A couple of days, and help from the Duenna to find them each a suit of high-class clothing that actually fit, barring a few on-the-spot alterations, and Maric and Loghain were ready to beard the templars at Antiva's Circle of Magi.

Loghain was unaccountably nervous as they approached the white stone tower. "What's wrong with you?" Maric asked. "You're acting like a boy paying court to his first girl."

"I hate diplomatic missions," Loghain said. "I never know what I'm supposed to do. Should I announce you? Am I supposed to speak for you? You know that would likely be disastrous."

"Relax; I'll take the lead. You just stand there and look decorative."

"My daughter would never decorate with any sculpture as ugly as I."

"Not everyone has your daughter's good taste."

They entered the building. A templar greeted them at the door with a flurry of Antivan.

"I hope you got all that," Loghain whispered to Maric. "I only caught the words for 'get out.'"

The templar switched to Common. "This is the Circle of Magi. Unless you have official business with the templars, I shall have to ask you gentlemen to leave."

"We have official business," Maric said. "I wish to speak to your Knight-Commander. In the name of the sovereign of Ferelden."

"Wait here."

The Knight-Commander arrived in due course. "Who is it who claims to speak for the King of Ferelden?" the man asked without preamble.

"The King of Ferelden," Maric said, with one of his brightest smiles. "Maric Theirin, at your service."

The Knight-Commander stared at him. "King Maric of Ferelden was lost at sea," he said. "He's dead."

"Clearly your information is incorrect, Knight-Commander," Loghain said, dryly.

"I assure you, Knight-Commander, as unlikely as it seems, I am the King of Ferelden. This is my friend, Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir of Gwaren. If you doubt my identity you can rest assured. No man would have the balls to impersonate Loghain."

The Knight-Commander looked from Maric to Loghain and back again. "You do closely resemble the King of Ferelden…" he said slowly. "But portraits I have seen of Loghain make the man look like a dragon or a hound."

Loghain scowled at the man, and the templar peered closely at him. After a moment, clearly unsettled, the Knight-Commander turned back to Maric. "What can I do for Your Majesty?"

"Ancient Elven artifacts…" The mage browsed the shelves of the Circle library almost as if she'd forgotten the existence of the men. "Well, if this mirror of yours was hidden by the elves themselves things could get complicated. It would be easier to find if it were hidden by the Tevinters. I know a lot about the ways the Tevinters had of hiding things."

The mage was rather pretty. Maric straightened his collar and stepped closer to her. Loghain rolled his eyes.

"Excuse me, Githa, was it? Your Common is excellent," Maric said.

"I grew up in the Ferelden Circle," Githa said. "That's why they stuck me with you. No language barrier."

"Why were you sent to Antiva?" Maric asked.

She shrugged. She still did not look at the King or his companion. "Search me. Random shuffling is fairly common. They don't like to have too many mages of one specialty in one Circle."

"And your specialty is…?"

"Historical research, actually, but what they're worried about is the fact that I'm trained in the school of Spirit magic. The templars get very uptight about Spirit mages. They consider it a grey area."

"I thought Spirit magic was concerned with healing?" Loghain asked. She turned to look for the first time, and flashed him a brilliant smile.

"It is."

"Templars consider healing magic a 'grey area?' I knew there was a reason I hated templars."

Githa chuckled. "You and me both. Now, back to work. There's a book in the Ferelden Circle that has all sorts of information about ancient Arlathan - probably all the information the modern world has on the place - but I don't know for certain we have a copy here. The codex organization here is…different, to say the least. That and almost everything is written in Antivan."

She scanned through a few more shelves. "Ah! This will help us." She plucked a book off a low shelf and took it over to a nearby table.

Maric hovered over her shoulder as she paged through the tome. Uncomfortable, she slid away from him, and bumped into Loghain. She smiled up at him briefly but made no effort to move away.

"The Arlathan elves knew that the Tevinter Imperium was going to destroy their kingdom, so they took steps to protect some of their greatest treasures," she said. "The spell they used was simple but very effective; no one who did not possess the blood of Arlathan could breach it. If your mirror was hidden by the elves, we can reach it, if no one beat us to it."

"How? None of us has the blood of Arlathan," Maric said. Loghain's sudden furtive expression passed without notice.

"We'd need a bit of elven blood, is all. Erm…I'd prefer you don't tell the Knight-Commander about that when you ask for my release. It's not blood magic, not really - the templars use almost exactly the same technique to track escaped Circle mages - but they wouldn't be happy about it nonetheless."

"How do we get elven blood?" Maric asked. "That's kind of…ick."

"Oh, I'm sure there's someone out there willing to prick a finger for a few coppers."

"We'll cross that bridge when - and if - we come to it," Loghain said, uncomfortably. "Are you certain you wish to join us, Miss? Our accommodations are not particularly…comfortable…and there's no telling how long we would need your assistance. It might be better to fob the job off on another mage. A man."

Githa bridled. "Do you think, because I'm a woman, I can't handle discomfort?"

"We're lodging at a whorehouse, Miss."

"…Ah. Well. As long as no one tries to hire me, I expect I'll manage."

Loghain shrugged. "As you wish."