Varric, as it turned out, was also one of the Inquisitor's 'friends'. According to him, he had been brought to the conclave by the Divine's Right Hand herself, to recount events leading up to the Champion of Kirkwall's disappearance.
Nyssa had been to Kirkwall shortly before its chantry had exploded four years ago. Zie had been tracking a relic that had found its way to the black market in Darktown, and zie had left with it just days before the catastrophe. In hindsight, it had been a good decision. Kirkwall had a regular influx of treasure hunters like the Lords of Fortune and crime organisations like the Carta, both who had been involved in hunting down the relic, and neither group had been pleased when zie stole it out from right under their noses.
Even if zie had never been to Kirkwall, zie would have heard of Varric Tethras; anyone who lived around the Free Marches knew of his books. Nyssa did not know what to expect, but Varric had an easy manner to him that made hir relax for the first time since zie arrived in Skyhold. It helped that he insisted on showing hir around the battlements first, where there were fewer people. Zie should have been embarrassed for hir anxiety to be so obvious, but zie was almost beyond caring at this stage.
"You're from Starkhaven, right?"
Nyssa tore hir gaze away from the view of the courtyard and back to Varric, who leaned against the wall of a nearby guard tower. "What makes you think that?"
"The accent," Varric said. He moved closer, leaning both elbows on the stone railing beside hir. "I knew a guy from Starkhaven. Shiny armour, big bow. Boring. So, who've you met so far?"
"The Inquisitor, of course," zie replied. "And Iron Bull, Dorian, Solas and Cole."
"Tiny, Sparkler, Chuckles and Kid," Varric mused.
"Just now I met Spymaster Leliana, Seeker Cassandra and Commander Cullen."
"Nightingale, Seeker and Curly. Right."
Nyssa smiled. "Do you give nicknames to everyone you meet?"
"Just the ones I work with," he said, and gestured for hir to follow him. "So, you haven't met everyone yet. I'm sure you'll get around to it. The Inquisitor's collected an interesting bunch, that's for sure."
"I'm not sure I'll get around to anything," Nyssa replied. "Skyhold is larger than I expected."
"You'll get used to it. Come on. I'll show you where your room is."
Nyssa's room was on the third level next to Varric's, as the spymaster had said.
When zie entered zie found what little possessions zie had left unpacked and put away, hir staff returned and hir books stacked neatly on a desk pushed against the right wall. There was a bed (far larger and more elaborate than zie needed), an armoire and even a mirror. A half-folded privacy screen stood at the back, behind which was a bathtub.
For an elf used to sleeping under the stars and washing in cold streams, privacy and hot water were luxuries zie had not experienced in a long time. It was almost enough to make hir uncomfortable, as if zie didn't deserve it. But the tub was right there, Nyssa thought, and cast it a longing glance. Zie was so dusty from travel… surely zie was meant to use it, if this room had been assigned to hir.
Whoever unpacked hir belongings had left a pitcher of water on an end table next to the bed, and a towel and cake of soap nearby. Zie knew very well how time consuming it was for baths to be drawn, even with the water pipes some wealthy Orlesian nobles had in their homes. Zie had taken many a cold wash in the cramped wooden tub in the servants' quarters, and only after the human servants had used the water. But here zie could use magic to fill hir own bath.
Nyssa poured the entire pitcher into the tub, removed hir vambraces and plunged hir hands into the water. Zie closed hir eyes and summoned hir magic, lips moving silently as zie cast. It was a simple multiplication spell, and one Keeper Elindra had taught hir years ago for practical reasons. Food had sometimes been scarce with the clan—using magic to increase food supply was risky, but it was better than the long, slow end of starvation.
When the tub was half full, zie redirected hir magic to heating the water, and once the water was steaming zie retrieved the soap and towel, stripped off and sank into the water with a sigh. This, at the very least, made it worth joining the Inquisition. Even the soap smelled nice.
Zie submerged herself up to hir chin, and it was lucky zie did, for at that moment the door to hir room creaked open and someone entered.
Nyssa crossed hir hands over hir chest and sat up, eyes flicking to hir staff resting against the far wall. Even hir dagger was too far away, tossed on the bed along with the rest of hir clothes. Zie hadn't even bothered drawing the privacy screen, thinking that a locked door would be sufficient. Clearly zie had forgotten to actually lock it.
"Who's there?" zie called sharply. There was the unmistakable sound of wood knocking against something hollow, then an elven girl with blonde curls appeared in Nyssa's view and curtsied.
"Begging your pardon, my lady."
