Chapter 9: Seven of Wands

Alexius had not yet figured out how to bend time enough to travel through it. But he had found a spell that allowed time to speed up for the caster and any in his or her vicinity, while time seemed to slow for those not affected by the spell. He called it Haste. Dorian was terrified to use it, because the potential for backfiring was so great. But if ever there was a time to take a risk, and to be hasty, this was it.

He'd slowly been packing his things over the last couple of weeks, and knew that most of it could be replaced once he arrived at his destination; the things that couldn't, he'd shipped ahead for his eventual arrival. His father, pleased with Dorian's sudden interest in women, had been generous with his funds, and Dorian had been saving some aside. He'd run away without a plan before, and it had been disastrous. He did not intend to make that mistake ever again.

The edges of his vision were muted, though everything directly in his line of sight was preternaturally defined: an effect of the Haste spell. He'd practiced it with Alexius, and then on his own in secret so he could get accustomed to the effects of it. It wouldn't last long, so he hurried through his rooms one last time, slung his pack over his shoulder, and headed out the door to his private garden. Things were appearing sharper now, and he knew he had to hurry. He broke into a nervous run and made it to the gate, which of course was locked.

But he was ready for this. He'd learned to snake the tiniest thread of magic into a locking mechanism and neutralize the spells that held it closed; he figured it would also be useful if he ever found himself in chains again, which was quite likely, given what he was about to do.

He clicked the gate closed behind him and stole out into the alleys of Minrathous, cloak up and feet silent. He doubled back and crossed his paths and took the long way to the eastern docks. By then Haste had worn off; he hoped that the Venatori were still in their blood-induced Fade dreams; just one thought about Felix, face bloody and eyes wide, was enough to convince Dorian he was doing the right thing.

It was late, but there were always ships sailing the Nocen Sea between Minrathous and Vyrantium, usually to supply the latter with lyrium the dwarves brought first into the capital city. Dorian waited in the short queue line of passengers booking passage south, gazing about nervously, ears pricked listening for some alarm. He didn't know how much time had passed. He jingled his coin pouch nervously and shuffled toward the gangplank.

"Where are you going?"

Dorian spun around when the guard grabbed him, and a blast of violet electric magic blasted the guard backward. "That is what happens when you presume to lay hands on me, ser," he said, keeping his voice as even as possible, though he was shaking inside. He was so close to escaping.

Three more melted from the shadows with swords drawn. Dorian realized he didn't recognize them as regulars. Had his father made a guard rotation? He reached for his magic, but he felt tired and focusing was hard. The three closed in and there was a feeling of the air being sucked away. Dorian stepped back, doing his best to keep his head. "Templars," he announced, casually, knowing just what effect the dreaded word would have. The few passengers ahead of him wheeled around. Suddenly staves were bared at the advancing guards, and one man had sliced open his palm and used his own blood to create a burst of energy that threw the three guards back.

The first guard, wearing House Pavus livery, was having a hard time getting back to his feet. "Run home to my father if you must," Dorian said, curling his lip in a sneer as he tried to catch his breath. "I'm through with this."

He turned away and clenched his hands to keep from shaking. Everyone on the dock was watching him but he'd been raised to be accustomed to attention. "Thank you," he said to the man who'd so casually performed blood magic to protect him.

The man only laughed. "Whoever would send templars this deep into Tevinter is slower than a sloth demon at a Grand Proving," he said. "They may be able to drain mana, but luckily mana isn't the only way to access magic." He looked at Dorian, and if he recognized him, he said nothing. "Take care, young man," he said, and boarded the ship.

Dorian nodded his thanks and moved to the front of the line. "One way to Vyrantium," he said. He dropped a purse of coins onto the podium.

"You realize this is too much," the man said, looking up from his ledger..

Dorian shrugged. "I believe that you will find it sufficient for the trouble you may incur for selling me passage," he said.

The man looked between the purse of coins and Dorian's calm, yet serious expression and piercing grey eyes. At last he nodded. "Aye. No promises."

"None expected." Dorian was the last person up the gangplank, and as the ship set sail he turned his back on Minrathous and went below decks to sleep.

