66. Reunions and Revelations

Wynne wasn't entirely sure why she requested Irving's permission to go with the Wardens. Perhaps it was her maternal instincts kicking in, that she worried for the young people. Perhaps it was because she had missed Miss Amell, one of her protégées, in the past months. Perhaps it was her wish to do something important and right before she crossed the Veil.

Whatever it was, she now found herself standing on the deck of a ferryboat crossing Lake Calenhad, watching the distant silhouette of Redcliffe Castle draw nearer and nearer. The afternoon sun felt unusually bright after so many days in the darkness of the Circle Tower, and the early summer wind was brisk and warm on her skin.

She sipped the tea Felicity had brewed, smiling as she noted the presence of certain calming herbs in the mix. It was so like the dear girl, to worry that she might be anxious, when it was the Wardens who should, by all rights, be nervous wrecks.

It would only be an hour or so now before they arrived; after nearly a day on the boat, they would no doubt be happy to see land again.

And here was one now who would be particularly happy to see land, stumbling across the deck to cling to the side. The poor dwarf retched once again, and Wynne politely averted her eyes until she was done.

"Ancestors…" Marnan mumbled dryly. "And I used to think having no land above me was unnerving."

Wynne hummed and walked over to the dwarf. She laid her free hand on the woman's back and sent her a bit of healing magic to settle her stomach. The mage also offered her cup of tea, which Marnan politely waved away.

"Thank you," Marnan sighed. She turned and leaned back against the railing, still a bit green. "Where does all this water come from, anyway? Does it all fall from the sky?"

Wynne chuckled. "That is part of it, yes."

"We have lakes underground, of course. Springs, and streams from runoff. But it's always from up above… from the surface. I never wondered where it came from before the surface. At some point, you have to run out of 'up.'"

Wynne leaned against the railing next to her. "There is a philosophy in there somewhere, I think."

"If there is, I'm too damned tired to think of it." Marnan closed her eyes against the sun. "The first thing I'm going to do when I get solid ground under me again is fall asleep on the nearest bed. Or cot. Or large domestic animal. As long as it is soft, I will not care."

"Your stomach bothered you last night? I thought Felicity provided you with a potion to soothe it."

"She did. But she should have provided Leliana with a sleeping potion. Sharing cabin space with a bard is not advisable for those who would rather rest than hear tales from far-off lands all night."

"Ah, I see," Wynne said, trying to stay appropriately solemn.

Marnan angled a shallow smile at her. "Oh, go ahead and laugh. Someone should."

"I apologize, Marnan," she chuckled. "I mean no disrespect."

"I know. I suppose it is better that than listening to Felicity scribble into her codex all night. At least Leliana's stories are interesting."

Wynne chuckled again, because she was the one who had shared cabin space with the younger mage. "I admit, being old does have its advantages. One of those is falling asleep easily, despite incessant quill scratching."

"If only we could all be so fortunate," Marnan sighed with a half laugh. She fell silent and leaned back against the balustrade, and Wynne resumed her watch. The castle was closer now. Not much longer.

What she did not have the heart, nor the right, to mention was the fact that Felicity had done more the night before than write in her book (though, yes, there was a good deal of that... Wynne should have expected the girl would take to documenting her travels once she was out of the Tower). As it happened, Wynne had awakened in the wee hours of the morning to hear the girl stifling tears into her pillow.

Felicity did not seem to want anyone else to know, however, even Wynne. This was a surprise to the enchanter, who was used to the younger mage storming into her chambers at the slightest upset and venting until Wynne had relented and agreed to help remedy whatever had upset her. Then again, even Wynne had no cure for what affected the girl now.

Wynne did not think it wise for Felicity to bottle herself up as she apparently had been, and the enchanter had to remind herself not to meddle overmuch. She had pushed one apprentice away by being too overbearing; she could not do so again.

"AAAEEEEE!"

Marnan and Wynne both jumped as a shriek rent the air, followed by the thundering tread of heavy steps coming from belowdecks. A moment later, Alistair burst out onto the deck, laughing and clutching a sheet of paper in his hand.

"Alistair, give it back!" Felicity followed four steps behind, her face blushing darkly. Oh dear.

