3. The Scholar

Felicity Amell was a master of the art of storming. She could out-storm the most pompous of nobles, the most intimidating of warriors, and the most powerful of magisters, because, once stirred, her anger was something to be feared, and she would not cease the tempest until she had seen that whatever had upset her had been corrected.

Or so he had once told her, laughter proprietarily hidden behind his helmet.

The fearfulness of her righteous fury was never better demonstrated than now, as she stalked through the halls of the Circle Tower. She had one book tucked under her arm (a historical account of the Fourth Blight), but its presence was irrelevant, merely a vestige of the dutiful studies she had been engaged in when word had reached her.

The mages were leaving.

Well, not all of them, obviously. Some were to stay behind, continuing their studies as usual. That was part of the problem.

Felicity whirled around a corner and through an open doorway, and there stood the intended target of her storming, serenely packing her bags. Senior Enchanter Wynne smiled warmly up at Felicity as she entered.

"Ah, it's good to see you, Miss Amell. Have you come by to say your farewells? If so, you mustn't worry."

"Why aren't I coming with?" the young woman snapped. Her black hair and dusky skin made the outrage in her dark eyes flash all the brighter.

Wynne did not look surprised by the demand. She unbent from over her bags, taking a moment to stretch her back. "Ah, I remember when I was so impatient."

Felicity didn't have time for Wynne's lectures. The senior enchanter was something of a mentor to her, so Felicity felt the older woman owed her an explanation for this. "I have always been the top of my class. I have an excellent grasp of magical theory, herbalism, history, tactical theory… all things that will no doubt be useful on a battlefield. And I've been studying the darkspawn day and night ever since word reached us that the king was calling the mages in. I know things. I can help!"

Take me away from here! Away from him!

Wynne thought, obviously choosing her words carefully. "Perhaps the First Enchanter thought it best not to interrupt your studies. If I recall, you are working on no less than three theses at the moment, correct?"

"Well, yes…" Felicity fumbled, momentarily losing her grip on her anger as she considered that. "It would be a pity to set aside my study on the connection between entropic magic and… but no! That's not the point!" She shook her head, resolutely pulling her anger around her again. "This is a snub! I wasn't even approached with the offer!"

"Not all mages in the Tower were. And consider, Miss Amell, that you are amongst the most junior of the Circle. Our youth are our future. I suspect Irving did not want to risk as promising a scholar as you."

Felicity sagged, her energy seeping out of her as her anger did. Replacing it came a wave of bitterness. "We both know there's more to it than that." She wrinkled her nose, staring down at the book that was for some reason still in her arms. "The king wants power, doesn't he? Magical power, I mean. He wants fireballs, and quagmires, and the wrath of the Maker summoned from on high. And I can't provide that."

Wynne's eyes were gentle with compassion as she stepped forward and enfolded the younger mage into a warm hug. "It will come, my dear, if you only have the will and the patience. And I know you well enough to know that you certainly do have the will."

After a moment, Felicity pulled back and tried to master herself. She blinked back the tears that had suddenly come to her eyes, taking deep breaths so as not to let them fall. A mage was dignified and wise… they didn't cry like spurned schoolgirls just because the bigger kids didn't want to play with them. "I simply don't understand… why is it so hard for me? I understand the theory perfectly… you take the elements and fold them in the desired fashion to suit your ends, and then exert your magical energy proportionally to achieve the desired effect. There are so many treatises on different meditation techniques that can augment the placement of-"

Wynne laid a gentle hand on Felicity's shoulder, silencing her. With utmost confidence, Wynne repeated, "It will come. You are a brilliant young woman, Miss Amell, and a wonderful student, if I do say so myself. The Circle is truly blessed to have such a mind among our ranks. Truly, I would hate to risk your safety at Ostagar, when you have such potential ahead of you."

Felicity wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her robe, giving up the battle. She cast the older mage a watery smile. "I suppose I should be content with that, then."

Wynne nodded and took a step back toward her bag, then paused, seeming to think of something. She turned back to Felicity with a thoughtful smile. "There is one more lesson, perhaps, that I can give you before I leave."

"Wynne, I am hardly the quiet little apprentice anymore."

"My dear, you never were particularly quiet, when it came to learning." Wynne smiled, mischief sparkling in her deep eyes. "Which is perhaps for the best, as one never does stop learning. Even at my age, the world contains its own lessons."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "If only so you can impart them on those younger than you, I suppose."

"What good, I ask, is having learned said lessons if no one else gains the benefit? Ah, but I am straying off topic." Wynne bent to dig through her bags for a moment, and stood back up holding a sewing needle. "This is something we've worked on before, you recall, and you did seem to have a great deal better grasp on it than most of my students." Felicity was confused, until she added, "Excepting, perhaps, certain mages who have recently escaped again."

Felicity perked up, clutching the book to her chest in anticipation. "You speak of healing magic? But the creation branch of study is hopelessly complex. It can not be properly taught in a single lesson."

