Some time had passed, before Alistair gently woke her up. By the quality of the light it was early afternoon. Whether due to her exhaustion or the soothing rock of the boat, she had suffered no dreams as she slept, good or ill.

"Are you hungry? There's some cold chicken. I couldn't remember the last time you'd had something. Of course, I couldn't remember the last time I had either."

Sitting up, Nike tugged her fingers through her hair and wished that she'd at least had a comb. Alistair sat down beside her and offered her the chicken, wrapped in a large grape leaf. She was starving, but ate with her usual decorum.

Above them, the sky was spotted with herds of clouds as white and plush as any pampered sheep. The breeze was cool. Her eyes travelled up and saw Morrigan was still dozing in her perch atop the mast. Seeing her gaze, Alistair nodded.

"I tried to get her to come down and eat but she only gave me a look. You know the one. Or, not. She does seem to reserve it only for me."

Nike smiled a little at him. "She doesn't. She doles it out liberally. Don't worry about it."

"Say, what happened to you two last night?" he asked. "Down in that basement with the mage- Jowan, was it?"

"Morrigan used her spider form to get us over the wall and into the courtyard," she told him. "We tried to get the gate open but couldn't manage it. She was going to fly back to the rest of you, let you know but an archer shot her from one of the tower windows."

"Shot her?"

"It was bad," Nike said softly, still watching the sleeping raven. "I went looking for the kitchens, hoping that they had some edevas."

"And you found Jowan instead. And he healed her. That's the blood magic you were talking about."

"Yes," she said, then finally looked at him. He was looking almost broodily at the bits of chicken left in his own grape leaf, picking through them as if he'd found a hair and was debating on having a word with the waiter about it. "You disapprove?"

"Not a fan of blood magic," he said, and looked at her. "But I also don't know what else you could have done."

She was on the verge of telling him about her thoughts of blood magic and how she wasn't entirely sure what they even were any more, but her inner voice only whispered that he used to be a templar, and probably wouldn't understand.

"This whole thing is just one big mess, isn't it?" he said after a moment. "Eamon sick, Connor and that demon- so many dead because a mother just couldn't bear to be parted from her son."

"She is a selfish, self-righteous, thoughtless woman," Nike said bitterly. To her surprise Alistair started to defend Isolde.

"It was her child! I mean, he should have been sent to the Circle of course but, I mean-…what if it was your child?"

"I would have sent him to the Circle," Nike said without hesitation. "I would have sent him a thousand times over if-"

She broke off, blinking and knitting her brows.

"You ok?" Alistair asked, and she nodded.

"What I just said, I just don't know that's true," she said. "Not any more. I've never questioned the Circle, its necessity, but Adaon never went, and she and her sister are able to handle themselves just fine. Morrigan as well. They've all managed not to become abominations, to be good and decent people."

"Morrigan, good and decent?" Alistair grinned.

"Don't make me push you off the boat, Alistair," Nike said, smiling wanly back. "She is good and decent. She put her life on the line to help us. Her life, her freedom, her home. And she doesn't like you, so that brings her up a notch."

He laughed again. "Ok, I did deserve that," he said. "And I do appreciate her help. But Morrigan, Adaon, Bethany- you must realize that these are the exceptions, not the rule. As much as I hate to say it, what's happening with Connor is far more common than you would think, and a very real consequence of children not being sent to the Circle as soon as they manifest."

"You were just arguing that I was being too hard on Isolde for not sending the boy to the Circle, and now you're defending sending mages just like him to the Circle," Nike said.

"Maker, you're right," he said. "I suppose my own beliefs are not as clear-cut as I thought they were, either. Nothing since Ostagar seems to make much sense to me anymore. I suppose I-"

He broke off as Gerink suddenly released the small wheel and strode over. His eyes weren't on them but on something on the horizon. Nike and Alistair got to their feet, following his gaze.

In the distance, Nike could see the small island amid the slate gray waters of Lake Calenhad, and the great pale Tower that rose from it. Nothing seemed amiss, but as she was about to ask Gerink what the matter was, a light flashed from the island. It seemed to be coming from a place just at the water line, but it was still too far away to make out properly.

"We'll have to turn around," Gerink said, as the light flashed again, then again, winking at seeming random.

"What?" Nike shook her head. "No, we can't turn around. What are you talking about? What is that light?"

"It's a message," Alistair told her. "Code. I recognize it. Just says the same thing over and over. Do not approach the Tower. Disregard at own peril."