Alistair crossed straight to the balustrade next to Wynne, holding the sheet of paper out at arm's length over the water. "No need to be embarrassed! I think it makes me look quite dashing!"

Felicity leaned against the rail next to him, trying to snatch the paper back, but her reach was no match for his. "It's an… anatomical study! Purely academic!"

"Which is why you were academically hiding it under your pillow," Alistair laughed, winking at Wynne and Marnan.

Leliana and Percival could be seen peeking up the stairs from belowdecks. The bard giggled knowingly, while young Lord Cousland merely rolled his eyes and disappeared again.

Wynne had been rather surprised to see the obvious chemistry between her protegee and this young Warden man… almost as surprised as she had been to learn about the girl's brief fling with Cullen. Whether with a Templar or a Warden, Felicity had always seemed to be a relatively asexual girl, especially compared to the notoriously insatiable appetites of certain other mages around the Tower. To learn that she had carried a brief affair, no matter how trivial, with a Templar… and that Wynne had never suspected… well, it indicated that Felicity was perhaps a great deal better at secrecy than she would have given the girl credit for.

This Alistair, though… he was a good enough boy, that much was obvious. But it was also obvious that this was distracting them, as evidenced by Felicity's difficulty with the Litany after the boy had been injured. Such distractions were dangerous in Grey Wardens. Certainly, Felicity was smart enough to see that, and that was why it hadn't gotten any farther than these flirtations.

On top of that, Felicity's apparent fixation on Templars was rather worrying. Wynne would so hate to see the girl make the same mistakes that she had. Perhaps that, if it progressed, would be worth some meddling.

"What is it?" Marnan asked her fellow Wardens slowly, as if against her better judgment.

"Well, remember yesterday, Marnan," Alistair sang, "when we were practicing our weapons out on deck?"

"Yes, of course."

"You remember that it was warm out here, so I had my shirt off?"

"Right. You and Percival both."

"And you remember Felicity, scribbling at what we thought was just another codex page?"

"I… think I see where this is going."

Felicity stopped trying to grab the paper with a huff, her skin dark with a very telling blush. "It was a motion study. In the future, it will help me to learn more precisely where the muscles are located during active poses, for more efficient healing mid-battle."

"Right," Alistair chuckled. "That's why they're all of me, and none of Percy."

"Well… I… but… just give it back!"

He laughed but relented and handed her the paper, and Felicity stalked off in a huff.

Even as the door belowdecks slammed shut behind her, he didn't stop grinning. "Is it bad that I think she's adorable even when she's angry? How hopeless is that, on a scale of one to ten?"

"About a six, I think." Marnan arched an eyebrow. "Realized it, have you?"

"In the Fade, yeah." He turned to face them, leaning against the railing. Today, he was dressed in comfortable travel clothes, like most of them, rather than his borrowed Templar armor (the only full set of armor available, after his previous suit had been crushed). It was easy to forget how large the boy was, when he wore armor, but it was hard to deny it in a simple tunic and breeches. "But after that whole Cullen thing… I don't really have the courage to tell her."

"That doesn't stop you from teasing her, I see," Wynne chided gently.

"I can't help it. I'm weak. And bored. And she's really pretty."

"And here I thought most boys grew out of pulling pigtails," Wynne said thoughtfully.

"Alistair is very much a child at heart," Marnan said.

"Hey! I am right here, you know!"

Both women laughed. Wynne glanced across the lake and saw that the village docks were in sight. It would only be a matter of minutes, now. "It looks like we shall be arriving soon. I shall go see if I can't stir the other three to gather their things… and perhaps I shall smooth over a certain girl's temper while I'm at it?"

Alistair gave her a pair of puppy eyes. "Yes please."

Shaking her head, she went below deck to fetch the other three. Sure enough, they did arrive within ten minutes, and everyone was relieved to be on solid ground again, judging by the groans and sighs as they disembarked. Even the dog bounded around the dock happily.

"Well, this place looks much better," Alistair said, hefting the sack of lyrium dust they'd managed to collect from the caves under the Tower. He looked around the bustling village with a smile.

Percival, on the other hand, frowned (though that was hardly a change from usual). "A bit too much better… where are the barricades?"

