"We don't," Nike said. "Just men and women, like any other race I'm aware of."
"No. You and that are not men, and you are not women." He nodded toward Morrigan again when he said the second 'that', and Nike didn't have to look at her to know that something scathing was about to be said to the qunari- or something scorching was about to be sent to the same target.
"I beg your pardon?" Nike said before Morrigan could speak. "Morrigan and I are both women."
"That is impossible," he had sounded bluntly neutral before, now he sounded condescending, or as if he thought they thought he was a fool and they were having him on. "You wield weapons, wear armor. You fight, and you lead. He answers to you. You are not a woman."
He had gestured at Alistair, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere other than there right at that moment. Several of the still living guards, who had been reverently removing the bodies of the slain, looked the same way. One, a woman, had distinctly red ears and a grim, almost murderous look on her face as she walked past the qunari. Sten didn't so much as look at her.
Morrigan laughed. "Oh, I see. Because we are not simpering, helpless little girls saying 'yes sir' and 'no sir' to any creature who foolishly keeps their reproductive organs on the outside, we must not be women."
"Yes," Sten said, with absolutely no sense of irony or any indication he'd understood her sarcasm.
"Maker preserve us," Nike said. "Regardless of what you may or may not think of our genders, you will refer to Morrigan and myself and any other 'woman in armor' as we- or they- prefer, and not as 'that'. In fact, you will refer to any bas you meet, whatever their race and whatever gender you might think they are, as they prefer. All right?"
Alistair, who seemed to want to get the conversation anywhere other than the uncomfortable place it had found, spoke up. "So you know that Morrigan is a mage, but it doesn't bother you that she doesn't have an aardvark?"
Despite her irritation, Nike almost burst out laughing herself when Alistair said that. Sten didn't show even the slightest hint of amusement, merely corrected him.
"Arvaarad. That-…" He broke off and looked at Morrigan. "Do you prefer 'she?'"
"I do," Morrigan said, her own mouth deciding between amusement and anger, with amusement beginning to win out.
"She has an Arvaarad," he said, without missing a further beat, then pointed at Nike. "Th-…you prefer 'she?'"
"I do," Nike said, just as Morrigan had.
"She is her Arvaarad."
"I thought you said they kept your mages chained?" Alistair asked. Sten, now, was looking impatient. It seemed he was over the entire conversation.
"I cannot explain all the foolish things that bas do, in comparison to the qunari. We will be here for a lifetime."
Just then, the doors opened again and some of the soldiers returned, the mage from the cells in their company. Isolde, who had been lost in staring at the fire and who had not given any sort of reaction to the conversation around her, almost instantly turned and rose, heading over to join them. Her chin was stiff, and she was all but shaking with her desire to attack Jowan or to accuse him, but she contained it.
"Jowan, you remember Morrigan," Nike said without preamble, as both Sten and Alistair drew close as well. "This is Sten of the Beresaad, and Alistair. We are looking for a way to help Connor, to get this demon to leave him alone. Morrigan says that he is not yet a true abomination, that the demon is still beyond a tear in the Veil, controlling him from there. Can you help us?"
Jowan nodded respectfully at each of them, save perhaps Isolde. "I think I can, yes. Your mage is right; Connor tore the Veil and the demon is reaching through it. It is trying to convince Connor to let it in, but it hasn't quite convinced him yet."
Her brows knit. "Why do you think that is?"
"Connor tore the Veil to help his ill father, and the demon has shown its power to Connor by keeping Eamon alive, but that's not what Connor wants-"
"Of course he wants his father alive!" Isolde snapped. "That is all that he wants, all that I want! Eamon is ill because of you, and-"
"Lady Guerrin, please," Nike said, and Isolde closed her mouth, fuming a little.
Jowan had raised his hands under Isolde's sudden verbal tirade, eyes widening. He spoke quickly.
"Of course that's what he wants, but that's not all he wants, I mean! He wants his father alive but he also wants his father himself again, up and talking and able to play with him, be hale and healthy. The demon is keeping him alive and that is the only reason the demon has any hold on the boy. So long as the demon keeps Eamon alive but comatose, it has sway over Connor. Eamon dies, it loses that hold."
