Seen and Unseen

"Clearly the lack of auras in non-mage Qunari and Vashoth make their mages particularly easy to spot," Solas lectured me, "but any mage has a deeper aura than any non-mage, and so it's no wonder that you see mages more easily. Even so, anyone who can touch the Fade, however lightly, will have an aura, as anyone who can touch the Fade has the potential - however undeveloped - to become a mage."

"I can read mages' auras," I told him, perhaps a touch impatiently, though I was trying not to either let my boredom show or to make my attempts at hurrying this lesson along obvious.

"I would certainly hope so," he replied, the words a subtle rebuke.

We were a little outside of camp, though Varric, at least, was listening unabashedly - he had taken a seat on a log near enough that I could make out his figure. On the way to meet with Vivienne, Solas and I had practiced what he called the "inverted Fade step" every evening, until using it on anyone - anything - I could see, was as simple and natural as any other spellcasting I did. I had even had a chance to use it in battle when some bandits foolishly attacked us. Their leader had been using a sword with an enchanted rune worked into it, allowing me to keep an eye on his position at all times. Whenever he got too close, I simply moved him a little away from the battle, leaving him utterly bewildered. Then Varric had sidled up to me, letting me know that Cassandra was ready to deal with him, and I had stolen his sword.

Varric had spent the evening chuckling at odd moments as he recalled the bandit's confused expression. "Maybe I should try my hand at comedy," he had mused. "If I wrote verse...but nah, then I'd need a composer." And he had gone on, muttering ideas to himself.

Now we were camped on the shore of the Waking Sea, having taken passage on a boat the day before, and Solas was imparting information about auras I already knew. Vivienne had opted to make her own way to Haven, declining to camp on the Storm Coast when her presence would be largely superfluous. "It is aptly named, my dear, never doubt it," she had told me with a delicate - and entirely affected - shudder of distaste.

I wasn't quite certain what to make of her yet.

"It's difficult to see the auras of non-mages against the Veil," I confessed to Solas. "Even dimmed by the Veil, the Fade is so bright…"

"And this is what I meant when I said you relied on your unique sight too much," he told me. "Mage senses are not mundane senses. Yes, we use the language of the mundane for convenience, and most mages do experience certain sensations as aligning more closely to one mundane sense than the others, but they are fundamentally unrelated. If your perception of the brightness of the Veil blinds you to subtler expressions of magic, close your eyes."

"Oh," I said.

"Eventually - or at least so it is to be hoped - you won't allow sight to overwhelm your other senses," he went on, though he seemed mildly amused by my stunned response. "For now, you may practice with my aura as it is stronger, but when you have mastered that exercise, Cassandra will aid us. Seekers don't drink lyrium as templars do, so her aura ought to be near enough that of a common warrior to suffice."

He not only made me close my eyes, but blindfolded me. "So you can concentrate on your task and not on keeping your eyes closed," he told me before I could ask why. I was to find him sightlessly, and then cast a simple illumination spell on the spot where I believed him to be. My goal was to center the spell over him precisely , of course - Solas insisted on precision and this time he didn't need to prod me into agreeing. If I was going to be flinging spells about, unable to see what I was doing in any form, I wanted to be absolutely certain those spells went exactly where I wanted them to go.

And - with Solas, and his substantial aura, I performed perfectly.

"I think you need Cassandra," Varric commented.

"Indeed," Solas conceded. "Tomorrow. Inana shouldn't deplete herself while we are traveling."

I was nowhere near depleted, but didn't point it out. Solas was teaching me at my request, and so I was trying to be content to let him guide me.

He wasn't an easy man, I had decided. In my dreams, I saw less-guarded sides of him. In the waking world, though? He was reserved. A little prickly. Concerned with propriety and order. His personality really only broke free in his passion for esoteric subjects like the Fade.