"Well that's a load of rubbish!" she said hotly.

"Nike, we don't know what the situation is," Alistair said.

"I do know what the situation is," she said. "It's either we get some more mages and some lyrium to perform this ritual or we turn this boat back around and murder a boy's mother so we can perform this ritual."

Alistair stared at her a moment, a gray cast to his face, before he nodded. "Yes, of course you're right."

"If we keep on they may attack the boat," Gerink said.

"Is there a way to signal them back then?" Nike asked. "Get some more information, or let them know we'd take it very unkindly if they decided to attack?"

"Unkindly?" Gerink asked, flabbergasted. "I get you lot are Wardens but that's an entire Tower filled with mages and Templars. I don't think they're going to care if you take their attack 'unkindly'-"

"Is there a way to signal them back?"

"If we wait for the sun to shift a bit more I can use the flat of my sword, if we don't have a mirror," Alistair said.

"I could go," Morrigan said suddenly from behind them, making Alistair and Gerink jump. As they gaped at her, she held out her hand. "Give me the treaty for the Circle and I'll drop it at their feet."

"No!" Alistair replied. "For one thing, they may not let even a raven approach the island, especially if that raven is carrying something. For another, they may just drop the treaty in the water, or set it on fire, if you got close enough to give it to them. They don't have to read it."

"I don't think they'd do that but it's still too great a risk to you," Nike said to Morrigan. "Can you signal them back? Using your fireballs, or something?"

"I could," Morrigan said. "However I do not know the code that they are using."

"I'll walk you through it," Alistair said.

With Alistair and Gerink giving instruction, Morrigan made a fireball appear on her hand and vanish again. Nike kept her eye on the flashing light on shore, which stopped almost the moment Morrigan's began.

"I think it's working," Nike said. "At the very least they seem to be 'listening'."

Morrigan sent the message: Help required from Circle to save Arl Eamon. Have treaty.

After she finished, the rest of them joined Nike at the bow, squinting toward shore to see the response. It came a few moments later, quite short.

"Well, that's nice!" Alistair said when it had finished, scandalized. "Bugger off? That's all they can think to say?"

"They did not say that, did they?" Nike asked, and when he nodded her look turned black. "I'll show them 'bugger off'! How long until we arrive at the dock?"

"Just before sunset, if we don't turn around," Gerink said.

"Oh, we are not turning around. Keep going at this speed. Alistair, give me the treaty for the Circle."

Looking wary, he dug in the pouch, found the treaty for the Circle, and passed it to her. She held it tight in her hand, staying at the bow and watching as the Tower slowly slipped closer and closer. Morrigan, clearly delighted and intrigued as to what Nike might do, stayed beside her.

The flashing resumed a few minutes later, but Nike didn't even bother to ask for a translation. Slowly the Tower grew more and more defined, the small shore at its foot appearing. When she could make out the details of the dock and the smudge of a person using what looked like a mirror to signal them, Alistair apparently couldn't take the tension any more.

"He's saying that if we dock and try and set foot on the island he's under orders to kill us," he said.

"Well, he's certainly welcome to try, isn't he?" Morrigan asked. She sounded amused.

"I don't know about 'welcome'," Alistair said. "I for one am a bit tired of people trying to kill us."

When Nike could make out the signalman's arms and legs clearly, she finally moved. Turning to where she had set Far Song and her arrows, she picked up the quiver and put it on, then took the bow.

"You're not going to shoot them are you?" Alistair asked warily. She ignored him, stepping back up to the bow.

"You are going to shoot them, are you not?" Morrigan said, far more enthusiastic about the possibility. Nike said nothing to her either. Taking out an arrow she carefully affixed the treaty to it, tying it tightly so it would not fall off.

Looking back up at shore she saw that the signalman had been joined by another. These two seemed to be discussing them. They were close enough now to hear their voices although they could not make out the words.

The dock seemed a bit small, only sticking out into the water by a few feet. The signalman was wearing leather armor, but the man he was talking to was in full plate. He had a circular shield on his arm, wood with a great iron boss in the middle.

Nike put the arrow with the treaty to string and stretched Far Song. With a snap, the arrow leapt away, sinking with a solid thunk into the shield. The man holding it took half a step to the side, narrowing his eyes at her in surprise, before he looked at his shield. Glancing at the signalman, he tore the arrow out, then unwound the treaty and opened it. After a long moment looking at the parchment, he looked back up at the boat, then closed the scroll and said something to the signalman, who nodded.