Nyssa shifted uncomfortably in the tub, though hir nakedness was not the issue. "You don't need to bow to me. I am an elf, same as you."
"Erm… as you say, mistress." The girl gestured to the desk, where she'd set down a tray. "I brought food and drink. I didn't realise you'd asked for a bath first."
"I didn't," Nyssa replied. "I used a spell to make my own."
The girl's face drained of colour. "Oh." She backed up a few steps.
"Thank you," Nyssa called, but she was already gone, stammering an apology as she shut the door. Zie sighed.
The bath was a somewhat hurried affair after that.
Nyssa hadn't walked through the Planasene Forest for years, but it was much the same as the last time. Dark tangled vines covered massive tree trunks, and higher up, the branches were thick with spider webs. Mist covered the ground, turning the trees further away into vague shapes.
"You're late," said a voice from behind hir.
Don't flinch.
Hir mentor leaned against a nearby tree, arms folded. Violet eyes followed as zie offered the bundle to him. The artifact was solid enough, but he unwrapped it with the delicacy and caution reserved for a bag of gaatlok.
"The Orb of Fen'Harel," Nyssa said. "Your clan will be pleased."
"That they will." Gingerly he placed it in his bag. "You did well, da'len."
The compliment didn't please hir as much as zie thought. Nyssa dropped hir gaze, fiddling with hir scarf.
"Did I, Felassan?" zie asked into the quiet, and heard crunching footsteps as he approached. "I can't go back. My cover… they will be guarding the vault closely now. I had to kill a servant to escape."
Burning shame twisted in hir gut, but Nyssa swallowed hard and shoved it down. Zie couldn't think of it; not now.
Hir mentor circled around behind hir. His footsteps became heavier—too heavy for a slight, barefoot elf. The hair stood up on hir arms and the back of hir neck in a wave.
"You do not need to return… nor should you allow guilt to cloud your mind."
A touch on hir shoulder. Nyssa kept hir head down.
If I don't look up, zie thought, then I can't see what he looks like, and he can't harm me. Zie couldn't help seeing the hand on hir shoulder, though—and the twisted, blackened claws did not belong to the man zie knew. When he spoke, his voice echoed with a deep, dark power.
"You cannot save everyone," the not-Felassan said. "You cannot mourn for those who fell to a greater purpose."
This isn't how it happened, Nyssa thought. Zie turned around—
—and shot upright in hir bed, so abruptly the muscles in hir neck protested. The image of Felassan's face stayed on the inside of hir eyelids, twisted into a thing of black fire with too many eyes. Zie shuddered, blinked the sleep out of hir eyes and glanced around.
Hir room in Skyhold—still unfamiliar, but that would ease in time. Hir loose hair tumbled over hir shoulders, still damp from hir bath, and zie was dressed only in hir smallclothes. How long had it been? Zie had slept no more than a few hours, surely. Zie must have been tired indeed to fall asleep, let alone to dream.
Nyssa rolled off the bed, unmindful of hir state of undress, and began to pace. The meeting with the Inquisition's council had raised more questions than answers, and the nap had not calmed hir nerves any. Zie did not want to be right about the orb, but there was no denying what Solas had said. Somehow it had been delivered into this Elder One's hands, and if Felassan had been responsible—
"Fenhedis," zie muttered, then shook the dust off hir clothes and redressed. This was not what zie wanted to think about right now.
It was almost when Nyssa left hir room with clean hair and relatively dust-free clothes. Zie had only slept a few hours.
Zie had assumed Skyhold's residents to be mostly soldiers, given its use as a fortress, but there were less fighting men around than zie thought. Zie spotted construction workers on wooden scaffolding around the battlements, and servants running to and fro with buckets and trays. There were children playing in the lower courtyard, their laughter chasing messengers up the stairs. There were also merchants selling their wares near the stables—bolts of fabric, weapons, even trinkets and toys. The grounds were also teeming with wild plants, and zie found elfroot, embrium and even spindleweed behind the tavern.
Nyssa was heading back to hir room with a handful of herbs when zie spotted a large tent in the lower courtyard. Zie had glimpsed them when zie'd arrived, but had other concerns occupying hir at the time. Zie had wondered if they were temporary barracks, but clearly Skyhold had enough room to host at least five thousand soldiers, if not more. It wasn't until zie spotted the rows of cots that zie realised it was a healer's tent.
This was something zie could do; something zie was good at. The Inquisition would need more healers as its forces grew.
