"I suppose," Morrigan said neutrally, after a long moment's silence. "That does seem the most suitable answer. The demon was rather foolish in its attempts to convince me, in light of the fact I spoke quite plainly that I was not convinced."
Nike's brows knit almost in pain a moment, and she looked at the porthole for a long while, before she finally looked back at Morrigan with a clear expression. "I guess this means we're friends then," she said lightly.
Morrigan had also sat up, and now blinked at Nike a bit owlishly. "Friends?"
"Well, sure," Nike said. "Why would a demon, even a foolish one, put us there in those rooms if not to try and appeal to your sense of camaraderie with us?"
Morrigan laughed briefly. "You, perhaps," she said. "You are tolerable at least. Alistair I would have left behind without a moment's hesitation."
Nike smiled at her, and then Morrigan plucked at the blanket a little, clearing her throat. "Truth be told," she said. "I thought that I had seen clearly through the deception. I knew she was a demon, and not my true mother. I knew that the situation around me was simply her trick to pacify me. However-"
"What?" Nike asked gently.
"I may have been deceived a little," she said. "Though it wounds my pride to say such a thing. When I confronted the desire demon here, in the Waking Realms, I saw you go under its thrall. When I, too, fell into its thrall and found myself back in Flemeth's hut…"
She actually colored a little, which surprised Nike more than anything.
"You thought the wounded versions of me and Alistair in that hut were actually the real us? Kept unconscious by the demon to sway you?" Nike asked. Looking as if the action caused her physical pain, Morrigan nodded slowly.
"I was not enthralled by the demon, but I was fooled in this small way."
"I know it must grate upon you to hear it, but you're only human, Morrigan," Nike said with a soft smile. "I was fooled far more than you were. And I didn't get to see Alistair's prison, but I have no doubt he was utterly convinced by it. You were cleverer than we were."
"To be cleverer than Alistair is not so high a bar as you might think," Morrigan said loftily.
"You're too hard on Alistair," she said. "I know he's a bit of a…well. But he's a good man, trying to do the right thing. Sometimes just that is the hardest thing anyone can do."
"You are not sweet on the boy, are you?" Morrigan asked, then tsked. "I would have thought your tastes rather more refined."
"No," Nike smiled. "No, I'm not sweet on Alistair."
"I suspect he may be a bit sweet on you," Morrigan told her. This did surprise Nike, and her brows lifted.
"What? Seriously? Alistair?"
"Yes. I have seen the way he looks at you, when you are looking the other way," she said. "It is quite similar to how that apostate kept looking at you."
"You're having me on."
"I'm not," Morrigan said adamantly. "When you must inevitably break his heart, please let me know. I should much like to see it."
Nike shook her head, chuckling a little. Then she said, "You looked a bit shocked when I called you my friend. Have you not had one before?"
"What friends do you imagine I had growing up in the Wilds?" Morrigan asked. "I had no need of them. Tis an awkward subject, I think. I have no idea why anyone would want to be my friend nor how to proceed to be one myself."
"You're doing all right, for someone without a clue," Nike said. "This…right here. This is what friends do, Morrigan. They talk to each other, listen. Spend time in each other's company. Support one another, watch each other's backs. You've been being a friend to me ever since I met you. There's no secret formula here."
"I…do not know what to say," Morrigan said softly. "We should probably try and get some sleep again."
Turning she curled up on her side of the bed, back toward Nike. Wondering if she'd done or said something to offend her, Nike covered her face a moment before she, too, lay back down and closed her eyes.
Smooth, Cousland. Real smooth.
When they arrived in Redcliffe, they did not immediately head to the castle. One of the soldiers ran to fetch Teagan, and when he arrived in the village, Irving gathered them all together to speak.
"When we enter the castle the demon will know what we are there for," the First Enchanter told them. "The danger to Connor and the others will increase tenfold. The boy must be drugged."
"Drugged?" Nike asked, surprised.
"Yes. With him unconscious the demon's senses into this world will be greatly reduced. We have potions that will do the trick with no harm to the boy. Then we can begin the ritual and confront the demon in the Fade."
"Give me the potion," Teagan said. "I can get him to take it with little trouble. The boy has a taste for sweet tea."