"Took 'em down," said one of the dockworkers who was helping them tie off the ferry. He smiled at the Wardens. "Don't need 'em anymore, now the shamblers are gone for good."

Both men paled, and Wynne could guess, judging by the story they'd told the women, why they were worried. "What do you mean," Alistair said slowly, "by 'gone for good'?"

The dockworker shrugged. "They were gone for a bit, right? When the first Wardens came by? But then they came back. It wasn't until the second group of Wardens went up to the castle that they stopped altogether."

The Wardens exchanged glances.

"What second group?" Percival asked in a low voice.

"I dunno. Bunch of elves. They're staying up at the castle, though they'll come down to town every once in a while. Just look for an armed elf, and safe bet that's a Warden."

"Thank you for telling us," Marnan said diplomatically. "That's good to hear."

The dockworker saluted and wandered off.

The group immediately huddled up, and Alistair snapped out, "Kazar, that little twerp! He performed the ritual, I just know it!"

Wynne had known that Kazar Surana had been recruited to the order alongside Felicity, but she hadn't expected quite this hostility from a fellow Warden. "Alistair," the enchanter chided. "Calm down."

"Calm down?! Are you joking?! He would have had to kill someone, Wynne! Unless the Dalish elves suddenly have huge stores of lyrium lying about!"

"We should wait until we hear his side, no?" Leliana said. "Finian never would have let him hurt anyone needlessly. Not without reason."

Marnan snorted a laugh. "Keep in mind you speak of the man who talked a group of highwaymen into walking to their own deaths."

"…I still would have liked to see that."

What? Wynne tried to detect whether Marnan was joking, but could detect no humor in her tone.

"Whatever happened," Percival said in a low voice, "standing here arguing about it isn't going to help. Let's go up to the castle and check out the situation there."

"Since when are you the practical one?" Alistair grumped. Nonetheless, he followed as Percy started up to the castle, and the rest trailed behind them with their travel loads.

Wynne ran an assessing gaze over the villagers as they passed. The town had the feel of a place at the beginning stages of rebuilding: with the remains of chaos being picked through and cleared bit by bit. According to the boys, the village had been under siege. It was good to see the town in good spirits after such disaster… though she did see a couple long faces.

They walked up a long hill, and Wynne was soon digging her staff into the ground just to keep up with the young people. At one point, Marnan offered to take her bag; Wynne hesitated, but then accepted, because there was really no point in wearing herself out and slowing all of them down.

As they passed a windmill, Hugo sniffed a tree and started growling. This made Percival stop and, since he was in the lead, the rest followed suit.

"What is it, boy?"

The dog turned up the path and barked.

A white wolf rounded the corner in the cliff-side path ahead of them, its ears pricked. When it saw Hugo, it lowered its head and growled in return

"Oh goody," Alistair groaned. "A welcoming party. What do you want to bet there's more of them just around the corner, ready to eat us?"

A familiar elf stepped out behind the wolf. "Actually, no. No one is eating anyone." She knelt down beside the wolf, and whispered to it, rubbing the scruff of its neck. Slowly, the hostility left the wolf's stance.

Out of habit, Wynne ran an assessing eye over Meila Mahariel. The girl had made a miraculous recovery indeed, showing no sign whatsoever of having carried the Taint for so long, when most people who survived it at least had lesions and growths.

"Meila!" Felicity cried, and Wynne was rather startled when the girl ran up the hill and enveloped the other in a hug. From the look on the elf's face, Meila was equally surprised.

This broke the ice, and the rest of them climbed the hill in lighter spirits, obviously happy to see their fellow. All except the dog, who hung his head and followed Percival reluctantly.

"You look well," Marnan said as they pulled up beside her. "Is it just me or do I see a few more beads in your hair?"

"Yes, you do."

"You have a wolf now?" Alistair looked quizzically at the animal. "Where did you get a wolf?"

"In the forest, I would assume," Percival said flatly. "Hugo, play nice." The mabari whined uncertainly. "Just because the wolf marked your territory doesn't mean you can glare at him like that." The dog gave a short 'woof' and Wynne swore it was practically a conversation. Mabari were intelligent, reportedly, but could they really be that smart?