Shield turned and strode toward the great front door of the Tower, holding the scroll and the arrow in one hand.

Signalman watched them draw closer but made no aggressive moves. Nike stepped up on the rail as they swung in to the dock, stepping lightly down onto the wood the moment it was in reach.

"Bugger off?" she said to the signalman, who looked at her blandly.

"You don't know what's good for you, do you?" he asked as Morrigan also stepped down, Alistair quickly scrambling over the rail, hand to his sword as he measured the situation.

"We are Grey Wardens with an active treaty with the Circle Tower in the time of a Blight," Nike said coldly. "And you told us to bugger off? It would seem that we are not the ones who don't know what's good for them!"

"Seamus, that's enough," the man with the shield who had disappeared with the treaty now returned, heading their direction. "Forgive him, he's hardly the brightest of our number."

"I was told to keep everyone away from the docks and that's what I was doing," Seamus said, but at a scathing look from Shield he flapped his hands and looked away, as if they weren't there.

"My apologies," Shield said, and offered Nike back the treaty. "But there is a bit of a…situation. Greagoir will explain more. He'd like to see you. If you'll please follow me?"

Nike handed the treaty back to Alistair, who put it back into the pouch as Shield started back toward the Tower door. "Is it just me, or does it seem that everyone has a 'bit of a situation' these days," she asked Morrigan as they followed after him. "I guess this is our life now."

"There are those who will always rely on the competent to resolve what they should be resolving for themselves."

"Another kitten in a tree, I guess?" Alistair tried to joke, but it fell flat as both women looked balefully at him.

Morrigan looked back at the Tower again as they neared the door, but her expression changed quickly. Seeing it, Nike frowned.

"What is it?"

"I am not sure," Morrigan said softly. "Something is terribly amiss. It is much as I felt back at Redcliffe, stronger, and yet different."

"What you felt back at Redcliffe was a demon," Nike said.

"Tis true," Morrigan said simply, which hardly put Nike at any ease.

As they stepped into the Tower then, and a single glance around only confirmed that something very, very wrong was happening here.

The ground floor was taken up by a very spacious hall, half again as big as the Great Hall in Highever had been. Almost every inch of space in this hall was taken up with men and women in armor, a controlled bustle intermingling with signs of injury and weariness. Near the door, five or six bodies had been laid and carefully covered with cloaks.

Shield led them through to a scarred and iron-haired man at the far end, introducing him as Knight-Commander Greagoir, the head of the Templars for the Circle. Greagoir, for his part, measured them with eyes as feeling as flint. He spoke before they could say a word.

"Wardens, I respect the treaty that you so creatively presented to us, and that respect is the only reason I'm taking the time to speak to you. I regret that you will find little help here. The Tower is sealed and no longer under our control. I have sent word already to Denerim for reinforcements and I'm just waiting on confirmation for the Right of Annulment."

The term only knit Nike's brows in confusion but Alistair reacted as if he'd been struck. "What? What's happened?"

"We're not entirely sure," Greagoir told him. "And I cannot risk any more men going in to find out. Suffice it to say that demons and abominations by the score roam the halls. Far too many, mages and Templars alike, have been lost."

"You have no idea the cause?" Nike asked, and when Greagoir shook his head, she made a helpless gesture. "We're here because we need the mage's help to resolve a situation at Redcliffe Castle, as well as against the Blight. Am I correct that you are telling me that the mages are all dead?"

"What I am telling you, is that I don't know," Greagoir told her. "What I do know is that all of the mages -or near enough as to make no difference- are either dead in there or have been turned into abominations. Enough of my templars have lost their lives in trying to regain control of the Tower, and I am not willing to spare another of them. As soon as I receive authorization, I will invoke the Right."

"What is this 'right' you speak of?" Morrigan asked.

"It's a right given to Templars in the case a Circle goes rogue and cannot be salvaged," Alistair said thickly. "It gives them authorization to go in and sweep the Tower clean without prejudice."

"Sweep it clean?" Nike asked. "You mean it gives them a right to murder all the mages?"

"Execute, not murder," Greagoir said. "When given the Right, I will go in with my Templars and the reinforcements from Denerim and clear this Tower of every living thing in it- mages, abominations, demons- even the rats if necessary."