He'd planned this escape far better than his brief trip to Orlais, but he hadn't counted on the seasickness. He tried to keep his legs under him, but, much to the humor of the crew and other passengers, he couldn't walk more than a few paces at a time without having to hug a wall or lean on a railing. And the vomiting. He hadn't realized his stomach was capable of such antics, and he'd been quite drunk more than a few times.

But he was free, if just for the few days it would take to reach Vyrantium, and he would gladly stumble around the decks pausing to vomit for a week if it meant never returning to Minrathous again.

Dorian half expected a contingent of Pavus guards, led by Halward himself, to meet him at the Vyrantium docks; but when they dropped anchor in the harbor Dorian saw no one. It was slightly cooler and the air felt fresher. He didn't have as much coin left as he would have liked, but there was no way he was walking to the Circle like this. He hailed a coach along the Avenue of Quays and the driver hardly believed him when he asked to be taken to the Circle. However, it wasn't as strange as the way the doormen at the Circle looked at him.

Dorian wanted to laugh with joy even as the doorman surveyed him suspiciously. "Dorian Pavus," he said. He bowed slightly. "Mage of the Circle, returned to take my place here."

He did not expect laughter, but it didn't bother him as much as he thought it might. When he'd first come to these doors six years ago he'd been well groomed and completely ignorant of just how… well, fucked up Tevinter was. But fucked up or not, it was his home and he would be damned if he saw it fall to the likes of the Venatori. "I've sent my things ahead from Minrathous," he explained. "And I bear this." He showed his amulet. "You may ask the First Enchanter to confirm the authenticity if you wish. I'd not blame you," he added. He'd caught his reflection in the coach's window; he was scruffy and dirty, in need of a wash, a shave, and probably a good meal and some better wine.

He couldn't even bring himself to be annoyed when they made him wait outside in the sun for the First Enchanter. Though Vyrantium was far smaller than Minrathous, it still felt more open, and far less oppressive.

"Dorian? That can't be you!" The First Enchanter pushed past the doormen and strode up to Dorian. He took him by the shoulders and looked him over. "Six years. We thought you'd defected to Minrathous's Circle by now," he said with a smile.

"I've found Minrathous is not to my liking," Dorian said simply. "And I've no desire to return to Qarinus as long as I live. It took six years to figure it out, but Vyrantium is home," he said.

"We began to wonder when your things arrived," the First Enchanter said. "We didn't dare to hope, and yet here you are. Livius passed two years ago, so we are in need of a Necromancy expert…" The First Enchanter went on excitedly, and Dorian half listened as they walked the dark stone hallways of the Circle. He remembered it all so well, even though he'd only spent two years here. "Unfortunately your old rooms were given to a new member not long after you were sent to Minrathous," the First Enchanter said. "But there will always be a place for you here," he added, and the look he gave Dorian made him want to sob with gratitude.

His new suite was a bit darker than his old one, but it didn't matter. He was back in the one place he'd never felt pressured to be anyone or anything other than himself. He had a bath drawn, and gave himself a good shave. For the first time in years he felt he could relax and let his guard down somewhat.

At dinner he found that not many new mages had come into the Circle since he'd left, but there were promises of introductions, and all of his old friends and mentors all but climbed over one another to ask him questions about his time in the capital.

"Is it true Alexius is experimenting with time?" one asked.

Dorian shrugged and smiled. "Experimenting, but nothing conclusive," he said. He'd picked up many tactics in Minrathous, and knew they were no less useful here. "But tell me of Livius's passing," he said, furrowing his brow, and they launched into a discussion of the old mage's death and the topic of Alexius did not resurface. Eventually Dorian feigned exhaustion and excused himself. He locked himself in his room, both physically and magically, sealing even the windows with wards of guarding and warning.

The next days were a whirl of meetings and appointments. No young mages had shown a penchant for Necromancy, and it was just as well for Dorian. He felt he still had much to learn about the strange branch of magic before he would be comfortable taking on apprentices. And he was still only twenty-one years old. Livius had probably been four times his age! So Dorian was given a reprieve and spent his days researching what he could about the Venatori: their history, their habits, their manifestos; it suddenly felt desperately important to learn all he could about them.