"This is Fang," Meila said, extricating herself from Felicity's hug with obvious discomfort over the gesture. It was a wonder that she tolerated it. "He is not a pet; he is a friend. We helped him and his pack in the Brecilian Forest, and so now he helps us."

Alistair stared. "You… helped a pack of wolves."

"It is a long story." Her eyes fell on Wynne. The girl's jaw hardened and she stepped forward, and Wynne braced herself, unsure what the proud Dalish elf had in mind.

To her surprise, Meila bowed her head. "I never thanked you, hahren, for what you did for me. You saved my life at Ostagar, and for that I can never hope to repay you."

Wynne smiled, even as everyone else stared at the elf in shock. "I need no thanks; we should all be so lucky as to help the Grey Wardens. All the same, your thanks are appreciated."

Meila nodded sharply and turned away… perhaps uncomfortable. The rest of the Wardens watched her with wide eyes and slack jaws. "What is it?"

"Who…" Alistair sputtered. "Who are you, and what did you do to the stand-offish Dalish elf we all knew and were kind of afraid of?"

Meila stiffened, her expression going stony. "You would prefer I go back to calling you all shemlen and running off into the forest alone?"

"No no. This is good. Forget I said anything."

"How were the Dalish?" Leliana asked, and the elven woman stiffened further. The gaze she leveled at the bard was cool. "Was it much different from your own clan?"

"…yes. A bit. But it was not a bad difference; it gave us a chance to share our different songs and stories amongst ourselves, and both with Finian and Kazar."

"Somehow, I can't really imagine Kazar singing along with the Dalish," Alistair snorted.

"He did. He has quite a good singing voice, as a matter of fact."

Wynne wasn't the only one to chuckle as Alistair's mouth dropped. "Yes, the Circle Tower does try to teach basic pitch and tone. To protect the Templars' hearing, as I understand it, since they're the ones who have to listen to us in the baths."

Marnan cast her a worried look. "They even watch you in the baths?"

"It's not nearly so bad as that," Felicity said quickly. "They merely stand outside the door. You do have to be quick, though… if you take more than three minutes to wash, they assume you're practicing blood magic and bang down the door." Felicity rolled her eyes. "Maker forbid you run out of soap and have to ask them to fetch more."

"Although," Percival said grimly, "their paranoia does make sense, given recent events. Uldred and the others had to practice their craft somewhere."

The Wardens fell silent at that, thinking for a moment.

Alistair turned to the elf. "Meila, what happened here? Did Kazar do the blood magic ritual?"

She eyed him a moment before answering. "He did, yes."

"That little son of-"

"Alistair," Felicity sighed.

"I do not understand," Meila said. "Why is this a bad thing? Was it not preferable to exterminate the demon as soon as possible?"

"Not if someone had to die," Alistair said through gritted teeth.

"People were dying anyway," Meila said flatly. "Every night, those things came down to attack the town. Many people died. If we had to take one life, freely given, to stop the deaths of many, then it was a necessary sacrifice, for the good of the community."

"So the undead were coming down every night?" Marnan sighed. "That's why you did the ritual?"

"Who was sacrificed?" Percival said very softly, though it was apparent by his clenched fists that his calm was very fragile. "Was it Lady Isolde?"

"Yes."

Alistair cursed, and Percy abruptly turned and walked three steps away, breathing deeply.

"I can't..." Alistair sputtered. "I can't believe this! How could you guys do this? Why?!"

"I do not understand the question," Meila said. "I just told you why."

"He's just upset," Felicity said softly to the elf.

"Just?! I'm not just upset!" He turned toward Felicity, but didn't seem to have the heart to yell at her, so he spun on Meila instead. "I'm really, really, really upset! And pissed off! We had a plan!"

"And so did we," Meila said stiffly, meeting him glare-for-glare. "I understand the mother's death was not ideal-"

"Not ideal?!" Alistair snapped. "Now you look here; just because she's human doesn't mean that she d-"

Meila had a hunting knife out and at Alistair's throat in a flash, and now, instead of stiff and stoic, she looked livid. "How dare you imply such a thing, alas. That woman's sacrifice was one of the most noble things I've seen any of your kind do, and I will not have you belittling it, nor me, by implying that we allowed it out of hatred."

"We?" Percival's voice asked softly. He was still turned away from them, his stance a picture of tension.

