102. A Tale of Two Maleficarum

It had been a rough couple of weeks rebuilding Redcliffe, but Jowan wasn't going to complain. They had needed all the free hands they could get for the clean-up, so they hadn't forced him back into his cell yet, pending good behavior. Sure, he had to endure a guardsman following him around at all times, but he'd grown up in the Circle Tower, and so this wasn't anything new.

Not being allowed in the same room as Connor was a bit tougher. Jowan worried, sometimes, that they were just letting the child roam the castle freely, undertrained as he was. No matter how many times he tried to explain, Teagan just didn't seem to grasp that it was the boy's lack of training that made him susceptible to demons, not necessarily Jowan's influence.

But blood magic was contagious. Apparently. And that meant he had to pick up and leave any room that Connor walked into, or else his guard would run and tell Teagan, and he'd be thrown back into his cell.

He was, however, trusted with the care of Eamon… a fact he found ironic. It was largely because he was Tower-trained, which meant he knew enough herbalism to keep the comatose man clean and pain-free. Maybe they figured that caring for an invalid was a duty befitting a malificar?

That's where he was when the Wardens returned, anyway: washing the old man's bedpan under the watchful eye of his guard. That was when the door opened and Felicity Amell walked into the room.

The woman paused when she saw Jowan, and he did the same. He'd never known her all that well at the Circle, despite being of similar age and sharing a lot of classes. He'd always been a bit jealous of her ability to grasp every single lesson set before her, to be honest.

"Jowan," she said in greeting, and he was surprised that her voice lacked the hostility it had held against him when she had left.

"Felicity," he returned uncertainly. "When did you get back?"

"About ten minutes ago." She stepped more fully into the room, digging through her bag as she came to Eamon's bedside. She, like Jowan, didn't seem to mind the guard.

Felicity settled on the opposite side of the bed, ignoring Jowan as she pulled a couple bottles from her bag. Then, she leaned over Eamon and started checking his vital signs.

Jowan swallowed. "Are the others with you?"

She glanced over at him, like an afterthought. "Yes. Teagan was pulling them into his office when I left. I thought it more prudent to check on Eamon." She turned her attention back to the comatose man. "Has there been any change?"

"None. I've been keeping him going, but he's never so much as twitched to show any improvement."

Felicity nodded. "Then we will have to hope the others find the Ashes."

Jowan fidgeted for a moment, his stomach twisting in knots. Then, he stood. "Um… excuse me."

He rushed out of the room, his guard following at his heels.

The arl's room was at the very back of the castle's second floor, which meant that Jowan passed several people on the long trek toward the entrance.

As he passed one group of retainers, he heard an old woman who had been there during the siege mutter, "…just so tragic, to lose one of the few Wardens we have left." Jowan's stomach twisted further. They'd lost a Warden? As in, one had died? Oh Maker, who?

Jowan stopped outside the arl's office, straightening his robes. Then, he cracked the door open and poked his head in.

Teagan was speaking. "…attacked our men just north of the Bannorn. We need to act soon, whether Eamon can be roused or not."

"Loghain's directed actual men against us?" the Cousland man asked. He paced, and the other Wardens respectfully gave him plenty of room to do so. Jowan didn't blame them… Cousland was scary. "Do we know who contributed men on either side?"

Teagan nodded. "I suppose it shouldn't surprise you that Amaranthine has been pivotal in quashing resistance to Loghain's regency."

Cousland's fists clenched. "That does not surprise me, no."

While they spoke, Jowan did a headcount, but he didn't know anyone else in the room, save the mabari. There was a red-headed dwarf, an underdressed woman, and… a Qunari? Maker! But no elven mages.

"Howe detected the Wardens' interest in Eamon, and tried to march on Redcliffe. However, South Reach blocked his forces before he could pass the Bannorn. Arl Bryland has been staunch in his support of our side."

"He's a good man. My father always spoke highly of him."

"From what I've heard, you're far more familiar with his daughter."

"Don't, Teagan."

The room fell quiet at the man's growl, and Jowan cleared his throat quietly. Cousland spun on him, and Jowan flinched. "Um… hello."

"You." The Warden was upon him in an instant. Jowan yelped as Cousland hauled him up by the collar and slammed against a wall. The mage clutched at the man's steel fist, his feet dangling six inches above the ground.

"Did you know?" the Warden growled, and Jowan was—not for the first time—struck by how similar the man was to the mabari he prized so much.

"Know what?" he squeaked.

"Blood magic. Kazar. Did you know?"

Oh no, they'd found out. They'd killed Kazar, and that was why he wasn't here, and now they were going to kill Jowan. "…yes?"

Cousland's grip tightened. "When?"

"I…"

Cousland slammed him back against the wall, and Jowan thought that the Warden really would kill him. "When, Jowan?"

"I don't know!" Cousland's fist tightened as if to slam him back again. "I think it was during the siege! Connor's demon!"

"What?" Teagan gasped.

Cousland's hand pressed into his throat, and Jowan sputtered. "You're saying Kazar learned blood magic from Connor's demon?"

"Yes! I-I think so!" he choked out. He couldn't breathe.

"Easy, captain." That rumbling voice was from a shadow to one side, and Jowan jumped to realize there was another dwarf there. "Don't wanna break him, do ya?"

Cousland let go, and Jowan dropped, leaning back against the wall to keep his feet. Cousland loomed over him. "What deal did he strike?"

"I don't know, honest!"

The Warden turned to Teagan. "Has Connor been acting strangely? Is the demon still there?"

