Niall had woken up far later in the day than he usually did. Sleeping in meant two things, he'd spend the rest of the day with a dull pain in his head and the library would already be crowded by the time he got there.
He picked up his robes from the heap he had left them in on the floor the night before. That had always driven Godwin mad when they shared their quarters but he'd never managed to convince Niall that creased robes were a pressing issue and so Niall's bad habit had persisted.
'A Defence Against Dreamwalkers' was sitting on the edge of his dresser. It had been an interesting read once he'd managed to go back and liberate it from its place on the misused bookshelf. Unfortunately, there had barely been anything in it with any relevance to his own research – but still, a good read was a good read. Plus, it hadn't been completely useless – it had briefly mentioned a type of enchanted cowl that amplified mental resistance. He'd made a mental note to check the stockrooms for one.
In truth, he'd spent the last couple of days squirrelled away in his quarters, his nose buried in that tome. Something seemed off in the tower recently and it unnerved him that he didn't know what or why. That feeling of unease had been simmering for some time then a few nights ago, his midnight not-quite-encounter with the apprentice had only amplified it.
It was probably nothing.
He reassured himself, abruptly abandoning that train of thought and setting off for the library. He just remembered to grab the book from his dresser as he left.
-o0o-
The library was as busy as he'd expected. He groaned inwardly at the lack of empty desks to work at as he made his way to where he needed to return his book.
"Afternoon, Niall." he heard someone call to him and he realised he had underestimated just how late he'd slept in.
He turned and saw Enchanter Leorah break into a slight jog for the duration of the few steps it took her to catch up with him.
"Hello there," he smiled widely. Leorah had always liked him which had come in handy when he was an apprentice failing to turn in his assignments on time. She grinned back at him with a knowing glint in her eye that made Niall slightly nervous. Before he had chance to question her, she blurted out her news.
"I saw the First Enchanter this morning," she was practically giddy, "I am officially being promoted to Senior Enchanter."
"That's wonderful." he dropped his book down onto a nearby desk, earning him a glare from the red haired mage working there, and pulled her in for a hug. He felt a swell of pride in her – she was a talented mage who just tended to suffer from a lack of confidence.
When they broke apart the glint in her eye was still there,
"There's more…"
He took her pause to mean she expected him to have guessed what the more was but he had no idea.
"You," she said, losing faith in his guessing abilities, "I get to recommend someone for promotion to Enchanter and I chose you."
Oh Maker's blasted balls…
"Woah," he managed, "I don't know what to say. Er… thank you. I – you really recommended me?"
"Of course, I did." she beamed. "Anyway, I have to run now or I'll be late – we're singing the benedictions in the chapel in – oh dear, right now. Bye, dear. I will try to come find you later."
By the time she finished her sentence she was already half-way out of the door, leaving Niall standing there dumbfounded. Sure, Irving had mentioned in passing that he might be ready to teach apprentices but he had assumed the man had, at best, just been making polite conversation or at worst, musing about the very distant future.
The problem wouldn't be the teaching per se - although Niall fully expected he would resent how much that would eat into his research time. No, the problem was the Circle itself. It was hard enough keeping his head down as it was, without beginning the daunting climb up through the Circle's hierarchy. The idea of having the fraternities vying for him sent a chill through his spine.
Then there was the other thing. The thing that none of the mages ever spoke about or acknowledged even to themselves – all the apprentices who would never become mages.
He thought back to his own days as an apprentice. About a year into his time at the Circle, when Niall was still only a child, Leorah had started teaching his Introduction to Elemental Magic class. Maker, he had been hopeless at it. When all the other apprentices had mastered their Winter's Grasp, Niall couldn't even make anyone feel slightly chilly. Instead of chastising him, which had been Enchanter Sweeney's preferred method of instruction, Leorah had been patient. They had spent hours together, studying one-on-one, Niall sometimes finding tears burning in his eyes that formed from sheer frustration. The day when he'd finally mastered that spell, he'd been so happy that without thinking, he'd run over to Leorah and hugged her as tightly as he could.