"All three of us agreed that it was the best path." Meila stepped back stifly and put her knife away.

"Still, it is very sad," Leliana said, "for the boy to lose his mother in such a way. Because of his own actions, even."

Alistair took a shaky breath and dropped his head into his hands. "Eamon's never going to forgive us."

"Is Bann Teagan still in charge?" Percival asked, turning back to the group. Meila nodded, and the group started moving again, this time with Meila and the wolf in tow. The atmosphere between them was very wrought.

"This Connor…" Wynne said reluctantly, breaking the tense silence. "Now that the demon is taken care of, he will need to be transferred to the Tower as soon as possible."

"Perhaps we should wait until his father is awake first, no?" Leliana said. "So that he at least has a chance to say goodbye."

Wynne frowned, unsure that was wise, but the others nodded, and it was not her place to tell all of them what was right and wrong. No matter how much she may have wanted to.

They climbed the hill to a grand stone castle, the courtyard alive with militiamen and knights running through their paces. The white wolf broke away from them at this point, disappearing into the woods by the castle. Up a staircase and through a doorway, they entered into a throne room that was depressingly marked by bloodstains and empty of anyone who might guide them. Here, the path branched off, and the Wardens paused uncertainly.

"Where do you suppose everyone is?" Marnan asked.

Percy turned to his hound. "Hugo, find Fin." The dog barked happily and jetted off. He led them through another hall with more doors, and paused at a closed one opposite them. There, the dog sat and barked again.

A moment later, a grinning elven face poked out. "Hugo!" The mabari tackled the elf to the ground, laying sloppy kisses all over the elf's laughing face.

Wynne had seen the young man before, but only in passing. He had poked his head in while she was treating Meila at Ostagar, asking after her recovery. He seemed a nice enough boy, though she didn't know him nearly as well as she did the other two elven Wardens.

"Finian, is that a Dalish lyre?" Leliana said excitedly, breaking the silence as if it had never been.

"Yeah," the elf replied from under the dog. "I was hoping you could… blegh, Hugo!... teach me how to play it… C'mon, gettoff… maybe?"

The bard grinned. "Of course!"

The door Finian had come through opened wider, revealing what appeared to be an office beyond it. Several men stood around a desk inside it, including a man in knight's armor, a man in chainmail, and another elf.

The man in chainmail stepped out with a broad smile. "Ah, Alistair, you've finally returned! You were taking so long, we were worried you'd run into trouble."

"Yeah, Teagan, funny story… we did."

"You'll have to tell me some other time. For now, come in! You're just in time for Ser Donall's report on the Sacred Ashes!"

"You've found them?" Leliana gasped in awe, and Wynne was very confused. She had heard nothing about the sacred artifact until now… at least not as the Urn pertained to the Wardens.

"No, no. But we may have made some progress."

They were ushered into the little room, which swiftly became cramped with all of them packed in. The man in knight's armor, who introduced himself as Ser Donall, explained that he had heard the Chantry scholar, Ferdinand Genitivi, was currently researching it.

This, as Wynne expected, elicited an excited gasp from Felicity. "Brother Genitivi? The Brother Genitivi? Oh, I've read all of his books; he's the Chantry's foremost scholar in the current Age. Where is he? Is he here?"

Ser Donall laughed. "No, last I heard, he was residing in Denerim. Sounds like as good a place to start as any."

Felicity turned to Finian. "You're from Denerim, right? Do you know where he lives? Have you ever seen him? Would he mind if we stopped by?"

Finian gave her a baffled look. "Felicity, I'm an elf. In Denerim, elves and famous Chantry scholars don't tend to link arms and take strolls down the boardwalk." He shrugged. "Though I suppose I could help ask around."

Wynne smiled and laid a hand on the younger mage's shoulder to calm her. "All in time, dear." Still, it was good to hear the girl excited about something again. "What's this about the Urn of Sacred Ashes, now?"

"Arl Eamon's sick," Finian began.

"You mean he was poisoned," Alistair growled.

"Right." The elf didn't miss a eat. "Thing is, nothing works to cure him. So, the Guerrin household figures, if they're stuck praying for miracles, why not help it along a little?"

