Hiatus
Our business in Val Royeaux ended up taking longer than expected. First, there were merchants who wished to open trade with the Inquisition, who stopped us after the debacle in the market. Varric spent an afternoon working out basic terms while the rest of us played a scavenger game with some group called "The Friends of Red Jenny." The game led us, in the evening, to an area of town where a group of people who apparently held some grudge against the Inquisition were meeting. A young woman named Sera introduced herself while we all busied ourselves killing people who attacked us on sight. Why we were being attacked was a question I never did learn the answer to. It didn't matter once all our attackers were dead.
Cassandra had reservations when Sera asked to join us, but she could undeniably use a bow, and, after the standoff with the demon in the market earlier, I was feeling a little exposed. I invited her to join our group, reasoning that if the other leaders didn't want her, at least we would have someone else joining us on the journey back to Haven.
Then, as we were finally leaving the city, a mage named Fiona - apparently important within the now-disbanded Circles - found us and asked if we would meet her in Redcliffe. That prompted us to remain for another night while Cassandra wrote hasty notes to Leliana and Josephine, and waited for their replies.
Varric used the delay to take me shopping. Though my clan had contact and some trade with humans, I had never, myself, been inside a shop. Most of the goods on display, it turned out, held little significance for me, though Varric tried to interest me in various things, particularly fabrics, testing the colors against my skin to see what suited me. Perhaps he would have succeeded had I been able to see what he spoke of - but, then again, perhaps not. There seemed little overlap between what I could see of Dalish and Orlesian fashions, and I, perhaps stubbornly, preferred a Dalish aesthetic.
He had better success when we found a bookstore. I had memories - memories of dreams - in which Solas offered titles of books that he thought might improve my spellcasting range or technique. I didn't remember all of them, but it turned out that those I did remember really existed, and the bookstore had copies of two of them. Varric bought both for me on the condition that I would also read several novels he thought I ought to be familiar with.
Solas himself arrived as Varric was choosing the last of the novels, and, though I had been content browsing, I suggested we should pay and take our leave. The shop was too small for four people to move about comfortably, for one thing. For another, the thought of Solas watching as I explored the shelves was...unsettling.
"I didn't expect you to like reading, knowing you have trouble with your vision," Varric confessed as we took our wrapped parcels and stepped out onto the street.
"Why not?" I asked with a chuckle. "Reading requires peering at things from only a little distance away, which happens to be where my vision is the sharpest."
"Fair point," he allowed. "The real question is: can you read a menu? I'm ready for a meal."
Cassandra and I had been sharing a room at the inn, while Varric and Solas did the same. Sera was to join us that night, and I intended to give up my bed to her for the relief of sleeping on the floor. When Varric and I arrived back, though, no one else was in my room, and so I spread myself and my newly-acquired reading material on the floor, and began reading about magic.
Sometime later - much later, I thought, though I had been so engrossed in my study that I hadn't the least idea what time it was - someone knocked on the door.
"Come in!" I called without looking up, assuming it was either Varric or a servant.
It was, in fact, neither.
"Your pardon," Solas said, and I felt my cheeks heating even before I had managed to raise my eyes - not that he was more than a pale blur in the darker blur of the doorway. "The book-seller said you bought her last copy of Calbi's Forms of Intent. I wondered if I might borrow it from you to look something up."
"Oh, of course," I said, and hastily marked my page with a cantrip that would encourage the book to fall open to that place when left to its own devices. Solas approached as I did it, peering down what I was reading.
"You are attempting to understand the - the mark?" he said, surprise evident in his voice.
I squinted up at him, wishing I could read his expression. "Not - not in its entirety," I replied. "At least not yet," I added at a much lower volume. "There is a section of the spell, though, that looks a little like this." I gestured at the page. "It is a...binding, of a sort, but it isn't what binds the spell to my hand. It seems to be reaching through the Veil to touch the Fade directly, and I am trying to work out how the connection was made in the first place, and how it is maintained without becoming unstable now."
"Anything is possible with enough power," he said.
"Indeed - and that so much power should be enough to incinerate me instantly doesn't signify?" I retorted, my eyebrows going up. "Yet here I am, not incinerated, and this spell still exists, arguing that something besides raw power is at work. In any case," I went on, dropping my eyes, closing the book, and handing it up without looking at him, "that section of the spell is both like that diagram and...not. I am attempting to catalog the differences, to understand how they change its overall purpose." I gestured to the other open book. "Some of the components are similar to these," I heaved a sigh, "though also rather different. I think I need more books," I reflected.
"I understand the feeling. Have you learned anything?" he asked, sounding fascinated in spite of himself.