Now he was older – Niall knew two things were true. Firstly, without tutors like that, who were willing to pour so much of themselves into teaching, so many more apprentices would fail their harrowing. And secondly, he could never invest so much of himself in the apprentices. He freely admitted to himself that that made him a coward, but it didn't matter. The thought made his stomach churn. The thought of spending day after day watching those children grow and learn, all the while keeping such a dreadful secret from them – that one day a templar would wake them during the night, lead them to that Maker-forsaken chamber, and –
No.
He refused to let any memories of the harrowing occupy his thoughts for even a moment. But he did know he needed to speak to the First Enchanter before anything was made official. He was flattered by the recommendation but he could not be promoted to Enchanter, he just couldn't.
-o0o-
Niall raised his hand to knock on Irving's door then paused. There were voices coming from the other side of the door.
"I am afraid that is all we can offer." the stern voice was unmistakably the First Enchanter's.
"It simply isn't good enough." a muffled woman's voice followed but it wasn't one he recognised.
Subconsciously, Niall leant in towards the door to hear better.
"The Ferelden army is vast," Irving replied, "and I have agreed to send some of the tower's most experienced mages. You will have more than enough to bolster your forces at Ostagar when the time comes."
Great, he thought as his self-awareness suddenly returned, Now I'm eavesdropping on military strategies – brilliant idea.
Just as he took a step back, intending to return later, the office door swung open. Niall looked down and started adjusting the cord belt of his robes, trying to look as though he hadn't been listening but most likely convincing no one.
Irving stood in the doorway beside a woman in full heavy armour.
"Ah, Niall, were you coming to speak with me?"
"Yes, First Enchanter."
"I am afraid I have an appointment imminently. But would you be so kind as to Ser Cauthrien here to our guest quarters."
"Er – of course."
"Splendid. You may come and find me later if there was something important you wished to discuss."
As soon as the woman stepped out of the doorway, Irving closed the door to his office with a little more force than was probably necessary, leaving Niall staring somewhat blankly at her. She was tall and broad shouldered, her imposing presence bolstered by the huge greatsword on her back. Despite living in the tower meaning he was used to the Templars wandering around fully armed, he couldn't help but feel slightly unnerved by her whole presence.
"I take it you do know where the guest quarters are?" she said, making him acutely aware that he'd just spent far too long silently looking her over.
"Er – yes," he found his composure, "Yes, of course, follow me."
They walked in silence as he led her through the tower. She didn't walk in step with him, instead she lingered a few paces behind. The few times he glanced back to check she was still following, he'd seen her eyes darting around the tower, as though she was taking in as much of it as she could.
"Here you are," he gestured vaguely around the guest room, "If there's anything you need just stick your head outside the door, there are always templars roaming around, they'll sort you out."
She just nodded in response so Niall turned to leave. But as he did so she asked him,
"Do you know a mage by the name of Wynne?"
"Senior Enchanter Wynne – yes, I do. I mean, everyone knows the Senior Enchanters really."
The woman's voice dropped slightly,
"What's she like?"
Niall felt his eyes go wide, he must have looked like a startled fennec.
"Wynne? She's -" he took a moment to choose his words carefully, "server." It wasn't that he disliked Wynne, not really. It was more that he was ever-so-slightly terrified of her.
"Server, how?" she pressed for more detail and Niall found himself bristling slightly at being questioned so pointedly.
"She's just not someone I'd want to be on the wrong side of. I skipped benedictions once when I was an apprentice and the dressing down she gave me afterwards still haunts me."
He'd meant that light-heartedly, as an attempt to break the tension but instead the woman's face twisted into a slight frown.
"What about Senior Enchanter Uldred?"
Irving's words from earlier echoed in his mind, I have agreed to send some of the tower's most experienced mages. So – Wynne and Irving must be being sent to fight alongside King Cailin's army. She must be looking for some kind of reassurance about their skill. He shifted into diplomatic mode,
"Wynne and Uldred are both really powerful mages. Wynne's a talented healer and I think Uldred specialises in spirit magic." she was listening to him with an intensity that made him uneasy.
In a second ill-fated attempt to ease the tension he added,
"Although, Uldred's a lot more likely to chastise you for going to chapel than for skipping it."
When his joke failed to make her gaze any less piercing, Niall decided it was time he left and headed back in the direction of the library.