He was a little difficult, though it didn't make me dislike him. I wanted to know how this side of him fit with what I knew of him from dreams. It seemed to me that he was determined to keep himself apart from other people, and I wanted desperately to know why. When I had dreamed of him, it had never occurred to me that he was older than I was - that he had been an adult when I was still a child too young even to remember him. It had all been in my mind - an association with a phantom that might or might not have been my own invention. The nature of that association had changed as I did, naturally. But now I knew Solas was real, and that gave him a real age - one attached to a number much higher than my own, even if I didn't know precisely what the number was.

He didn't seem to want me to forget it. Or - maybe he didn't want to forget it himself?

That was presumptuous. It presumed he would ever want to forget, and aside from a collection of dreams that might ultimately have been my own inventions…

It was presumptuous.

At our next camp, I began the work of finding Cassandra's aura and using it to pinpoint her. It was difficult. And frustrating. Though it didn't take me long to discover I could sense her, her aura was so much more diffuse and formless than one belonging to a mage that I had trouble locating her within it.

"You must read what Cassandra's aura says about her, and then find the her at the heart of it," Solas told me.

That would no doubt have been very helpful, had it meant anything to me. I almost said so, but bit back the words, instead taking a breath, reaching for patience. A day ago, I hadn't even been able to find Cassandra's aura. Now I could. It was progress.

Nor was it the only progress I made that evening. Though I got no more accurate in choosing locations for my spell, I did begin to locate her general position more quickly and with less conscious deliberation.

Solas called a halt long before I exhausted myself. "You're making progress," he allowed - an acknowledgment of fact that could only barely be read as a compliment.

I didn't say anything in reply, smothering my own dissatisfaction.

The next day we reached the Storm Coast. It began raining in the early morning, while we were breaking camp, and only rained harder as we continued on. The coast, it seemed, was indeed aptly named. I tried to shut out the rain by riding with my eyes closed, keeping track of Cassandra's aura and trying to "find the her at the heart of it."

I still had no idea what he was talking about.

We located the forward camp the Inquisition had placed in anticipation of our arrival, and found the same scout there who had welcomed us to the Hinterlands - I knew the voice. For a moment I floundered for her name. Harding? Yes. A surface dwarf, like Varric.

"Your Worship," she greeted me, making me wince. "For what it's worth, welcome to the Storm Coast. I would have sent word sooner, but our efforts have been...delayed."

"Delayed how?" I wondered. As far as I knew, I was just here to meet the Bull's Chargers.

"There's a group of bandits operating in the area. They know the terrain, and our small party has had trouble going up against them," she explained. "Some of our soldiers went to speak with their leader - try to negotiate a truce since we don't expect to be here long. Haven't heard back, though."

"Oh," I sighed. "Well, one way or another, we'll have to find them." I was about to hire a mercenary company. Perhaps they could help.

"We didn't have an exact location for the bandits, but they were starting their search farther down the beach."

"Noted," I told her. "Any sign of the Chargers?"

"Camped on the beach," Harding replied, gesturing broadly enough that I saw the motion. "We've been keeping an eye on them - and they've been doing the same to us, no doubt. They're a bit rowdy, but nothing outrageous or dangerous. Brought us some fish when they caught too much to eat one afternoon."

"That's good news, anyway," I told her. "We'll figure out something about the soldiers before tomorrow - just give me an hour or two."

"Thank you," she said with a head movement I interpreted as a nod. She began to turn away, but then paused, the pale blur of her face becoming visible again as she glanced back at me. "Good luck, and...enjoy the sea air. I hear it's good for the soul."

"I think there's a scout with a little crush on the Herald," Varric said with relish as soon as she was out of earshot. "Anyone want to place bets?"

"No," Solas replied flatly.

"That would hardly be appropriate," Cassandra told him. "And besides, it looks more like hero-worship to me."

Wonderful.

"In that case - " Varric began to argue.

"We have an appointment," I reminded them - mostly Varric. "I don't know that I can make it across that rocky beach alone - at least with both my ankles intact." We had crossed portions of it, and between the color, the sound of shifting stones, and the way my horse had picked its way with the utmost care, I understood that the footing was likely terrible. "Do you think I might have some help?"