"We shall wait across the bridge. The moment he is unconscious we shall enter the castle and prepare the ritual." Irving looked at Nike. "You said that Jowan is in Redcliffe's dungeons?"
"Yes, he was willing to help," Nike told him.
"I don't want that man anywhere near Connor," Teagan said.
"We have more than enough mages here now for the ritual," Irving said. "I think it is best as well that we do not tempt fate by having Jowan participate. What were you planning to do with him once we are finished?"
Everyone looked at her, and she blinked a little. "He asked me to execute him, personally," she said. "He said he would rather die than go back to the Circle to be made Tranquil."
"That is likely the fate that lays in wait for him," Irving said sadly. "I loathe the very idea of Tranquil, however it is a necessary evil in some situations. Jowan has proven to be a maleficar, one willing to take coin to harm others. I see no alternative for him, even repentant, if he comes back to the Circle. If you have passed a sentence of execution-"
"I have passed nothing," Nike said. "That was his request in exchange for his help. The authority to pass such a sentence is not mine, surely. Connor is Teagan's family. Jowan is a Circle Mage and as such under your authority, First Enchanter. His actions were against none of mine, and have nothing to do with the Wardens. I would think it would be up to you, or to Eamon when he wakes to pass judgement on him."
"Eamon and his illness are another matter," Wynne said, glancing at Irving a moment. "If Jowan truly did use akinosia, we may not be able to help him. The demon is the only thing keeping him alive, as a bargaining chip against Connor."
"There's nothing you can do to help Eamon?" Teagan asked worriedly. Irving brooded a moment.
"We may be able to keep him alive, keep him in much the same state as the demon is now," he said after a moment. "However, it will only be temporary. A mage will need to be near him at all times to sustain the spell. We can hold him alive for a few days, possibly even as long as a week, but after that he will die. There is no cure."
"The Urn? Surely the Urn-"
"If it exists, and has the properties mythically ascribed to it, it has not been seen in Ages," Wynne said. "It would be a miracle if it were found at all, let alone as quickly as Eamon will need it."
"First thing's first," Irving said, and looked at Teagan. "Get that potion to Connor. Let's get the boy free of this demon, and then plot next steps."
Teagan headed off at speed toward the castle, the group of Wardens and mages following more sedately up to the castle gate.
"Do you think we can find the Urn before Eamon dies?" Alistair asked, falling into step beside Nike and speaking softly.
"I think I have a better chance of turning into Andraste myself, and defeating the Blight single-handedly with my nephew's toy bow, than of us finding that Urn," Nike said.
Instead of deflating as he usually did, Alistair shook his head. "We have to try, don't we? The Knights were all sent out. Some have returned. They may have come up with something that might help, some idea of where to look?"
"We can ask, Alistair," she said. "I just don't want you to get your hopes up. The chances of the Urn even existing are so slim, and we still have a Blight-"
"A Blight we need Eamon's men for," he said.
"The men don't vanish if Eamon passes, they'll simply become Teagan's men."
As Alistair's face reddened furiously Nike touched his arm. "I'm not trying to sound callous, Alistair. I'm simply trying to be realistic. Of course we'll try and save Eamon if we can. I know he's a good man, and he treated you well, even if Isolde did not."
"I just…losing Duncan, and now-"
"I understand," she said kindly.
He fell into silence a moment. Finally he said, "Do you know what the desire demon showed me?"
"No, I don't," she said.
"I was at Weisshaupt," he told her. "Duncan and the others, Jory and Daveth and all the rest- they were there, alive. So were you. No Blight. And it turned out my mother wasn't dead after all either. She was alive, and had come to see me. Eamon, Connor, they were there too."
"I'm sorry, Alistair," she said.
"I suppose it's good that you found Morrigan in that place and not me," he said. "I wouldn't have believed you. I'd have fought you rather than admit that…that none of it was real."
"I don't think you would have," Nike said. "I think you would have listened. It may have taken a little convincing, but I think you would have listened."
"I don't know that I agree, or that you even really believe that, but thank you," he said. "I suppose you-…"
He broke off and shook his head. She lifted a brow.
"What? You suppose I what?"