Wynne hummed in thought. "Well, that certainly is a good thought. But I am not unfamiliar with curative mixtures myself. Perhaps I might try my hand at curing your arl?"

There was a low chuckle from near the wall, where the other elf leaned against it and watched them with dancing eyes. "Trust me: no amount of healing herbs will be able to cure that poison." The elf spoke in an Antivan accent. "It is a rather ingenius mixture, actually. A little nightshade, a drop of asp poison, a good dollop of sleeping potion… well, I dare not reveal the entire recipe—trade secret, you understand—but rest assured it is quite complex. It is also obviously made with the express purpose of not being curable, should your amateur assassin have been discovered. Which he was." The man chuckled again. "Considering how little expense your Teyrn Loghain took in finding the vessel to carry out the assassination, the poison itself would have been excessively expensive. I'm rather insulted none of us were hired for the job."

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Wynne, for her part, was wondering whether she could take this man's word that healing magic would do no good for the arl.

Alistair's eyes narrowed. "And just who are you supposed to be?"

"Ah, my apologies. It is very rude of me not to introduce myself." The elf pushed off from the wall and swept a deep bow. "I am Zevran Arainai of the Crows of Antiva."

Alarm bells immediately tolled in Wynne's head, and she abruptly pushed any of the children near her away from the dangerous man.

"You're an assassin," Leliana said, with far less horror and far more fascination than Wynne would have liked. Really, now.

"Well, yes, that goes without saying." The man's smile remained bright, and Wynne was disturbed to see how their fear and hatred amused him. "As a matter of fact, I was hired by your Teyrn Loghain to murder you all. Don't worry… I probably won't do it."

A number of weapons left their respective holsters and sheaths, and the assassin's grin didn't fade. It brightened, in fact, when Finian slid between him and them… putting his back to the assassin.

"Hey, hey," Finian said placatingly. "It's all right. He's joking about that last part." The elven Warden sent a glare back at the assassin. "His sense of humor has appalling timing."

The assassin chuckled. "Ah, but we cannot all be silver-tongued rascals, my dear Warden."

"Fin," Alistair said slowly. He seemed to be developing an eye twitch. "Tell me you didn't know about this."

"Well, yeah. Considering we first met him when he was trying to kill us."

Meila, who was leaning against the opposite wall, spoke up now, her voice hard. "Perhaps one of you can talk some sense into him. I do not trust the assassin, and neither should any of us."

"An assassin," Percival said thoughtfully. "You're thinking to use him against Loghain?"

"Yes, exactly" Finian said in obvious relief. As eyes widened all around, he quickly added, "Not that I intend to assassinate Loghain, necessarily. It's just… a good card up the sleeve, you know? Just in case the civil war isn't resolving itself fast enough."

It was the same sort of staring that Meila had gotten outside. Wynne agreed that the idea was appalling, but the Wardens were staring as if the boy had grown a second head.

"Are you feeling all right?" Leliana ventured softly.

Finian sighed, exasperated. "These are desperate times. And if Loghain's desperate enough to send assassins after us, it's a good idea for us to have someone on our side who knows how they work. It's the same reasoning that we used when first testing Leliana. It's just that Zevran's profession is a bit… more taboo."

"Taboo?!" Alistair sputtered. "He's an assassin, Fin. He's going to kill us in our sleep; he just pretty much said so right to our faces!"

"He's not going to kill us," Finian said flatly, his smile dropping. Behind it was a creature who was much more... cunning. "The truth is, he already tried to kill us. And he failed, badly. That means that as soon as he leaves our company, the Crows will track him down and kill him in the most painful, most humiliating way possible. He has to stay with us—and keep us alive—to save his own skin. Do you seriously think I hadn't thought this through? That I'm that gullible?"

Again, shocked silence met the outburst.

"He stays," Finian said firmly. "As my man alone, if need be. If you have a problem with that, come talk to me later, but be warned that there isn't a sovereign's chance in the market that I'm discarding a card this valuable."

Wynne was sure that this course of action wasn't wise, but it seemed the young elf wouldn't be persuaded by his friends, so what chance did she have?

