It was my daughter's birthday this week, which meant family in town and a party to plan for this weekend, and I am utterly exhausted. But, hey, I scraped together the energy to put up a chapter.

The Business of Civility

The woman in front of me wrung her hands, and I suspected she had a mage-child of her own - or that one of her close relatives did. I couldn't see her face very clearly, but that gesture, at least, was obvious. "I'm Dalish and a mage myself," I reminded her gently, "and surely less enamored with Circles than anyone. I can't promise everything will change the way we both want it to, but I can promise to fight for that change. I can also unfortunately promise that mages must be trained. Untrained mages are as great a danger to themselves and their communities as the Chantry and Circles have led you to believe - the difference is that properly trained mages are not ."

We had finished breakfast, which I suspected I would have eaten alone, waited on by the various citizens of Halamshiral I had come to meet, if Sera hadn't flopped down at the other end of the table and then directed everyone to seats. Conversation had been largely up to me to direct, and I had listened more than I spoke, mostly asking questions to draw out my hosts, though Sera had used whatever subjects came up to make occasional jokes at my expense. I had laughed along with her and Loranil - and even sometimes Skinner - as the rest of the laughter around the table had grown less nervous as the meal proceeded. She was doing a much better job of making me a woman - as opposed to a symbol or a prophet - than I would ever be able to do on my own, and so I had allowed her to proceed without protest. Though I had admittedly given in to the temptation to turn her own jokes back around on her at times, when I could do so playfully. She had laughed at those, too, so I supposed it had been the right thing to do.

A right thing to do, anyway.

Now L'Accueil's aura caught my eye as I leaned casually against the table. I was pleased she had arrived, but found myself unable to disengage from my current conversation to speak with her immediately. I heard Loranil offering her tea, anyway, and hoped someone would think to feed her.

"We worry," the woman in front of me went on, "that even revealing the existence of mages within our midst might make them targets if the Circles are re-formed. How could we trust any mage to have more loyalty to us than to their own Circle, when all of them were brought up in Circles?"

"I know Fiona - formerly Grand Enchanter and still leader of the rebel mages - and she is a woman of honor. If I ask her not to record names - if I can convince her to agree - she will keep her word, though she won't particularly like it." I hesitated as an alternative to the solution Solas had offered me the night before occurred to me. "There may be a second method for solving this problem, for at least some of the children, but there would have to be interest in pursuing it on your end before I put in the effort to arrange it." I took a breath. "There are Dalish clans who would welcome mage-children, either because the clan needs mages and hopes to entice one to stay, or because we value both magic and the well-being of our people, no matter how scattered."

"And how would sending them away to the Dalish be different from sending them away to the Circle?" the woman asked - demanded, really, no matter how timid her voice sounded.

"They would be free to communicate with their families, to begin with," I told her. "They would be free to leave, as well, once they gained a basic level of control. There are no templars to brutalize them daily, though the threat of shemlen violence of course hangs over every elf, city or Dalish." She looked thoughtful. "You need not decide now," I hastened to assure her. "For the moment, I will speak to Fiona, and agents from the Inquisition will remain in contact with your community." The possibility of sending mages to train with the Dalish might be the leverage I needed to convince Fiona not to keep careful records. She would know even less if it were the Dalish and not her own people doing the training. I kept that to myself, though. How I convinced her was between us.

I held my hand out to the woman and she took it tentatively. Her hand was shaking. "I won't say not to worry - it would be foolish not to worry a little in times like these. I will do all I can to protect you, your children, and the community as a whole, however. Whatever you decide is best for yourselves, I will stand with you - and the Inquisition will, too, for as long as I command it."

"Thank you, Your Worship," she whispered, and I let her go.

Skinner seized my moment of liberty to bring L'Accueil to me. "Your Worship," the habitually taciturn elf said with an ironic twist of her mouth, gesturing to Briala's agent.

"Ma serannas, Skinner. It's good to see you again," I told L'Accueil. "I believe a room has already been acquired for us. Have you had a chance to eat?"

Sera was had been keeping an eye on our conversation and swooped in to lead us to the room she had arranged for us to use, while L'Accueil and I engaged in pleasantries. She asked how we had slept and whether we had been comfortable, and I after Briala's health.

After pouring us cups of ale from a pitcher that had apparently been left for that purpose, Sera took a chair at one side of the room and proceeded to - at least apparently - fall asleep. Her breathing sounded realistically even, at any rate. While I had already been aware that morning wasn't her favorite time of day, it wasn't as though we had gone to bed particularly late, and I was a little surprised she had decided to trust Briala's agent so much. Not that I had any particular doubts about her, but Sera was, by nature, more suspicious than I was.

"I heard what you were discussing when I came in," L'Accueil told me as she settled herself in the chair nearest me, where we would be able to lean in easily to talk about sensitive subjects - and where I could, luckily enough, see her face quite clearly. "About your plans for the mages."

"Did you have plans of your own?" I asked. "I don't mind coordinating."

