A dog might slink back to the hand it has bitten

And be forgiven, but a slave

Never.

Shartan 9: 27-30

Maevaris Tilani put the missive she'd just received on her desk, then stared blankly ahead, looking though Dorian, rather than at him.

'The waiting,' she whispered, 'is killing me.'

'I know,' he kindly answered. 'Me too.'

The woman cradled her forehead in her long, well manicured fingers, and sighed deeply.

'How you could let him do this…'

'It's not exactly as though he asked for permission, Mae,' Dorian replied, a bit reproachfully.

'Yes,' she aggressively muttered, 'yet in situations of manifest insanity, I think the best advised course of action is whacking the individual over the head, and keeping him tied up until his mind clears. Harder, in Varric's case, but it could have been done…'

The Chantry's forces had taken a bit longer to assemble than had been originally anticipated; perhaps it had been shock at Kirkwall's open and suicidal defiance, perhaps additional plans and coordination had had to be devised, but the siege on Kirkwall had now been going on for the best part of two weeks. Normally, given the fact that the city was hardly prosperous, neither Dorian nor Mae had expected for it to last even this long – and maybe, but for unexpected aid coming from the very least likely of places, it might not have.

And yet…

Arlathan had somehow managed to find and reactivate an eluvian within the city. They'd not exposed themselves by outright giving troops, which was only to be expected, as the Elvhen city-state did not truly possess any, and needed to focus on its own defences. However, in an unprecedented gesture of goodwill, Abelas had allowed supplies from Tevinter to pass though the eluvian network, and even given five more travelling mirrors, so that the supplies could be distributed in various areas of the city. Kirkwall was at least not starving, and, as long as its ancient walls withstood the relentless assault of two armies, its commoners were still protected from worse.

The Ferelden fleet had not had better luck than its land troops, for, in an equally unexpected move, a rag-tag assortment of pirate ships and a few rickety, age old Qunari dreadnoughts had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and led a very successful harassment campaign. The former, Dorian guessed, was Antiva's doing, though no ship was outright flying the Felicissima Armada's banners. The latter could only have been the Bull's. It was all truly odd, but had, thus far, proven effective, for the improvised fleet either pushed Ferelden's ships into Kirkwall's fearsome port chains, or took out any ship that dared stray from formation, and vanished into the mists.

Reason for moderate optimism, Dorian might have thought, under different circumstances – circumstances that did not dictate that Kirkwall was simply bait, and would have to fall, sooner or later.

It was all more personal to Maevaris, though, for her friendship to Varric went far deeper than even Dorian's own. Since the entire madness had started, she'd not ceased petitioning that Tevinter lend more aid than supplies; a phalanx or ten, and a small contingent of mages would not be missed, she'd argued to anyone who would listen, yet very few had, and even those had blankly turned down her pleas.

The Imperium had officially recognised Andraste, thus could not lend troops to any war effort against her. Not unless she overtly went after Arlathan; yet, whomever was doing the planning on Andraste's side – and Dorian suspected it was Leliana - had been smart enough not to mount a significant effort there. Or at least, not until they were done with Kirkwall.

Dorian sighed.

'What does he write?' he asked of Mae; the woman gave him as a vile a glance as he had ever attracted from her.

'That he could seriously use a contingent of flying cows, with or without wings…Bloody hell, Dorian, what do you think he's writing? That he is holding up, but that he wishes we would – and I quote – get our shit together a bit faster. Also, to hold off on the turnip transports, lest his people defeat the assembled armies of Starkheaven and Ferelden by the stench of their farts alone… can we at least not tell him that we're working on it?'

The Magister sorrowfully shook his head. 'You don't know Leliana. If she or her people intercept even a message of that sort, she'll make Vael scream treachery on top of his lungs; Orlais will have no excuse to dither, anymore, and Antiva and Nevarra…'

'I know, I know…' Maevaris resentfully muttered. 'I'm simply venting, not in need of a lesson in geography. Just, Gods, I wish Vel's pet would wake up faster, so we could give Varric the all clear to surrender. His people may not be starving, but his soldiers are still dying every day this guy naps.'