But he also realized it was high time he crafted his own staff: something made with his own hands, suited to his own needs and talents. The primal spells that had come so easily to him were practical, but any future enemies would also know those. He focused on his connection to the Fade and the spirits that milled about and accepted his presence and heeded his voice.

Surprisingly, working with his hands felt good, as if he'd spent the last years in Minrathous being too idle. It felt good to focus, to feel the magic flowing from his hands and into the wood, and from the wood itself back into him. Any other staff he'd ever held had been just a tool; this would be an extension of himself.

"That's beautiful work," someone said, and Dorian jumped. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."

Dorian looked up, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He would have to get over his nerves eventually. He would not keep living in fear of his father. He started to smile and then his eyes widened. The man who stood a few feet away was breathtaking: skin tan like fine whiskey, cheekbones shaded, and his lip curled when he smiled in a way that made Dorian want to take him right there. But he swallowed and took another deep breath. "I was so intent upon my work that I didn't realize I was being watched," he said. "There is no need to apologize, and I thank you for the compliment…"

"Relenus." Maker. He didn't miss a beat. "And you…"

"Dorian."

"A pleasure," Relenus said, holding out his hand. Dorian took it and received a firm, sure handshake. "I've not seen you around before. Though I've only been in this Circle for a couple years."

"I was apprenticing in Minrathous," Dorian explained, liking the way Relenus didn't make a fuss over him, or ask anything about what he'd been doing. It was like a fresh start with him. "I returned a few days back."

"Welcome back, then," Relenus said. "I didn't mean to disturb you; I'll let you get back to work on your staff. Maybe when it's done we could spar."

"I'd enjoy that," Dorian said with a smile, ducking his head and hurrying back to his work before Relenus could see him blush. He hummed as he worked, feeling the electricity beneath his fingertips as he imbued the staff with his innate talent for lightning and his connection to the spirits of the Fade. He thought of Relenus and his finely tanned skin, his night-dark eyes, and his straight, dark hair and sparks shot from his fingertips. Perhaps he'd better stop before he lost any more focus.

Dorian only saw Relenus in passing; and only occasionally after that. His staff was far from finished, so he had no real reason to seek out the other mage, other than his attraction to him. But the fear of his father was still in his heart, that perpetual uncertainty as he wondered when Halward would show up again.

He didn't have to wait long; two weeks after he'd arrived back in Vyrantium he was finishing up a chess game with the First Enchanter when they heard a commotion in the hall outside the study. There was shouting and a fair amount of swearing before someone pounded on the door so hard the framed pictures on either side rattled on the wall.

"I apologize in advance," Dorian told the First Enchanter. He remained sitting, twirling his queen between his fingers. His heart was in his mouth, but he'd known there was no avoiding this.

The First Enchanter wordlessly got up and opened the door—after casting a glyph of warding on himself. Dorian considered following suit, but decided not to. If his father was going to attack him, he wasn't going to cower behind a glyph: he was going to fight back.

"Lord Halward," the First Enchanter said, opening the door and standing right in the middle so Halward could not get around. "Thank you for testing the sturdiness of my door. Your visit is… unexpected."

Dorian lounged in the chair, as defiant and casual as he could manage. He glanced up at his father, whose face was bright red as he tried to see around the First Enchanter. "Oh, I expected him eventually, First Enchanter," Dorian said. "In fact, I'm rather surprised it took him this long." He looked at the board and set down his queen, placing his opponent's king in check. "We can return to this soon, if you'd like, First Enchanter," Dorian said with a smile. "I'm sure my father's little chat will leave you time to figure out how to maneuver out of this."

The First Enchanter chuckled, but for the first time since Dorian had known him, he seemed nervous. No doubt he knew of the last time Dorian had run off; the entire Imperium had to at this point. And Halward was absolutely livid as he waited for Dorian to stroll out, smoothing his Vyrantium robes neatly.

"What? No templars this time?" Dorian asked when they'd walked a few paces down the halls. "It must be a special occasion for you to come after me yourself."

"Get that smug expression off your face, or Maker help me, I will do it for you," Halward snapped, stopping and turning to face Dorian, who was now the same height as he.