Nyssa took the stairs two at a time and strode into the area as if zie were meant to be there. The tent was sturdy enough, with oiled canvas flaps, but it might not be enough to keep the elements at bay when the winter came. Within seconds zie picked out the one in charge; a human woman standing over a table upon which a groaning man lay. She wore a heavy leather apron and was brandishing a crude-looking pair of forceps as she talked.
A surgeon. Nyssa pursed hir lips in annoyance.
A young human man stood by the surgeon's side dressed in robes, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else—though with the way the woman was lecturing him, perhaps that was understandable. He had a slightly greenish look, as if he were about to vomit.
The surgeon finally noticed Nyssa's approach and glanced up.
"If you've come to see me you'll have to wait," she said curtly. "There's soldiers who need treatment."
"I've come to help," Nyssa replied, and indicated the herbs zie had collected on hir walk. "I'm a healer."
The woman looked hir up and down. "You don't look like a healer. You join with the rebel mages?"
"Do I look like I'm from the Circle?"
"Suppose not." The surgeon looked impatient. "Look, I haven't got all day. There's a half dozen waiting and I was the only one." She jerked her head at the young man. "Least 'til I got saddled with Muggins here while the rest of the mages are 'negotiating' fair conditions with upstairs."
"I'm sure 'Muggins' can still be of use," Nyssa said dryly. "If he can make poultices out of elfroot. You can do that, can't you?" zie added, addressing the boy directly.
"Y-yes, er…" The boy looked hir up and down, then added hopefully, "Enchanter?"
Nyssa began to reply, stopped, then shrugged. "Yes, Enchanter will do, I suppose." Zie took a sprig of each herb from hir bundle and shoved it into his hands. "Go on, then." To the surgeon zie said, "What's happened to this man?"
"Not sure," the surgeon replied stiffly. "I set his leg two days ago. Put up a right royal fuss, he did—took the boy and one of the soldiers to help me hold him down."
Nyssa frowned. "Did you give him something for the pain?"
"No. I'm a surgeon, elf, and I'm all the Inquisition's got. At least until the robes finish demanding their extra blankets and pillows."
Humans! Not enough pain-relieving medicine, and too much waving around of knives and saws. Zie had seen enough of that in Val Royeaux. Nyssa stepped forward and rested the inside of hir wrist on the man's forehead.
Warm. Clammy. Rapid breathing. Zie knew the signs of a fever when zie saw one.
"You can help the boy," zie continued, and felt for the man's pulse. "If you're all the Inquisition's got, then you'd best start learning how to make a poultice."
The woman turned hir head and fixed Nyssa with an incredulous look. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Your surgeon's tools are not needed here."
"You can't just—"
"I can, and I will." Zie would never have dared spoken to a human this way in Val Royeaux; they would see hir strung up and kicking before they let a 'rabbit' disrespect them. "This man needs a healing spell, and I don't see you wielding a staff."
The surgeon frowned. "Magic is not to be relied upon for everything."
"Would you rather he lose his leg?"
After a few seconds of silent glaring, the surgeon shrugged and stepped away from the table.
"He's afraid," said a voice to hir left, and Nyssa jumped. Zie glanced around and saw Cole rising from beside a nearby cot.
"Cole," zie said, and smiled. The spirit-boy had remained for the week in the Exalted Plains, and zie still wasn't sure what to make of him, but he had a manner that zie found oddly endearing. Then what he said caught up to hir. "Oh, you can hear his thoughts?"
"Felt the leg break when my horse threw me," Cole replied, eyes fixed on the unconscious man. "White-hot then. Heavy, swollen, red pain now."
"Swollen?"
Cole nodded, and pointed to his right leg. Carefully Nyssa pressed on the limb, and the man twitched.
"Here," Cole said softly, and held out his hand. There was a small knife resting in his palm. Nyssa took it, and began to cut away the material of the man's trousers. Creators knew where the boy had found the knife, but the blade was so sharp it slid easily through the cloth. Zie had left hirs in hir room.
"May I ask you a question, Cole?"
"I wasn't always Cole," he said. He slid behind hir silently and walked to the other side of the table, peering so closely his hat brushed the top of the unconscious man's boots. "I came through to help. Then I came to warn them."
Nyssa shot him a puzzled look, then winced as the blade knicked hir finger. "Do you mean Ghil?"
"Ghil." Cole paused, licking his lips carefully, as if testing the name on his tongue. "Before, only Dorian called him that. He likes how the name fits in his mouth. And in yours."
"For different reasons, I'm sure." Nyssa peeled away the cut fabric and exposed a bruised, red and inflamed leg. "Ah, now I see what the surgeon meant. This must have been the broken leg. A bone infection, perhaps."
"Can you heal it?"
