Chapter 24

"And he reached the end of the green, where the Wilds touch snow and frost, and there he did indeed find a cabin huddled against the wind. And there he found a lovely young woman tending a garden that grew even through the frost, and he approached her to ask after the witch.

'You have come far, good templar,' purred the young woman, exotic and dark in her beauty. 'And it is time that you should rest.'"

—excerpt from The Witch of the Wilds, as told by the minstrel Ensuelo

Líadan

The start of Líadan's morning meeting Meredith left her more confused than ever before. Kirkwall's Knight-Commander offered her tea and retained the appearance of utmost civility.

Their conversation began less so.

"Tell me," Meredith said as she set aside her cup, "what is it that makes you hate templars? Since my order largely pretends that Dalish Keepers are not mages, the Dalish generally haven't as many reasons to hate my order as do human and city elf apostates. Yet, you do, with the power of Andraste's holy pyre. Why?"

Líadan didn't uncross her arms. She knew a fight brewing when she saw one, and had no compulsion to bother stopping it. "Why do you hate mages?"

"I do not hate mages."

She lifted an eyebrow and sat back. "Really."

Meredith remained infuriatingly calm. "I hate the potential for danger that magic holds, not the mages themselves."

"A templar's sword is no less dangerous."

"One sword cannot kill an entire village. One sword does not require the massed abilities of an entire company of templars to stop it." Meredith's voice began to pick up in its forcefulness, and then dropped to a hard pronouncement. "The same is not so for an abomination."

And Líadan started to see how Meredith's mind worked when it came to mages. The Knight-Commander was right. It wasn't mages she hated. She hated abominations. But, to Meredith, all mages were walking pre-abominations instead of people with who happened to have magic. "A mage isn't an abomination," Líadan said. "An abomination is. There's a difference, and a rather large one."

"Each and every mage holds the strong potential to become one. Imprisonment is a kindness and, sometimes, so is death."

"You can't really believe that to be the answer. Imprisoning every mage without provocation? Without reason, aside from your belief that they might take in a demon? What would make you want to condemn every mage to imprisonment or death?" Líadan refused to bring up Tranquility. She didn't want to remind Meredith of her patience more than she already had. To do so would be an invitation to end it.

"My sister was a mage."

Líadan stared at her. It hadn't been the answer she'd been expecting. She'd honestly expected no answer at all. "Was?"

"Was." Meredith paused, briefly glancing down at her hands, where she'd splayed them against the top of her desk. She relaxed them before she continued. "Amelia was a kind, gentle soul who was as terrified as she was unprepared for such a burden."

Terrified. Unprepared. Líadan could identify with each of those, both in her own experience and with Ava's discovery of magic. Yet, Ava's situation was different. Normal magic, while it frightened Líadan because of how most of Thedas viewed magic as a danger to be stopped, it didn't frighten her because it was magic alone. What truly scared Líadan was Ava's growing ability as a Dreamer. The many, different, and often frightful fates that awaited her daughter in the Beyond left her fearing for her daughter's life. And Líadan and Malcolm had very little in ways to protect her, aside from finding the right instructor—one who lived outside the human Circles. Ava would never find the right guide inside one. Since she was now imprisoned in one, and Líadan had yet to find a good way out, that terrified her most of all.

She looked directly at Meredith. "I don't think anyone is prepared to find they have magic. Yet there are things to be done when it's discovered. Establishing over it, for one. The more control a mage has over their mind and abilities means the less terrifying magic becomes."

"Control, yes. The teachers of such control live in Circles, yet my family knew that Amelia could never last in one, or pass their rigorous tests. So we hid her."

Líadan barely kept herself from gaping at Meredith. "You hid her. You hid—did you just expect her magic to go away?" It never went away, not on its own. While Líadan vehemently disagreed with the Circle's method of delivery, she couldn't deny the necessity of the instruction provided.