I fully expected Cassandra to grant my request, but Solas was at my side and offering his arm before she could speak.

"Oh. Thank you," I said, accepting it and hoping the warmth in my ears didn't show.

We walked down to the rock-covered shore. The footing was at least as bad as I had feared - and that was even leaving aside how unbalanced Solas left me feeling. Both he and my staff were more necessary than such aids usually were, which I found both thrilling and inconvenient. The rain seemed to enhance his scent. He still smelled of feladara and woodsmoke, but now I could detect traces of plain soap and something sweeter - gaildahlas, perhaps, or some other flower.

Even so, he did nothing to imply the moment was at all an intimate one. If he found my scent as interesting as I found his, he gave no sign of it, steadying me without orienting his body towards mine in a way that might suggest any of this meant more to him than a single moment of impersonal benevolence.

On the one hand, I had observed enough of him to know not to read too heavily into his propensity to hold himself apart. On the other, it felt impossibly arrogant to assume even friendly interest on the basis of one generous act without any other confirmation on his part.

I heaved a sigh. One he gave no indication he had noticed.

We approached the Chargers' camp and were hailed by someone - and then by another someone with a thunderous voice, who was also so large I could separate out his blur from the general background blur. "The Venatori are camped just a little further down the beach," the second someone boomed. "Let's go fuck 'em up!"

A general cheer went up at that suggestion. "Aren't we here to negotiate?" Cassandra asked somewhat uncertainly.

"And to see them in action," I shrugged. "It looks as though they want to do that first. You will all have to keep an eye out and let me know how it went, after."

After the clear enthusiasm for killing Venatori, I half expected the Chargers to rush off in a mad horde - but no. I could hear the shouted orders and the scuff of boots against shifting rocks as they got into some sort of formation, and then they moved forward together.

A giant of a man - with horns? - fell in beside Solas as our group followed the Chargers toward the Venatori camp. I felt him examining me and looked up, though I couldn't really meet his gaze. He grunted. "You must be the one they're calling Herald of Andraste," he said, and I recognized the deep voice as well as the general size of him.

"I suppose," I sighed, "if everyone is really going to insist on that. You must be the Iron Bull."

"I am," he agreed easily. "Heard you had some difficulty moving around - your vision, is it?" he asked.

"Is that a problem?" I asked in return, wondering if my personal qualities were somehow going to sink this contract before it even had a chance to be considered.

"Nah - just like to know who we're working for, strengths and weaknesses. If you prefer, though," his tone became sly, "I'm sure I could carry you into battle faster than you'll make it leaning on some apostate mage's arm."

For the first time, I felt Solas react - or, rather, I felt him deliberately not reacting. Tension filled him briefly - and then flowed out again just as quickly. When I spared a glance at him, his gaze was studiously fixed on some far-off point.

It was almost enough to distract me from wondering how the Iron Bull knew Solas was an apostate.

"Since I'm also a mage, I don't feel the need to rush into combat," I assured him. "Better for me to hang back a little."

"Suit yourself." I heard a feral grin enter his voice: "I'll see you on the other side, then."

I could tell we were approaching the camp. The Venatori had brought several spellcasters with them, and, as we got closer, I was gratified to find that I could dimly sense the auras of a handful of non-magically-inclined people. Even better - all of them seemed to be wearing enchanted gear.

Solas picked up the pace a little as the Venatori spotted us and the Chargers lived up to their name by charging forward with a battle cry. At the top of a small rise he removed my arm from his, but gave it a squeeze before letting go. I looked at him.

"Target the mages," he told me. "Leave the rest for the front-line combatants unless some break through their line."

"How did you know I could see them?" I asked.

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Because I already know you to be capable of finding a principle within what you learn, and applying it broadly. Now, see what you can do against those spellbinders. They hem themselves in with physical tokens, and will be weaker without them."

And with that, we flung ourselves into the fray.

Feladara is Elvish for elfroot, and gaildahlas is the Elvish name for embrium.