"There could still be mages left alive in there," Nike said, horrified. "Ones who haven't done anything wrong! Execution demands a crime, a trial and a judgement. How precisely is this not actually murder again?"

"Warden, I understand your emotion," Greagoir said tiredly. "I share it. I have lived and worked my entire life among these men and women, but we do not have a choice here. If those abominations and demons break free, if even one of the mages so possessed were to escape, it would be disastrous. The Right was first created because a single abomination was able to escape into the countryside and slaughter seventy innocents before it was stopped, and that was after hundreds of deaths in the Tower itself."

"There has to be a better solution than this!"

"Very well," Greagoir said, still measuring her. "The best I can do is this. I will not lose any more men to this madness, but if you Wardens are willing to enter the Tower and put a stop to what is happening, there will be no need to invoke the Right. Otherwise, you are welcome to remain here until I get those reinforcements from Denerim. Once the Tower is purged my Templars will be free to answer your 'treaty' and join you against the Blight. It is your choice."

"That does nothing to help Redcliffe, Arl Eamon, or Connor," Alistair said to Nike. "But, only the three of us against Maker knows what is in there?"

"And well I know it," she said. Looking at Greagoir she said, "Give my companions and me a moment, if you would?"

Pulling Alistair and Morrigan aside she spoke softly to them. "What are our options?"

"The simplest would be to allow his Right and bring the Templars onto our side against the Blight," Morrigan said. "The boy's mother was willing enough to die for the ritual that would save him."

"I'm not ready to slit a woman's throat, however distasteful that woman might be," Nike said. "Though we may not end up with any choice. Alistair, thoughts?"

"It seems the least insane choice," he said carefully. "I mean, we three can hold our own but we were hard pressed against a single demon that wasn't even across the Veil in Redcliffe. Here, we'd have abominations and multiple demons all fighting us. And to what end, if all the mages are already dead or changed?"

"I cannot believe that all the Circle mages are already gone," Nike said. "I know you two may weary of me pointing this out, but both Adaon and Morrigan are extremely capable. I must believe that some of the Circle mages as well are just as capable. If they are still alive in there they are fighting for those lives, and I don't agree that they should be killed out of hand- they deserve help."

"We do them no good at all if we go in and die alongside them," Morrigan said.

Nike closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, searching her heart for a long, painful moment before she looked at Morrigan again.

"I want you to go," she said softly.

"What? Why?" Morrigan asked stiffly.

"This is far more than we bargained for. I cannot in good conscience leave here and let whatever is happening here run its course. The mages- I know that I don't know them, and it's easy for me to fall into fear about all of this mess but- I just keep thinking of you, and of Adaon, and that little boy in that Keep. These are people, many of them no doubt as good and worthy of life as you are. Not to mention the Templars will be of help for the Blight but the mages and Templars together would be quite a force to be reckoned with. This may be a stupid choice and doomed to failure but I have to go in there and at least try. I cannot, however, ask that you go in with us."

A strange expression passed over the mage's face. It was clear that this was not what she had expected Nike to say, and now was being caught off-footed in her response. Morrigan was rarely ever indecisive, and even in her surprise she seemed to resolve her mind quite quickly.

"If there are abominations and demons within, I am the best equipped to make sure the same number of Wardens that went into this Tower emerge from it again. I will be staying right here."

"No," Nike said. "I want you to go."

Now Morrigan's expression tightened a little, but her voice was just as even as before. "I shall do nothing of the sort. I am remaining, and we are wasting time in this pointless debate."

Nike said nothing, rubbing her hand over her eyes a moment than looking at Alistair. "Yes?"

"I would feel a bit better if we had a few more people, but I agree. We need to try. I don't see a way around it that will let us sleep at night."

Nike turned and walked back to Greagoir, who looked up again as she approached.

"Well?"

"We will go in and do what we can to clear the Tower."

"That's your prerogative, but know this," he said, and pointed toward the guarded door nearby. "Once you go in that door no one will let you out again. The only way that door opens again to let anyone out is if the First Enchanter himself is on the other side of it and declares it is safe. I cannot risk it otherwise."

"And if the First Enchanter is already dead?" Nike asked. His unwavering stare was answer enough.

Nike finally nodded, and then held out her hand. "Agreed."

"Agreed then," Greagoir said, clasping her hand hard and giving it a shake, before calling toward the door. "All right lads, the three Wardens are going in. Let's get that door unbarred."