The noble shook his head. "As far as I can tell, the boy is entirely back to normal. As normal as expected given the loss of his mother, anyway."

"If you wanna know, boss, just ask the elf."

"Just walk up and ask him nicely, should I?" Cousland snapped.

"'Twould certainly be amusing to watch you try," the woman hummed.

And Jowan was too relieved to hear that Kazar was apparently still alive to guard his mouth. "I could ask him."

Cousland and Teagan both snapped suspicious eyes to him, but the darker dwarf chuckled. "There, see? No problem."

"Garott, you obviously don't know who this is."

"Jowan, right? The kid's best and only friend since he was four?" Cousland stared at him, and the dwarf smirked. "Turns out, the kid does more than spit and glare, if you just sit down to talk to him once in a while."

Jowan nodded. Everyone at the Circle had always wondered what Jowan saw in Kazar, but this here was a guy who got it. "I'm worried about him. He jumps into things too fast. I promise, if I can figure out what he did, I'll tell you right away."

Cousland stared at him for a long time, and then nodded, and Jowan wondered when the man had become so commanding. "Very well. Last I knew, he was heading up to the ramparts."

Jowan nodded and, just to be sure, bowed as he left. He skittered out of the room, bumping into his guard as he went. Then, with his armored follower in tow, he started toward the stairs up to the castle walls.

Sure enough, he found Kazar on the castle walls, overlooking Lake Calenhad in the same spot he had been during the Wardens' last visit to Redcliffe. This time, Kazar wasn't looking north-east, toward the Circle Tower, but rather northwest, to the far-off shapes of the Frostback Mountains.

Kazar gestured as Jowan neared, and the guard behind him yelped. A glance back showed that the man was trapped behind a wall of fire.

When Jowan faced his friend, he was startled by the amused smirk the elf cast the guard. "That's far enough for you, I think." He turned his attention to his fellow mage. "Hello, Jowan."

Jowan froze, because Kazar was smiling at him. It was a cocky, amused smile, just like the ones he'd used to wear back at the Circle Tower. He hadn't seen this smile since Kazar had taken the Grey.

"Stop staring, Jowan. It makes you look like a simpleton."

A laugh burst out of him, and he closed the distance between them to stand beside him against the balustrade. "You're in a good mood."

"I suppose I am." Kazar turned his gaze back out over the lake.

"Even though the others know about… you know?"

Kazar snorted. "My blood magic? Yeah, they know about it. It's saved their asses a half dozen times by now."

"Wait… you've been using it?" That… wasn't good. He thought. He'd only used his own in emergencies, and even being careful he could barely fight back the demons that pestered him in the Fade each night.

"Of course." Kazar rolled his eyes. "What's the point of having it if you don't use it?"

Something in his friend's tone rang alarm bells in Jowan's head… Kazar said that like it was obvious fact. It shouldn't be… not with blood magic.

Kazar was watching him out of the corner of his eye. "I wouldn't expect you to be able to understand."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

Kazar laughed, head thrown back freely, and Jowan goggled. "I'd forgotten what a nervous little mouse you were."

He smiled shakily. "Well, you've always been bold enough for the both of us."

"Very true." Kazar paused thoughtfully. "Still, you have your uses." It alarmed Jowan that he couldn't tell whether the elf was joking. "Without your bumbling, I never would have become a Warden, and would still be under the thumb of those damned Templars."

"Glad I could be of service, I guess?"

Kazar chuckled. "Oh, you certainly should be." There was something going on here. Kazar's tone was… off. The elf had always been cocky, but not like this. "I wouldn't be what I am today without your cowardice, and for that, you should be commended."

Cowardice? Commended? For that matter: simpleton? Kazar didn't talk like this. Jowan was too uneasy to respond.

Kazar didn't seem to care. He turned back to looking out over the lake. "I think I might be strong enough, now. If we meet the archdemon, I'll be able to take it out."

"With the help of your fellows, of course."

"Ha! Those fools couldn't handle a woman shapeshifted as a dragon. They'll have no chance against one with the soul of an old god." He turned his eyes back to Jowan, and they burned with excited fervor. "We saw the archdemon in the Deep Roads. We know where it is. All I'd need to do is go down there again as I am now and I could take it out… I could singlehandedly end the Blight in one blow! Those mortals are just holding me back!"

Jowan felt his world rock. It was a slip… one that Kazar obviously didn't realize he'd said. The small elf turned back to gazing out over the lake… toward the location of the archdemon, Jowan realized, and it was all Jowan could do to stay upright and breathe as panic crawled up his spine.

Mortals. As in, Kazar wasn't. As in, Kazar had become what all mages knew never to become. And with all the pride he was showing, Jowan had no illusions about what manner of creature Kazar was. Oh Maker, Kazar was an abomination, and it was all Jowan's fault.

It was all he could do to nod and hold back tears as his friend continued to monologue, oblivious to Jowan's turmoil. Thank the Maker that Pride was by definition self-centered, because it would have detected Jowan's realization otherwise. Asking Kazar about his deal with Connor's demon was the least of their worries now, because who could guess what sort of dangerous concoction a talented, volatile mage and a Major Pride Demon would create? And worse than that was the clawing, tearing guilt.

He had done this. He had told the demon about Kazar. He had begged Kazar to help destroy his phylactery, and then fled, leaving his friend to have no choice but to take the Grey. He had bumbled Connor's education, leading to Kazar going into the Fade and meeting Connor's demon, all alone.

Kazar, his best friend, was gone. And it was all Jowan's fault.