"We thought we were doing the right thing." The note of regret in Meredith's voice rang clear and true, and Líadan felt more than a twinge of sympathy. Anyone who knew magic knew the dreadful end Meredith's story was sure to reach. "But we had not done the right thing, not for any of us. She was possessed by a demon. My sister killed our family and I only barely escaped. Seventeen innocents were slain before templars brought her down."

"It wasn't your sister," Líadan said before she realized she'd thought it.

"What?" The question was a dare for Líadan to directly accuse Meredith of lying.

She had no intention of doing anything of the sort. Meredith had never been able to separate mage from abomination, and so every mage under her so-called protection suffered because of it. "The thing that killed your family wasn't your sister. Some part of its twisted, grotesque, murderous form might've looked like her, but it wasn't her. By the time the abomination attacked your family, your sister was dead. A demon killed your sister, and then that demon killed your family."

"Her inability to win the struggle against the will of a demon is what killed my family. If she had won, she and my family would be alive to this day. We had the best of intentions, yet they led to death and destruction. It is a reminder for why the laws my order upholds are so vital. Do not mistake my stance for hatred. I have sympathy for mages. You suffer a terrible curse, but it is one that you must not deny."

Líadan forced her muscles to relax as her temper strained to be loosed. "It's only a curse because your people make it one. Mages need training, but you humans are so afraid of magic that you lock up your mages and squander their gift for what it is. You instill the fear of mages, and you instill fear between mages and their families when they are forced to choose between loving them or sending them to a prison. Magic is a gift, and your kind wastes it."

"Is that what you believe, or what the Dalish believe?"

"Among the Dalish, magic is a gift. Among humans, even if one is Dalish, magic is a curse."

"And is that why you hate templars?"

Each clarification chipped away at the walls Líadan had built around the memory of her parents and their deaths, and the resulting cracks weakened her ability to remain clear-headed. "I hate templars because templars killed my parents."

Meredith lifted her brows in surprise. "Templars generally do not seek out the Dalish, as I told you. What reason would they have to attack your parents?"

"Four of them were tracking an apostate and lost the trail. But they felt me using magic and started to hunt for my clan. To keep me from being taken and imprisoned by the Chantry, my parents went after them before they found us. My parents killed those templars, but not before those templars inflicted mortal wounds on them in return." Líadan was almost rigid with anger, at realizing exactly how much of a waste the deaths of her parents had been, and how she hadn't been able to do anything to protect her own children. "And yet, here I am. So it seems your sister died in vain, and so did my parents. Maybe that makes us even."

Meredith glared at her, nostrils flaring, and Líadan glared right back at her. Neither reached for a weapon, yet both scrabbled for control to keep from doing so. Punches had been thrown at deep-seated, dark, and vulnerable emotions, and the blows had struck hard and true. Meredith straightened slightly in her chair, and wound her fingers around her cup.

Then she cleared her throat. "You have lessons, do you not?"

"So Orsino tells me."

"You should get to them."

Líadan left without a parting shot. There was no winning their argument today, not for either of them.

Today, it was Ser Keran who waited outside Meredith's office with Orsino, but they'd been joined by another templar whom Líadan didn't recognize. He was older than Keran by a good margin, and even older than herself. The older templar and Orsino immediately broke off their little conference as soon as they'd noticed she'd stepped out the door. Unfortunately, she hadn't heard what they were discussing, but she figured she could get it out of Ser Keran later, through intimidation. After giving Orsino an unsure look, followed by a nod from Orsino, the older templar strode off.

"Who was that?" asked Líadan. She did feel some apprehension, for any new templars might not have been assigned by Cullen, and they might not have the same sympathetic views towards mages as he did. Thus far while she'd been kept prisoner in the Gallows, she had surprisingly not been mistreated. She wasn't unaware that her status could change for the worse at any time.

"A templar," said Orsino. "I thought you'd be familiar with them by now."

So it was that kind of morning.

She didn't bother answering.

Halfway to the floor used for the older apprentices, Orsino asked, "Did you agree to a Harrowing?"