'It's not exactly a nap, Mae,' Dorian said. 'Well, what do you want?' he helplessly shrugged, rolling his eyes in exasperation. 'All elves - and I mean all - assure me that allowing him to linger in uthenara for as long as it is needed is the quickest way forward. You've not seen the man,' he followed, shaking his head. 'He's not eaten in a year, and he's been either chained to a post, or locked in a three foot by three foot cage for the duration – he is literally wasted. Besides, I do not know what Mystery and Contemplation actually did to him, but those new tattoos of his look very suspicious. I am unsure that snapping our fingers and ordering him awake would do any good.'

'Well, him sleeping for three hundred years will not do us any good either,' Mae smirked. 'Plus, sweetheart, I don't know if you've noticed, but the longer Veldrin holds vigil over the man, she is starting to look like a ghost of herself.'

Dorian leaned forth, and took a small sip of tea, then put his cup back on the table, saying nothing, because there was nothing to say. He felt Maevaris' temptation to push, but he was reluctant to admit that he'd been increasingly worried about Veldrin since Solas had been hidden in the Pavus mansion, three weeks past.

Solas slept deeply; she barely slept at all, doting over the man, and only allowing Dalish to replace her when she could literally no longer stand. He'd not been allowed too close – no human had, as if whatever had been going on behind the closed doors of Veldrin's apartments had been the last secret of the Elvhen nation, and neither of the two women would let a human even catch a glimpse of whatever it was…

Whatever it was that made Solas visibly recover, day after day, but made Veldrin fade away at the same pace.

'Let's…Let's just give them another two weeks or so,' he said, feeling unsure of the wisdom in his own words.

'I don't think that for all his gushing optimism Varric has that long, sweetness; Ferelden could up their game at any moment, this false prophet could start manifesting her true strength…And even if none of that occurs, I doubt Solas' magic will return to him like…like poof! Magic!...thus, even more time will be needed,' Mae grumbled. 'I don't want Varric's head on a pike, Dorian,' she said, standing and wistfully glancing out the window. 'You do not know what I owe him.'

'No,' the man admitted.

Mae closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, but though she struggled to keep her sadness out of her voice, it was still there when she next spoke.

'I'm also losing my grip closer to home,' she whispered. 'Our fraction wants us to stand on principle, and stop the subterfuges…If Kirkwall is our ally, and this Andraste is not who she says she is, then we should speak it out loud. My ears in Cassius' fraction intimate that his herd of bloodthirsty goons wants the same, albeit for very different reasons.'

Dorian groaned in dismay.

'Let me guess. Orlais is keeping its eye on Ferelden, and not on us. If we moved against them now, with the dragons at our side…'

'…although it is apparent to me that if the dragons had intended that, that's what the Imperium would be doing.' Maevaris nodded. 'And therefore, Dorian, honey, a bigger and more baffling question arises…'

There was a knock on the door, and Mae spun on herself in irritation.

'Did I not just say that I shan't be disturbed?'

'Magistra Tilani,' her human secretary spoke, from behind the still closed doors, 'there is a human Liberata here who insists on an audience.'

'I have an hour free on Wednesday at ten,' Mae snapped. 'Tell her to come back then – and put the name in the registry correctly this time…what's her name, anyway? Just in case you misspell it again…'

'Mistress Calpernia, Magistra Tilani – and I shall put her in for ten…'

'Calpernia?' Mae asked, her eyes suddenly growing wide; Dorian arched an eyebrow, in silent question.

'Venatori agent,' Maevaris whispered. 'Dangerous Venatori agent,' she added, in the same low tone. 'Very well, let her through now,' Mae said, out loud.

'Are you insane?' Dorian asked, for his friend's ears only.

The door was already open however, so Maevaris was not the only one to hear him – the woman who had just walked in did not react as Dorian had expected her to, and she appeared neither flustered nor humble.

'Magister Pavus,' Calpernia greeted, in an even voice. 'Magistra Tilani.'

She stood in the doorway, politely waiting to be called forth, while Mae's secretary peeked around the corner, with no small note of curiosity in his eyes. He did not know, Dorian guessed, whether he should have closed the door behind the uninvited guest or keep it open, just in case the visit would be brief, and he'd be forced to stand from his desk twice in a minute.