"Oh! Dearest Maker, no," the agent said with a startled laugh. "My mistress has been concerned about young mages, but we lack the contacts to do anything about it - particularly anything that would avoid causing alarm for those we are trying to help. I only brought it up to let you know that she will be relieved and grateful when she learns you are taking on the task yourself."

I nodded, remembering something Dorian had once said to me: mutual appreciation is a good start. It certainly had been for the two of us. "Were you able to speak with her about what we discussed last night?" I asked.

"Yes," L'Accueil said, and then fell silent for a moment. "She agrees that the woman in question deserves no additional chances on her own merits, and wished me to reassure you that, should things become chaotic, we are in a good position to make things uncomfortable for the ruling class. Perhaps we might make them uncomfortable enough to win concessions such as elves elevated to positions of real power, though of course such gains would be precarious. However," and the agent's tone took on a tinge of veiled disapproval, "my lady would consider it a personal favor if you were to foil the plot in spite of all I have said."

"Ah," I said, putting together several pieces of intelligence Leliana had shared with me. Gaspard had started a rumor that Briala and Celene were lovers. It seemed there was some basis in reality for such a claim, though whether their relationship was sexual or otherwise I could not, of course, know. I briefly considered letting Briala think that I was saving Celene's life as a favor to her - it would mean that she owed me. But…no. I believed the Game mostly a tool for subjugating the people of Orlais while holding them responsible for their own victimization. If they only played better, they would have power - or so the conventional wisdom held. It was all halla shit. I wouldn't engage in the Game with one of my own people. "That won't be necessary," I told L'Accueil. "My own agent argued persuasively last night in favor of sparing her life, and so I will do what I can to save her."

Her eyebrows arched in surprise.

"I know," I said before she could decide whether to comment on my poor showing at playing the Game. "I know I might have used such a weakness against your mistress - but why would I want to? Even if we approach our goals from different angles, we want the same things. I would rather do the work of compromising with her any time we find ourselves temporarily at cross-purposes than simply demand concessions for past services. We are sisters, not rivals."

L'Accueil smiled abruptly - the first sincere smile I had seen from her, I thought. "Either you lack sisters, Inquisitor, or you are blessed to be unusually close to them. Ask mine if sisters can be rivals. Even so, I take your point, and my mistress will be…pleased. You may even succeed in flattering her a little, though she is usually immune to such simple maneuvers as flattery."

"There is a difference between a compliment and flattery, L'Accueil," I told her. "I haven't much talent for the latter, and I doubt she needs the former. She is a powerful woman in her own right, even if her power isn't as open as mine. Openness…restrains my power to a certain degree, so I think we may be evenly matched, or nearly so."

"I doubt my lady would go that far," the agent said. "You inspire in a way she cannot, nor will ever be able to." Her voice dropped. "To many, she will always be known as Celene's creature."

I paused, parsing her words. "If that is a warning about how easily and quickly I might fall from grace, you needn't worry," I told her. "I am well aware - which doesn't mean I would be capable of averting it. But I am aware."

She nodded, and her expression might have contained just a touch of sympathy. After that, we discussed a few other small matters. Briala had sent advice for manipulating Gaspard, or at least keeping him too off-balance to remember he likely felt he had a right to my body, as I was an elf and his guest. The threat of his hands wandering didn't worry me as much as it might have - I would be in armor and was perfectly capable of passing enough lightning through the metal to make touching it uncomfortable. My biggest concern was what Solas might do or say if he noticed Gaspard attempting to take liberties. My ancient Elvhen priest was no diplomat, and sometimes a little…impulsive.

I told L'Accueil about my ability to hold lightning within any conductive material - including my own body - just to listen to her laugh as she contemplated Gaspard receiving a little jolt any time he attempted to touch me in anything but the most decorous manner. I hoped Briala would appreciate the image, as well.

We parted at last with more pleasantries. I asked her to convey my best wishes to Briala, and to tell her that I looked forward to meeting face to face at the Winter Palace. The agent assured me her mistress felt the same, and then I woke Sera to find out what my schedule dictated next.

"Heard you've been studying healing," she told me as she stretched, "and I hope you've been studying it good. Got some kids couldn't be taken to the camp - too sick. Thought you might be able to help a few, anyhow."

I looked at her with wide eyes. "I'll do my best, of course, though I hope no one is hoping for cures or miracles. Complicated problems usually require more than one treatment, and often physical remedies in addition to magic."

She snorted, rising to her feet. "You think these people are big enough to see healers? Anything you do'll be a miracle to them, Arse-Keeper Lady Elfs-a-lot."

Even though she was making a serious point, I found myself snickering at "arse-Keeper." "Do I get to keep the entire Inquisition's arses, or just the ones I heal?" I asked her.

She shot me a slightly lopsided smile, with less of the triumph I would have expected and a distinct edge of embarrassment. I realized she was still thinking about our conversation from the night before, and had grown no more comfortable with my affection for her. "You're the Lady Herald, right? They'll give you any arses you ask for, I bet."

I was still laughing when we returned to the tavern's common room.