"So as long as the demon keeps Eamon alive, Connor cannot escape it," Nike said. "And it promises the boy that he can have his father back fully healthy and awake, if only he'll let the demon all the way in."
"Yes, exactly. The demon wants to possess the boy, to make him an abomination, to gain full access to this side of the Veil. But Connor is scared- of course he is. The demon is keeping his father alive, so he dare not banish it back behind the Veil. But he's also scared. He at least senses that to let the demon all the way in would be disastrous. Connor is walking a very thin tightrope, one that has driven adult men mad. But it also gives us the time we need to break the demon's hold altogether."
"What do we need to do?" Nike asked, but it was Morrigan who answered.
"There are two options that would release the demon's hold on the boy without possessing him, and without killing the child. The first is simply to cure his father. If his father is hale and healthy again, the boy no longer needs the demon to keep him alive. However, there is no cure for akinosia, outside of the mythical 'Urn of Sacred Ashes'. If it even exists, let alone has the healing properties ascribed to it, tis unlikely it can be found in time."
"What's our other option?" Nike asked.
"Confront the demon itself in the Fade," Jowan told her. "A mage can go into the Fade, find the demon on that side, and get it to release it's hold on the boy. Once it does, the Veil will be repaired, and the immediate danger from that demon will be resolved."
"The immediate danger," Nike nodded. "He'd still need to go to the Circle to insure this doesn't happen again-"
"No! I will not let Connor go to that hideous Tower! I will not-"
"Isolde, my patience," Nike said, a warning note in her voice. "We are trying to find ways to help your son from the situation you put him in, while preserving his life. I would not suggest arguing, unless you'd much rather we take the simplest course of all and-"
"No!" Isolde said, horrified. Nike nodded.
"Then hold your tongue please. Jowan, continue. What would be involved in sending you into the Fade?"
"I would need at least one other mage to assist," he said and glanced at Morrigan. "That it seems I have, if she is willing?"
"She is willing enough," Morrigan said, then tilted her head a little toward Nike, Alistair, and Sten. "They, however, may not be so willing."
"Why wouldn't we be willing to let you help him?" Nike asked.
"To help the child in the way he is suggesting, with only the two of us, blood magic would be needed," she said. Jowan blew out a breath and seemed to deflate a little.
"It's true," he said. "And not the simple use you saw down in the cellar-"
"He performed blood magic down in that cellar?" Alistair asked, gaping at Nike. "Why would-"
"We can discuss it later," Nike told him, and looked back at Jowan. "How much more complicated are we talking?"
"To maintain the spell, we would need the lifeblood of a person," he said. "All of it."
Nike stared at him, momentarily mute with shock at what she'd just heard.
"You mean someone would have to die so you can use all their blood for this ritual?" Alistair asked. "Nike, I'm sorry, but I cannot allow that."
"It seems simple enough to me," Sten said. "This Saarebas is already a prisoner. His actions in part led to this situation, and he has no Arvaarad. Let his blood undo what he's done."
"Unfortunately," Jowan said, but his tone suggested it was anything but unfortunate, "It can't be me. It can't be either of the mage's performing the ritual for just that reason- one needs to hold the ritual and the other needs to cross into the Fade to confront the demon. We are the only two whose blood cannot be used."
"So one of us has to die?" Nike asked.
"There is-" Jowan began to say, but Isolde interrupted him.
"I will do it," she said. All eyes turned to her, and Alistair seemed to go as pale as wax. Isolde had that stubborn, proud set to her chin again, her eyes dry but gloss.
"Lady Guerrin, surely we-" Alistair began, but she cut him off, looking at Nike.
"Your Ladyship, I beg you to listen. I am Connor's mother. If someone must die so that he can be safe, then it should be me. As you say, it is my actions that have caused this all to happen. These lives are on my head. I only wanted to keep my child safe, and I will give my life and my blood if that is the price to do it."
"Before you make your decision," Morrigan said coolly to her friend, "I believe the prisoner was about to suggest yet another alternative."
Nike jumped on that, looking at Jowan again. "Were you? Is there another way we can do this without someone dying?"
"Not the blood magic," he said. "With only we two here, blood magic is the only way- but if we had more mages, we wouldn't need blood magic. With sufficient mages and a supply of lyrium, the ritual could be performed and the demon confronted in the Fade without anyone having to die for it. I'm just not sure how feasible a solution that will be."