'Mistress Calpernia,' Mae said, 'it is good to finally meet someone who has caused me no end of troubles for the first time.'

She sensuously leaned forward, crossing her arms on the head of her seat, and arching her back, like a feline in mid-stretch. 'Say something interesting, fast, or I'll disintegrate you where you stand. I have been waiting for the opportunity for over a decade…'

'I shall,' Calpernia indifferently replied, 'but my price will be high.'

'You think to bargain, do you?' Mae shot back.

'I do, Magistra, yes.' The other woman answered simply.

'Uh, just in case anyone wants to know,' Dorian put in, 'I'm very much leaning towards the disintegration; it's an involuntary reflex that I get when I hear the word Venatori…Differently put, speak first, and bargain later, my lady?'

Calpernia measured him with cold curiosity, but then shifted her glance back to Maevaris'.

'I want an Altus position,' she said, clearly enunciating each word. 'Either of you, or Magistra Pavus will be suitable.'

Behind the pale, dull-eyed human, Mae's secretary looked as if he'd been about to faint.

'So…this is like a spy exchange?' Maevaris chuckled. 'We have Altus Hadrian in Cassius' home base, he wants us to accept you…'

'I'm not on speaking terms with Magister Cassius. Not anymore.' Calpernia interrupted. 'Not since he assaulted me, he beat a dear friend within an inch of his life, and I have obtained concrete proof that I have been taken for a fool.'

The two Magisters exchanged a quick glance.

'Interesting,' Dorian said. 'Elaborate?'

'I will only answer questions once my price has been met or at least considered, the door has been closed, and I've been offered a seat.'

'By all means, Mistress Calpernia,' Dorian said, standing in courteous sign of good breeding, and gesturing towards the chair next to his; he equally wondered if Mae's secretary could have turned any whiter, but wished to spare the man further perplexity, so he equally gestured for the doors to be closed. He stopped the man in mid gesture, though. 'What would my lady like for a refreshment?' Dorian asked.

'Rye liquor, twice distilled, no younger than ten years aged…'

'…aaand we'll have twelve of those, only of the eighteen years of age variety,' the Magister laughed.

'Magister Pavus,' Calpernia said, only now caught off guard, 'I…'

'I trust we've met your price, Mistress Calpernia,' Mae answered, straightening.

'Not my main one,' the grey-eyed woman responded. 'My main interest is obtaining an Altus position.'

'It is entirely dependent on how persuasive we'll find you,' Maevaris shrugged, measuring the other woman though half-lidded eyes. 'And sadly, I am not a firm believer in sudden epiphanies, thus…'

'Still, there's no law to preventing you from gaining an Altus position,' Dorian said, giving his friend a quick glance, to warn her from scaring Calpernia away.

'Customs, on the other hand…' Calpernia began, this time, with a trace of hesitation in her voice.

'My lady, neither myself nor Magistra Tilani give a…oh, excuse me…well…Neither of us could care less about customs,' the Magister replied. 'We have an Elvhen Magister, though none has ever before existed, and Tidarion started a long line of Laetan Archons. Customs change.'

Calpernia bitterly nodded. 'That is,' she said, 'what the Elder One had promised, and why I faithfully followed his cause. It has, however become obvious to me,' she followed, repressing her anger with visible difficulty, and clenching her fists by her side, 'that this promise was void. As such…'

'As such,' Maevaris interrupted, taking her seat, 'it has occurred to you that one side may give you what the other did not?'

'Indeed, Magistra Tilani.' The human female responded, regaining control over her voice.

'I must say your interview is not progressing well thus far, Mistress Calpernia,' the Magistra coldly replied. 'You are not only a self-confessed turncoat, but one who has killed at least three of my agents…'

'Who had been sent to kill me,' Calpernia answered. 'I also do not consider myself a turncoat for leaving a fraction that solely intended to use me, without ever keeping their word to me and my fellow Liberati. I never knew that ambition was ill-regarded in this land,' she quipped, making Dorian chuckle lightly.

'I don't remember it being ill regarded, either, no. Have a seat, please,' he once more invited, waiting until Calpernia stiffly and uncomfortably sat on the edge of her chair to sit back down himself.