"Well, this is a pleasant twist," Alistair sighed. "Percival and me pick up a merchant on the road, while the girls recruit an extra healer. The elves? They pick up a murderer-for-hire. I wonder what Garott'll pick up in Orzammar? Maybe a reformed darkspawn? Or ooh, I know: Marnan's treacherous brother!"

"Don't even jest about that," Marnan said wide-eyed.

The door behind them opened, and a lightly tattooed head full of spiky strawberry blond hair poked in. "Oh look. I thought I heard a cat being drowned, but it turns out it's just Alistair's whining."

"Kazar," Alistair growled in return.

The young mage stepped into the room, and Wynne wasn't surprised to see Jowan's head poke in behind him. Since hearing that both mages were present in the same castle, she had figured as much. Jowan had always followered young Mr. Surana around like a puppy.

"So how was the Circle Tower?" Kazar said with narrowed eyes, looking around the room. "Have fun? Oh look, you picked up another naggy healer. Hurray."

"Kazar!" Felicity hissed.

"It's all right, Felicity," Wynne said gently. She nodded to the young man. "How are you, Kazar?"

He glared at her suspiciously through narrowed eyes. "Fine. Great. Why are you here?"

"I wish to help the Wardens." She smiled. "I believe that puts me in your service, rather than the other way around."

"Oh Kazar, it's awful!" Felicity burst out. "Abominations completely destroyed the Circle Tower!"

Kazar turned his narrow gaze to her. "And why should I care? I say good riddance!"

"You can't mean that. It was your home-"

"Only because they took me away from my real home. Let me repeat: good riddance."

"I care…" Jowan put in, wide-eyed. "What happened?"

Felicity turned immediately hostile. "Blood magic happened, Jowan."

Jowan's swallow was audible, and he shrank away. Kazar jumped in front of him protectively, his infamous temper sparking in his eyes. "An abomination took over here, too, and blood magic saved everyone."

"Saved everyone by killing Lady Isolde, you mean," Alistair snapped.

"That was her decision, Alistair," Finian broke in calmly. "She practically begged us to do it, because she knew her son was suffering."

"You too, Fin?"

"If not for Jowan's blood magic," Kazar said pointedly, "that village down there would be a smoking ruin right now."

"Right. Since when have you cared about helping people?"

"Whether you believe it or not, Templar, I am a Grey Warden just like you. I fucking care. Lay. Off." He spun and stalked out, and Jowan slipped out just in time to avoid the door as Kazar slammed it behind them.

"He has been more ornery as of late," Meila said blandly.

Alistair shook his head. "How can you tell?"

"Believe it or not, he has gotten better," Finian said softly. "The forest mellowed him a bit." He moved to the desk, where a sheaf of papers was set out. "Maybe he's getting restless, though. We all know how he loves to wreak destruction." Wynne had to nod to that. She had taught the boy from time to time, after all. And patched up victims of his temper tantrums. Finian's eyes suddenly lit with an idea. "Hey, since we're all here twiddling our thumbs anyway, maybe we can do something about the Urn."

Felicity leapt on it right away. "You mean track down Brother Genitivi?"

"Ooh, that would be amazing," Leliana breathed. "To see the remains of Andraste herself… can you imagine?"

"Is it wise to get so distracted from the Blight?" Marnan asked with a frown.

"It's not a distraction," Fin said. "It's helping Arl Eamon. Who, I remind you all, is pivotal in stopping this civil war among the nobility."

"So tracking down some human holy relic is pivotal?" Meila asked doubtfully.

"Not just a human relic," Leliana gushed. "Andraste's Ashes belong to the world!"

"I find that naïve."

"Well, it's true."

"We should leave as soon as possible," Felicity said, her eyes sparkling as she warmed to the idea. "The sooner we set out, the sooner we either find the Ashes or discover that they are unobtainable, and then the sooner we will be able to turn our attention back to the archdemon."

Marnan sighed. "In that case, I suppose we should leave tomorrow morning. Is everyone good with that?"

There were nods all around, and the various Wardens excused themselves to go pack and otherwise prepare themselves for the trip.

Wynne could only blink and try to absorb what she'd seen so far. These… children were the Grey Wardens upon whom the fate of Ferelden rested?

Perhaps it was fortunate she had elected to come with them, no matter the reason. They all had a lot of work ahead of them.