"A little," I replied. "The spell doesn't appear designed to work around or with the Veil. There is no finesse in the way it punches through - that part, I imagine, required considerable power to achieve, or the entire thing would have failed." I took up the pencil I had been using and sketched a few runes in my journal along with some spell notations. "This would be a more elegant way to do it, I think, and would take less power."
"It...would," Solas agreed, sounding surprised again.
"I can't imagine why it wasn't designed that way to begin with - almost as though whoever put it together wasn't accounting for the Veil at all." I scowled down at my journal. Complexity I could work with, even admire, but the odd combination of refined ingenuity and crude force irritated me on a level I couldn't put words to.
"Your understanding of the Veil is...impressive," he said, and when I looked up I thought he might still be staring at my journal. "In any case," he went on, giving himself a small shake, "I shouldn't be long. Might I use your table? Varric has taken over the one in our room."
"Of course," I replied. It wasn't as though I was using it.
He stepped past me and the chair scraped against the floor as he sat down. I heard the soft ruffling of pages being turned, and returned my own gaze to the book still open before me. It likely wouldn't be possible for me to concentrate with him there, but I could at least pretend.
Or I thought I could - until a sensation like motion within the peripheral vision I didn't have caught my eye. I looked up sharply, and then stopped and stared, taking in the knot of spirits crowded around my guest.
"Solas," I said quietly, as though my voice might frighten them away, "did you know you have spirits following you?" I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed before - but then I remembered the desolation around Haven, and the many rifts plaguing Redcliffe, even leaving aside its proximity to the Breach. Val Royeaux, meanwhile, contained many spirits, especially in the market - how would I pick out which were specifically following him - or anyone - and which were merely drifting about observing generally? As for the days we had spent on the road, it was perfectly possible that we hadn't stayed in any one place long enough for spirits in the area to attach themselves to him.
He moved, presumably to look at me, though he was too far away for me to know for certain. "I have many friends among the spirits, so it's hardly surprising."
"There are so many different kinds," I said, only half hearing him as I watched them. Rising, I approached the nearest. It put out its hand, palm outward, as though it could touch me through the Veil, and I placed my palm carefully against it. I felt nothing, but its edges seemed to sharpen. "Curiosity," I murmured, and then looked around. "Dignity. Courage. Grace. Purpose." I gave them names and saw them stand a little straighter, perhaps pleased to be noticed, as I did it. One, however, remained bent over Solas, ignoring me. "Thoughtfulness?" I said, trying to identify it. "Or...Insight?"
"Meditation or Reflection, perhaps," Solas offered. "You know them, even from beyond the Veil."
"A spirit that knows what it is - its nature bleeds through, regardless," I explained. "I wish I could speak to them," I said, and then sighed. "I wish they wanted to speak to me. Spirits will come to me, but not like this. They only follow me if I ask for help."
"As I said, I have gone out of my way to befriend numerous spirits," he said. "If you make yourself welcoming, they will begin to take an interest, especially as you gain experience in the world."
"Well, perhaps that is my failing," I said with a rueful laugh. "Lack of experience."
He was silent, and as the silence stretched, I realized it was pointed - I just didn't know what it pointed towards. "What made you buy Calbi's book?" he asked at last.
"What?" I replied, thrown off by the question.
"It isn't an especially well-known treatise, and spends much of its time discussing the Fade, which isn't of much interest to southern mages," he said. "And you are Dalish, are you not? Where would you have heard of it?"
Oh. What was I to say? That I happened to find it in the book-seller's shelves? Then he would no doubt ask about the other book I had bought, which also spent more time on the Fade than might be usual here. "I dreamt of it," I confessed carefully. "Of both the books, actually. I...dream of things that are real, sometimes - and sometimes I dream of them before they happen. Like the Conclave."
The answer actually seemed to satisfy him. The area that might have been his head moved in what might have been a nod. "Though not something I would mention to people such as Cassandra and Cullen, there is nothing shameful - or inherently dangerous - in such dreams. Time works differently within the Fade, and sometimes events already set in motion can be seen before they come to pass. But if you receive visions of the future, I would not say that spirits lack an interest in you. One, at least, must feel a strong affinity for you, and it must also be one with considerable power - and perhaps that explains why lesser spirits might, at times, tread cautiously in your presence. In any case," he went on, and I could just make it out as he lifted the book from the table, tilting it to a more comfortable angle, "our rooms are not so far apart in terms reflected within the Fade. If these spirits linger around me, you can no doubt seek them out for your own purposes while you sleep."
That was a pleasant thought. I left him to his reading, and went back to pretending to do mine until he left, when I would be able to begin again in earnest.