He looked down at his hands.

'This Elder One of yours has destroyed many a good man with false promises,' Dorian said, looking out the window. 'You've chosen a perfect time to visit, Mistress Calpernia.'

'Oh yes, she has,' Mae growled. 'If you hadn't been here, I would have tossed her out the door in a very small satchel.'

'My choice of timing was not a work of sheer good fortune,' Calpernia answered. 'Many disappointed friends and allies of mine walk these corridors. I knew you would be here, Magister Pavus, and I know of your losses...'

She might have spoken further, yet the drinks that Dorian had ordered arrived, and Mae's secretary let himself and the two slaves carrying the trey in unannounced; the two slaves were barely balancing the tray, and the secretary was still looking as if he had been witnessing the most implausible event since the dragons' landing. The drinks did make it to Mae's desk un-spilled, and were rapidly off-loaded, in sign that the tray itself was needed elsewhere – Dorian still managed to toss two coins upon it, once it had been emptied.

'And that's for them, not for you,' Dorian warned, noting that Mae's scribe was eyeing the gold with utter, shameless greed. 'Thank you, you may retire,' he said. 'And this time, lock the door, do not just close it. So…Mistress Calpernia,' he followed, reaching for the many cups, and grabbing two, 'you were about to say…?'

'Th…thank you,' Calpernia stuttered, accepting the cup that Dorian offered with trembling fingers. She took a sip of the liquor and coughed into her hand, tears stinging at her eyes. 'Gods, this is…a…bit…strong.'

'The sip of the drink, or merely the taste of equality?' Mae inquired, the cold not leaving her eyes.

'Both,' Calpernia responded, evenly.

She sat the cup aside, and straightened her back even further.

'I would not be here,' the grey eyed-woman said, 'if proof of how I have been mislead and how I might have been treated in the service of the Elder One had not been given to me, in an irrefutable manner. I have recently learned of the fate of the corrupted Templar called Samson. I have equally learned what his part in the Elder One's plan he was meant to play…A part I might have been destined for, had your wife, the Magistra Pavus leaned towards Templars and not mages.'

'We did no harm to Samson, once he surrendered,' Dorian said. 'From there he'd gone, there was no true return –he did end his days in some semblance of comfort.'

'But a month past I would have taken your words for bold faced lies,' Calpernia replied. 'No longer, though.'

She slightly bowed her head.

'Magistra Pavus and Altus Hadrian have no reason to hold the elf Gladius dear, but they showed him kindness nonetheless. I…am grateful for it, though he most likely is not.'

'Touching,' Mae scoffed.

Calpernia took another sip of her drink, without chocking, this time, and coolly sustained the Magistra's cutting, blue stare.

'I had previously dismissed rumours of the Inquisition's magnanimity towards Samson as propaganda,' she said, looking ahead, blankly. 'If I had known that the armour that the Elder One had created for him and kept his lyrium addiction from killing him before he could learn all that he could about breaching the Veil from the Well of Sorrows…'

'And how would you learn about any of that, Mistress Calpernia?' Dorian asked, leaning back in his chair. 'That was only held within the highest level of the Inquisition's command.'

'Well,' she shrugged, 'that is probably where I have it from. A hooded individual let himself easily into my home three weeks ago. Probably assuming that I was still in Magister Cassius' thrall, he felt the need of filling me in on these small details. In exchange for detailed schematics and guard placements of Magister Cassius' mansion.'

Mae reached for a drink, but did not touch it, instead knitting her fingers around the cup, and resting both her elbows on the table.

'Which you provided.'

'Yes.'

'Why, may I ask?'

'Because,' Calpernia responded, minutely shifting her stiff chin to the side to once more meet Maevaris' glance, 'it was only then that I understood that the Elder One had the same fate in store for me. The dome of truth under which your enemy currently resides was designed for me, had I been in Samson's stead.'

She finished her cup, and resolutely set it on the table.

'I gave up the plans of Cassius' mansion hoping that my visitor's intention was that of killing him. It sadly appears that it was not, hence, I am here.'

Calpernia remained as silent and as stiff as a statue for the moment that followed; she lowered her glance to her tightly clenched hands.