"Yes, with magic. If it were an arm or hand, I might splint it and let the bone heal itself, but… the Inquisition needs its soldiers walking."
Nyssa closed hir eyes and opened hirself up to the Fade, feeling its thrum and pulse around hir, extending hir senses beyond what zie could see or touch. Zie reached out, past skin, past tired muscle and pulled tendon, then—
There.
"A piece of bone," zie murmured. "Not a clean break as the surgeon supposed."
Cole leaned in close to the unconscious man and fell quiet for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall quickly.
"Sharp, stabbing pain like fire," he murmured. "Solas says this world is slow, sluggish, too heavy and real. Is that how your bones break so easily?"
"Not easily. It takes quite a bit of force to shatter a bone. Mostly they will snap." Nyssa glanced at him. "Solas knows a lot about the Fade, does he? And spirits?"
Cole nodded, blinking at hir with his pale eyes.
"Like you," he said, head tilted, as if zie were a curious puzzle to be solved. "Salt and spice on the sea breeze, a girl who isn't a girl."
It was slightly unnerving, to have a spirit interact with hir in this world—there was no magic that could read minds, yet apparently Cole could reach into hir thoughts and pluck out memories. Nyssa returned hir attention to the displaced bone chip and manipulated it slowly back into place. If zie concentrated hard enough, perhaps zie could conceal hir slight discomfort.
He meant well, no doubt, but there were memories zie would rather not share with a stranger. Zie also had the feeling Cole didn't quite know how to tell which memories should be left undescribed.
"A spirit of joy," Nyssa said reluctantly, gaze dropping. "She was under the protection of the seer who trained me. I learned how to heal with the aid of spirits there, in Rivain. It was a while ago."
Cole straightened, then circled around behind hir, blinking curiously at the magic pouring from hir hands. "Yes. Cole was like you. He wanted to be normal."
"I see."
"You don't… but it's alright. Solas says the Dalish don't trust spirits any more than they do demons."
'Solas says', again. Nyssa shook off the faint unease and cleared hir mind. Zie cast hir spell, eyes slipping shut. Slowly the bone began to knit back together, and the fluid evaporated. When the last sliver of bone clicked into place zie opened hir eyes and exhaled, unsurprised to find zie was sweating. Healing spells were rarely easy—especially when it came to knitting bone. Flesh and muscle could be stitched back together, but bone took weeks to heal without magic.
"Hot, dull, aching pain," Cole murmured.
Nyssa nodded. "He'll need a poultice now, to soothe redness and hurt. If I could—" zie looked up, paused, and glanced around. Cole was nowhere to be seen.
"Here," said a voice behind hir, and zie jumped. Cole circled around hir, a bowl held in one hand, and a roll of linen bandages in another. Zie took them with a nod of thanks and began to apply the mixture.
Behind hir, the surgeon let out a curse and said, "Where the hell did my poultice go?"
Nyssa stifled an amused snort and tried to focus on the task.
"You don't have to be here if you're bored," zie said after a few moments.
"I'm not bored," Cole said. "I'm learning."
"You can learn by watching?"
He blinked up at hir. "That's how you did it."
Nyssa bit hir tongue and said nothing.
Once the leg was bandaged, zie enlisted the mage boy to help hir carry him to a cot. The surgeon came over, picking bits of elfroot leaves off her fingers.
"What was it?" she asked.
"A chip of bone worked loose from the break," Nyssa said. An awkward silence followed. Zie could practically see the cogs turning in the woman's head—one of them would have to concede. From the look on the surgeon's face, she would be loathe to admit she had missed the chip when she first set the leg. For all they knew, it had worked loose because she and the mage boy had not given the man a sedative before setting the leg.
In Orlais, such a mistake would never be allowed to pass without comment. No Orlesian would pass up an opportunity to take advantage for their own personal gain… but this was not Orlais, and Nyssa would likely be working with this woman for months to come.
"I would also have missed it, without magic," Nyssa said, although zie did not entirely believe it. "And without Cole's help."
The surgeon frowned. "Who?"
Nyssa glanced to hir left, but Cole was nowhere to be seen.
"Never mind. Did you say there were more healers joining us at some point?"
"Yes, if they ever finish complaining about their rooms." The surgeon rolled her eyes. "For now, it's the two of us. Most of our work comes down to minor injuries and venereal disease. Tonics and potions are beyond me." She threw up her hands in exasperation. "A soldier comes with pus leaking from Maker-knows-where and I'd just as soon tell him to remove the whole thing. You can imagine how well that goes down."
Nyssa laughed. "In that case, you can send them to me."