"Why not?"
"It will take time," he said. "Someone will need to go to the Tower and convince the mages there to help, and to part with enough lyrium to perform the ritual. It will also take Connor. I'm sorry, Lady Isolde, but there is no way the mages will agree to come and help without also taking your son back with them to the Circle at the end."
"No," Isolde said again, sounding weary and broken. "No, I will give my life. Please, I will give my life if you two do the ritual, save my Connor. I cannot stand the thought of him in that place-"
"You'd rather stand the thought of him losing his mother?" Nike asked. "You would do that to your child? My personal feelings about you aside, Lady Guerrin, but as someone who has lost her mother, do not make your son live that pain for the rest of his life. Especially if there is any hint that losing you was in even the remotest way his fault."
"Not to mention, the problem would still remain, even if we did use blood magic to deal with this demon," Alistair told her. "I can't speak for anyone else here, but I could not live with myself taking your life to save Connor from a demon and then leaving him outside the Circle. It's not safe. For him or for anyone. I think what's happened here only proves that."
Nike wasn't entirely sure she agreed- though she was pretty sure most of her did- but she jumped on what he'd said.
"Yes, that's precisely right. He would end up with the Circle regardless. Let him do so knowing his mother loves him and lives, than condemning him to do so with your death and his guilt for it on his shoulders."
"It would not be his fault," Isolde said. She was weeping now, unable to stop the tears. "I did this! Mon dieu this is all my fault. All my fault."
"Even if that's true, he'll still blame himself," Nike told her gently. "If there's any way to do this without killing someone, then that's the way we take."
She looked at Alistair, who clearly agreed with her, then at Jowan. The mage nodded, unconcerned, but when Nike looked at Morrigan she could see the shadow of something behind her eyes. Her nod was slower, but she gave it. She didn't bother to look at Sten- he would likely not give an indication he felt one way or the other about it.
"Very well," she said. "How long would it take to get to the Circle?"
"The Tower is in the middle of the lake," Jowan said. "A week if you rode around the lake itself- a day by boat. Getting the mages to agree to come and bring that much lyrium with them, however- that will be a task in and of itself."
"There's a boat," a voice said from near one wall. Nike turned, and looked at Bann Teagan. He was sitting against the wall, a cold cloth on his head and looking squint-eyed and dazed. A soldier crouched nearby and had clearly been tending to him.
"There's a boat," he said again, wincing as he took the cloth off the sizeable bump on his temple and regarded it for traces of blood. "Eamon's own boat, down at the village docks. It's large enough for five but not for mounts. Not that mounts will be needed, nowhere to ride on the island. I can give you a letter, sealed with my own seal. Give that to Irving, and he'll give you what you need."
"Thank you," Nike said. "We'll take the boat and your note, though I'm not sure the latter will be needed."
"Why not?" Alistair asked.
"We still have to serve our treaty to the Circle as well," Nike said. "We have to go to the Tower regardless of what happens here, might as well take two wrens down with the same sling. A day across the lake, a day talking to the mages, and a day back. Jowan, will that be too long?"
"I don't think so," Jowan said. "If Lady Isolde will agree to leave me out of that cell, I can help Connor keep the demon at bay, help contain some of what's happening here."
"Well, Lady Isolde? What say you?" Nike asked.
"I seem to have little to say that matters," she said, but even the bitterness in her voice was watery. "I do not trust this man, but if this will save Connor's life, I don't think I have much choice."
"Very well then, we'll prepare to go at once," Nike said, and Alistair nodded, heading over to Teagan with Sten on his heels. Isolde turned back to her seat without another glance at them, and Nike looked at Jowan.
"You saved Morrigan, so you have this chance, Jowan," she said to the maleficar. "Do not waste it."
"I swear to you I will do all I can to keep the boy safe," he said. "Isolde and all others in this castle as well. When all this is done, I will tell you also who paid me to poison Eamon so long as you make me one promise."
"What is that?" Nike asked.
"That you'll execute me. You, yourself. A quick, clean death at your hands. I'd much rather that than you turning me back over to the Circle to be made Tranquil."