Chapter Fifteen: Blood Ties

Jowan woke on the couch in Rillian's makeshift laboratory. He yawned and stretched, cracking his knuckles. He had on the same clothes he had been wearing last night: white mage robes that made him feel as if he had never been a Blood Mage at all. Fighting his addiction to Blood Magic had been hard – the hardest thing he had ever done – and was harder still with Merrill using it beside him without a care in the world. On Rylock's command Rillian had forbidden him from using Blood Magic during the war, even against the darkspawn – yet now Rylock was no longer here to watch her she openly praised Merrill for having used it to save their lives aboard The Siren's Call. Jowan sniffed and reflected on the unfairness of life: a favourite topic.

A soft moan of pain interrupted his soliloquy. Coming from the kitchen – where Ser Otto was boiling water to sterilize it for Rillian's research. Jowan winced in sympathy. Ser Otto was four weeks into his own withdrawal. The knight was too proud to complain, but Jowan knew pain when he heard it. During the war he had been paired with Ser Otto at Rylock's insistence. He had chafed under it – disliked the Templar for seeming to have everything while he had nothing – but Ser Otto had never been unkind. Not even when Jowan had lost his temper and attacked him with Blood Magic. Ser Otto had simply knocked him out with a mailed fist and then lied to Rylock, covering for him. Jowan thought about what he could do to help Ser Otto but drew a blank. As a Blood Mage, he had been unable to master the simplest healing spell. He specialized in entropy, struggled with thaumaturgy and primal spells, and could not cast from the creation school.

He found Rillian in the lab, where she had been experimenting with the sample she had taken from Corypheus. The memory of her appearance after the battle made him flinch. Jowan knew a person doesn't get that covered in blood just by fighting – she had played with Corypheus before she killed him. Jowan shuddered. He remembered the sting of his father's strap – the fists of the other boys – the smug bullying of certain Templars and the look in Uldred's eyes: hungry, like a praying mantis watching insects. They had all possessed the disease of cruelty and it was worrying to watch Rillian come down with the same condition.

The black blood in its suspension of blue lyrium appeared dead – yet the cells had multiplied.

"Warden-Commander," Jowan whispered, "That is not normal."

"Lyrium preserves the blood – a sample can survive for years without denaturing."

"Survive - but not grow."

Jowan was frustrated Rillian did not grasp the significance. She thought of herself as a scientist because she possessed the memories of one – but stolen memories were not the equivalent of having gone through the training herself. Rillian's knowledge was the equivalent of someone who has read it all in books but never practiced. He remembered a class with Senior Enchanter Uldred. Uldred had explained how all animals – including humans – had begun as single cells in their mother's womb. He had asked them to explain the difference between a single cell that would become a person and a droplet of blood which would not. Then, with chilling enthusiasm, he had asked them to discuss whether there were droplets of blood that could.

"May I take a look?"

Rillian hesitated – then nodded reluctantly and moved aside. Her manner was weirdly possessive.

Jowan studied the sample under the microscope and remembered the rest of that class. The cell structure was not totally alien. He had seen it before. After their discussion, Uldred had had his students study the remains of a hunger demon. He had not allowed any student to handle the sample, and had been incredibly careful. Uldred had explained the will of a demon could reside in a single drop of blood. A conscious creature could usually override it if they accidentally ingested some. Most animals could not. Dying, the Archdemon could transfer its mind into any nearby darkspawn but not a Grey Warden. As far as the Grey Wardens knew, neither could Corypheus, but Rillian – acting on instinct or warning – had sent him and Ser Otto away just in case. She had the right instincts - she just hadn't had the training to realise a single drop of blood could potentially be just as dangerous.

He tried to explain but she seemed to only half-listen. The way they had met – he had been at his lowest ebb and clearly in the wrong – had forever coloured her opinion of him. She might have listened to Ser Otto but the Templar was going through his own hell. She said,

"Your objections are noted, and I will never let the sample come into contact with any living creature."

Would that be enough? According to Uldred no demon could grow from a single drop of blood – the most they could do was hijack a living host - and everyone said taint was the same. And yet – these cells were multiplying...

"But we have more pressing concerns. I know there is an idol – a statue made of pure lyrium – that lies east. This statue is a vital piece of my research and we cannot delay."

"How do you know this?"

Rillian hesitated. The aura of cockiness vanished and for a moment she looked like the softer, more innocent young woman he had first met at Redcliffe Castle.

"I don't know. Sometimes memories – whether from Urthemiel or the Architect – bubble up, and I can't immediately put them in context. But I know I must not ignore these intuitions. We will leave tomorrow."

Jowan was, once more, in the Circle Tower – a scrawny, fear-sodden student who knew he would be made Tranquil if he could not master a simple light spell. The demon's offer had brushed his mind as lightly as the wings of a moth. So lightly he had not been able to place it – the thought of learning Blood Magic had seemed all his own idea. Just what had given Rillian the idea of looking for some mythical statue? Memories from The Architect or Urthemiel? Or – something else? Something that was more than a memory? He stared at the culture in its dish. He wouldn't have been surprised if Corypheus' face had started to grow in the centre of it.

Desperately, he tried, "I believe we should research this before taking any action. Ser Otto is not in a fit state to travel anyway. Wait until spring – the Vinmarks will be easier to cross."

Rillian gave a short, sharp sigh of irritation. "Sometimes I think you are too cautious to be a Grey Warden."

Sometimes I think you are too reckless to be a scientist...

Jowan had the sense not to voice the thought aloud. Rillian's temper had shortened since she had survived the Archdemon. He sighed and shook his head. Trudging out of the lab, his last sight was of Rillian peering down the microscope.

When you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you ...

Jowan recalled the words of the long-ago Anderfels philosopher. At the Circle Tower, they had discussed the meaning of the words. Thomas had believed they stemmed from the First Blight – that the unnamed philosopher had been one of the original Grey Wardens at Weisshaupt. Thomas had confided his secret dream to one day join the Order. He would have made a brilliant Grey Warden mage - far better than Jowan himself. But Jowan had taken that future from his friend, and now Thomas laboured in the Circle stockroom, void eyes blank as blue chips. And he had taken the future Lily should have had. Was she still at Aeonar, or had they released and sent her away, forever a stranger in a strange land? He would probably never see them again – the two he had so wronged – and he had no way of fixing his mistake. Rillian was lucky in that she had never done irrevocable harm to a friend. Could he prevent her doing so now?