'So, in the end,' Maevaris said, 'your price is not an Altus posting, Mistress Calpernia. It is simply revenge.'

'They are one and the same, Magistra Tilani.'

Dorian and Mae looked at each other over the table; Calpernia did not lift her chin.

'I am so deeply sorry,' Dorian said, simply; the woman briefly nodded, and stood – she almost jumped three feet back when he stood as fast as she did. 'You misunderstand,' the Magister told her, stepping back, as if he wished not to frighten her further. 'I simply meant to say that I am sorry for all that you have been put through.'

'Dorian?' Mae asked, narrowing her eyes in surprise; he bid her to wait with one wave of his hand.

'Mistress Calpernia,' he softly spoke to the startled, grey-eyed woman, 'if you could give us a few minutes alone?'

The small spark of hope in Calpernia's eyes immediately dulled, and the statue-like stiffness returned.

'Just a few, my lady, please,' Dorian soothingly said. 'If you wish to remain here, we'll just briefly go into the library; we definitely do not wish you to leave. Just…just remember that only three more of those cups are yours, yes?'

Calpernia nodded and sat back down, in practiced obedience; Mae, on the other hand, nervously stood, and strode to the adjoining library with wide and belligerent steps, barely waiting for Dorian to get out of the way before she violently slammed the door.

'Would you care to explain…' she hissed.

'Yes,' Dorian said, arching both eyebrows. 'She's telling the truth.'

'I'm not even going to consider…'

'Listen to me,' he whispered, delicately catching her arm, but firmly holding it to prevent her from turning away. 'You said yourself that Cassius' senatorial fraction is behaving out of sorts, yes?'

'So?' Mae angrily asked.

'Connect the dots, Mae,' Dorian said, between clenched teeth. 'Why would the dragon worshippers suddenly be muttering against their Gods? Unless they suddenly lost respect for them – not fear of them, mind you, just respect?'

The blonde woman shook her head, but ceased trying to get away from him.

'Unless they've been informed of what they actually are,' the man followed, in the same low tone. 'And that knowledge, along with the knowledge of Samson's armour, could only come from one source, Maevaris.'

'Piss.'

'Well, I would not call Leliana that,' Dorian frowned. 'But I see that both our bright minds have reached the same conclusion, thus, she is not lying. Nor was she lying…about Gladius,' he forced himself to say. 'Veldrin and Lexi did save his life, and Gods, Mae…I look at this woman and I see Veldrin.'

'There is nothing of Vel in that woman, Dorian, and you know it – if that woman had had a chance to kill Vel, or you, she would have done so without remorse, and she would not be regretful now, once she realised she was screwed over…'

'Maybe. But I genuinely do not care,' He said. 'I see Veldrin's ambition, and Veldrin's pain in her; I see a worthy person, suffering under a wrong custom, and…'

'…and if you take her as Altus, it will be your funeral, Dorian.' Mae said, incredulously shaking her blonde curls.

'Alright.' Dorian nodded, opening the library door and inviting Maevaris to leave before he did – he lingered in the doorway beholding Calpernia for just a second longer.

Her robes were the best money could buy, on second hand. Her hair was cut by a second hand hairdresser. Her skin was sallow and grey, her nails short, yet, even so, uneven. And she was clenching on her robes as a drowning man might have clenched to a slippery rope, dead, iron coloured eyes downcast…

'My roster for Altus is full,' Maevaris said, royally settling in her chair; Calpernia nodded, in bitter surrender. She had expected nothing else.

'Mine has two or three spaces,' Dorian said, settling into his chair in turn, and making her look up in utter confusion. 'Magistra Pavus employs no Altus whatsoever, to date. We can draw papers for your inspection, Mistress Calpernia, leaving the choice of a Magister for you to fill in. Either me, or my wife will be glad to have you, not only because you caused Magistra Tilani such vexation, but because we are both glad Gladius has at least one friend in the world.'

Calpernia reached for one of the cups and drank it to the bottom in one breath.

'Just like that?' she breathed. 'You would…just like that…'

'My funeral,' Dorian shrugged.

I guess it is obvious we liked Calpernia :)

Thank you for reading and commenting,

Cheers,

Abstract & IVI