"No, you won't," Dorian said, crossing his arms over his chest. His father's eyes, so like his own, widened and his nostrils flared. "I think you seem to have forgotten that I came of age three years ago, and I am a full member of the Vyrantium Circle with all the rights and privileges accorded to me as a result. Treat me like a child if you wish, but I am through reacting like one."

"How dare you," Halward hissed. "After all I've done—"

Dorian laughed. "Like what? Shipped me off to Minrathous; had me hauled back to Qarinus by a templar; threatened me… I'm supposed to be grateful for that?" he asked.

Halward took a deep, hissing breath. "I will not be publicly humiliated by you, Dorian."

"Yet you have no problem publicly humiliating me."

His father was struggling to keep his cool. "Let us go somewhere more suited to this conversation," he suggested.

"If you're suggesting my rooms? That will not be happening."

"I am your father Dorian!"

"And I am an adult," Dorian said. It was hard to keep his voice calm and to keep his hands from shaking. At least here in the Circle his father wouldn't dare try anything questionable. There was too much at stake for him. "There is a small conservatory we may go to," he suggested after a moment.

The walk was longer than any Dorian had ever made. He nodded pleasantly to passing mages, who glanced at Halward's angry face and Dorian's grin. There would be talk this evening, for certain. At last they approached the room and Dorian led his father inside. He didn't bother to cast any glyphs; let them hear the shouts. Let Halward be forced to control himself, lest his precious reputation be tarnished even more.

They sat down across the room from one another. "Alexius is worried about you," Halward began.

"No he isn't," Dorian said. "He's afraid his pet protégé has run off with his secrets."

Halward sighed. "I can't keep doing this with you, Dorian."

"You don't have to. I'm an adult. You seem to forget that fact."

"If you're an adult then perhaps you don't require my assistance any longer," Halward challenged.

He was threatening to cut him off. It was a desperate measure, and Dorian could already feel the pain in his purse at the threat. Altuses possessed three things in excess: magic, pride, and money. Halward's threat was real, and it was effective. Dorian nearly cracked, but then remembered that his father's generosity had gone to buy evenings out with women he'd never called on again, women he didn't like in the first place, women he hated himself for lying to, and even more for lying to himself. "I do believe I could manage just fine," Dorian said lightly. "I don't intend to fill my nights here with wining and dining."

Halward's face took on a purple hue when Dorian called his bluff. "You push too far, Dorian," he warned.

"How so?" Dorian asked, jumping out of his seat. The air crackled with magic around him. "I'm of age. I'm a productive member of a Circle. What more do you want?" he asked. "Oh, right, none of that is enough unless I'm settled with a wife of your choosing." He was going too far now, but he didn't care. "I don't want you to choose one."

His father sat still in his chair, face purple-red; he was silent and he clutched the chair arms tightly. Dorian expected him to have a bout of apoplexy, but Halward exhaled slowly and loosened his grip. "Find your way if you must, Dorian, but you'll have no help from me."

"Thank you for understanding," Dorian said.

Halward headed to the door and paused. "I don't understand. But you dare too much and push too hard, and I fear for you."

Dorian's heart flipped. He very nearly apologized then and there, but instead stood his ground and watched his father leave. When Halward was out of sight he collapsed into the chair as if his bones had suddenly turned to jelly. He clutched his head in his hands and struggled to breathe around the sobs trying to choke him.

He missed Felix.

In his rooms he found a scroll and quill and scratched a quick message: This time it was the Venatori.

He owed Felix at least that much of an explanation.

Author's Note: So many thanks! mille libre, FenZev, deagh, Apollo Wings, theycallmepeter, Yvain-Star, HunnyHoney, Karebear... thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. Thank you to the new followers and favorites as well! This chapter has a fun little Easter egg in it; at least, I thought it was fun :) I'll reveal it soon. In other Tevinter Fan Girl news, my Tevinter hoodie should be here tomorrow, and my Dorian lithograph has shipped. I also ordered the magician tarot card t-shirt during the BioWare store sale. I couldn't NOT get it, with this story going on! Thanks again so much everyone!