"The theory is certainly complex, but I suspect you of all people will not have much problem with that. The practical application is really quite simple, requiring none of the forcefulness nor manipulation of primal or spirit manifestations. You must merely first understand that which you are affecting."

Felicity leaned forward, taking the needle when offered. "But, as you've said, we've been over it before. Unsuccessfully."

"Because the lesson lacked a practical element. I could hardly have let you apprentices prick yourselves, now could I? Goodness, the Templars would have gone absolutely mad."

"Prick our… like blood magic?"

"No, no, of course not… but it would not be unexpected for them to jump to such conclusions. Don't you agree?"

Felicity nodded, sharing a mischievous look with Wynne. "So, now that I am a full mage, it is hardly your place to say whether I might or might not prick myself."

"I should not be surprised that you understand so easily."

Felicity carefully set the tome aside and inspected the needle. "So what do I do?"

"Merely understand that which you heal, Felicity. Understand it so fully that you merge with it and become one with it. Then let your energy flow into it, guiding it to where it needs to go, and the affected area will do the rest."

Felicity nodded, carefully lowering the needle to the back of her hand. She bit her lip as she pricked the tip into her skin, wincing as she drew blood. Then, she pulled the needle across the skin, creating a shallow, but irritated, scratch.

She closed her eyes and let her magic flow into the injured hand. She could picture the hand from her anatomy studies… all the bones and muscles that came together to form the universal instrument. She let her magic rush through it, until in coalesced on the tiny injury. Warmth infused the area, and then a sudden itching as the broken skin knit back together. When she opened her eyes and released her magic, the skin was smooth and unmarred.

"Very good, Miss Amell. I do believe I told you so."

Felicity couldn't help the excited smile she cast at the elder woman. "This is… oh, thank you Wynne!"

"It is, as ever, my pleasure. Now, do make sure to practice every day. You can only get stronger and more confident by doing so."

Felicity nodded, pocketing the needle. "Thank you… and… good luck at Ostagar."

"Thank you. I have the utmost confidence that, if Ferelden works together, we can succeed. I will have returned before you even know I'm gone… particularly if you bury yourself in your studies as much as you usually do."

The gentle teasing made Felicity blush, but she was too elated over her personal accomplishment to take any offense. "I… have rather busied myself since my Harrowing, haven't I?" And not necessarily in studying, more the fool I.

"I daresay these last months have been the happiest and most productive I've seen you. And that is certainly saying something."

The younger mage smiled shakily and turned to start away, and then paused, the mention of Harrowings bringing up something else that had been bothering her lately.

"Is there something else, dear?"

Hesitantly, Felicity turned back to face Wynne fully. "There is one thing. There have been whispers among the other mages. I… I was wondering if they were true."

Wynne regarded her curiously. "I would say that would depend upon the whispers, though it's hardly polite to listen to gossip."

It was probably a good thing Wynne did not listen to current gossip, but that wasn't pertinent to this discussion. "Well, it is simply… they are saying that the next Harrowing will be Kazar Surana."

"Ah." The elder mage spoke that single word as if it contained all the understanding in the world… a mildly perplexing puzzle clicking into place.

"Is it true?" Felicity demanded, finding an echo of that righteous indignation that had brought her here in the first place. "If so, you must realize he is far too young. One of the youngest to have been put through the Harrowing, if my readings on it are to be believed. Really, sixteen?"

"You are not upset about his youth," Wynne said, ever the shrewd one.

Felicity's rant was cut short at that, and she took a moment to muster herself. "Well, it's just… the timing. They intend to take him to Ostagar, don't they?" Bitterly, she glared at Wynne, daring the elder to deny it. "And why not, I suppose? A mage as talented at wreaking destruction and havoc as him ought to do quite well at decimating an army of darkspawn, right? And I'm sure the little cretin would enjoy it, too. Everyone benefits."

"Felicity." Wynne's voice was gentle, but firm. "Even if the rumors were true that Kazar will be Harrowed soon—which, given his natural aptitude, I would certainly not be surprised—I assure you that Irving has no intention of sending him to Ostagar. As you said yourself, Mr. Surana is far too young, and he has that… rather volatile personality to account for as well. Rest assured that neither Uldred nor I would permit him to come with us."

That soothed her outrage. "Truly?"

"Truly. Now go attend to your studies, my dear. I suspect you have a number of projects waiting for you."

Felicity sighed and nodded, retrieving her book from where she'd set it. She turned to leave, and then paused once more.

"Really, now…"

Felicity studied her slippers. "Stay safe, Wynne. I couldn't have gotten as far as I have here without you… I fear the other enchanters find me quite insufferable."

"Hardly true, my dear, but I do appreciate the sentiment. Farewell."

"Farewell." Felicity cast one last smile back, then finally left. Her step was much lighter as she crossed the Tower back to her studies.