"It's none of my business. If you wanted to tell me you would have," he said. "I just thought that whatever the demon showed you was probably similar."
"Yes," Nike said. "I saw my family alive again. I was back home in Highever."
"And you saw through it. The illusion. You saw through it, and I didn't."
"I think the only reason I saw through it was because-"
-because Morrigan was there-
"-I had a head wound, and it kept bothering me. Really, it's no cleverer than that. My head hurt, and kept bleeding, and I couldn't remember why. It just made me think about things, trying to remember how I got hurt."
"Really?" he asked, and looked a little better. "I suppose it's lucky you hit your head then."
"Morrigan would have gotten us out," she said. "You want to point at the clever in our sad little ragamuffin group, that's where you'll find it."
He laughed a little. "It's just too bad all that clever is wrapped up in such a spooky package," he said. "I just keep waiting for her to change into that huge spider again and either bite my head off with those pincers or stab me a million times with that stinger."
"Don't be silly," Nike said. "She wouldn't bite your head off as a spider. She'd never get the taste out of her mouth. It'd be the stinger, for certain."
He gaped at her, then laughed when she grinned. "Yes, yes. Good point. You're probably right. I dunno. I just wish I knew why she hated me so much."
"Well, you did kind of think she was going to turn you into a toad when you first met her," Nike said.
"I'm still not convinced she won't," he said. "Doesn't matter, I suppose. She seems to get on with you at least."
"What can I say, it's my endless charm," Nike said, then touched his arm as they drew to a halt. They had reached the bridge that led into the Keep. The gates were slightly open, and she could see a pair of guards there, looking inward at where Teagan had gone. A third figure appeared a few moments later, taller than the guards by a full head, and he waved at them.
"A qunari?" Irving asked, slightly surprised.
"That's Sten, he's with us," Nike said, and they headed across the bridge.
"The boy is asleep," Sten said to Nike, ignoring the others. "I will take you to them."
They followed him up to the family quarters, and to Connor's room. Isolde, looking as if she'd aged another ten years in the short time they'd been gone, stood outside the door and eyed the mages with damp, hollowed eyes.
Teagan and Jowan were both at the boy's side, and Irving fixed on the maleficar.
"Jowan you will stand out of the way," Irving told him without preamble. "In the hall, with the Templar."
Jowan said nothing, only nodded his head deeply to the first Enchanter, then stepping into the hall. As he did, he looked intently at Nike, as if trying to remind her of her promise. Ignoring his gaze, she stepped in after the mages.
Irving went over to the boy limp on the bed, and touched his forehead. Wynne and the other mages brought in the cannisters of lyrium, gently setting them on a nearby table.
"The boy is resting comfortably," Irving said, and looked at Wynne. "I'll go in and confront the demon."
"That's not necessary," Wynne said. "We have not gone through the ordeal that you did. Any one of us could confront this demon. I am more than happy to-"
"I'll be fine," he said. "There is life and energy left to spare in these old bones. I will go in. The others will perform the ritual on this side. You, I would like to go in to Arl Eamon. It will be on you to keep him alive as I break the demon's hold on this side."
"As you wish," she said, inclining her head. As she stepped out Morrigan moved over to Nike.
"Well, they have the numbers to perform the ritual without my aid," she said. "Tis fortunate, for that demon. My irritation at its sister for enthralling us has not yet been assuaged."
"Let's go with Wynne to see to Eamon," Nike said. "If we can do little but watch, I'd rather watch in there with fewer bodies than be in the way here."
They departed Connor's room, Alistair and Sten following them. Jowan and the Templars were quietly waiting in the corridor, and Nike ignored them all as they followed Wynne toward Eamon's room.
The Arl's quarters were far more spacious. He lay upon his bed, covered with the duvet up to his neck. Nike frowned as she saw him. With the pale, still quality of his face he looked as if he were already dead. He had become so gaunt she could easily see the outline of his cheekbones, and even hints of his teeth through his lips.
Wynne touched his neck, then sat down with her own tiny vial of lyrium. Dipping her finger into it, she touched it lightly to his forehead, then her own. Humming softly to herself, she returned her hand to his forehead and closed her eyes.