"Did you take a blow to the head?" Líadan would happily volunteer her services if he hadn't.

There was a quiet, half-choked laugh from Ser Keran behind them.

The astonished look on Orsino's face almost made up for Líadan's awful morning. "No, I—what? Why would you ask such a thing?"

"Because you seem to have lost your ability to remember. I said I wouldn't agree, and I won't. No amount of browbeating from you or Meredith is going to make me change my mind."

Orsino halted suddenly at the bottom of the stairwell. "It will be a waste when she makes you Tranquil."

Not that Líadan hadn't told him several times already that she would find a way to force them to kill her if they decided to make her Tranquil, because she had, it seemed to bear repeating. "Either I'll kill her first or I'll get her to kill me first." Or, Líadan would escape, having thought of a few possibilities based on some gossip she'd picked up from the apprentices when they thought no one could hear them. "Besides," she said as Orsino continued to look at her in askance, "I'm not even a good mage, so I don't see how you'd find it a waste."

"There is more to people than magic."

"Awkward," said Keran, "this is awkward. This is more awkward than when she's threatening to kill the Knight-Commander."

Orsino shot him a dark look. "That isn't what I meant." Then he turned toward Líadan. "Unless—"

"No. Even if I didn't have a bondmate, it would still be no." She'd rather have Fen'Harel over Orsino, but reserved that comment in case Orsino escalated.

To his credit, Orsino didn't appear hurt or angry at the quick rejection. "It rarely hurts to ask. But it truly isn't what I was speaking of. I meant the waste of a person who could do a lot of things. You may not have the strongest magic, yet you have one of the strongest wills I've ever encountered. It's why I'm left so confused at your continued refusal to undergo the Harrowing. You'll pass. If what Knight-Captain Cullen has told me is true, you've passed a version of it already." He held up a hand to forestall her protests. "I know, as you've told me, it's because you won't submit."

"If you know, then why are we even having this conversation?"

"Because I know where this will end. I've seen it before, and I will see it again, and I'd rather it not be you. I'd rather it not be any of my mages, but something has always felt tragically even more wrong when a Dalish mage is made Tranquil. Not only is someone wild and free caged, but then they are shackled. And—"

"Whatever your views of the Dalish are, we aren't wild."

Ser Keran cleared his throat. "Well, you did try to—"

She pointed at him without looking. "Shut it."

Orsino sighed. "So your views have not changed, as I suspected." He glanced up the empty stairs, and then looked at Líadan again. "The templar you saw earlier was Ser Thrask. He's one of the older ones, and I fear he's only a few more years left before the lyrium weakens his mind. He'd been sent out from here with other templars on some useless excuse of a mission, but was recalled due to illness."

"No, actually," said Keran.

"What do you mean?" asked Orsino.

Keran shrugged in the face of Orsino's misplaced ire. "All he'll say about it is that his daughter died, and that's why he's back. If you ask him for more information, he gets snappy. And since he isn't usually the snappy sort, it's intimidating. So I didn't ask. You can, though, if you want."

"Given that report, I believe I will leave it alone." Orsino looked at Líadan again. "Regardless, he is one of the reasonable templars, much in the same vein as Knight-Captain Cullen. He… may have a way of getting you out. It's just a possibility so far, but it's a better chance than anything else I'm sure you've heard from the apprentices and other mages. He's going to investigate the lead further, and then we'll figure out what to do with the information."

"I'm standing right here," said Keran.

Both mages ignored him.

"How do I know this isn't a trap?" Líadan asked Orsino.

"Because it isn't."

"And what about my children? I can't just leave them here. If I do, Meredith will use them against me, or punish them because she won't be able to punish me."

Orsino folded his arms across his chest, and then scratched at his chin as he fell into thought. "I had assumed you would be able to get word out to the Wardens and Ferelden as soon as you were free."

"Yes, but in the meantime, Meredith will have time to fortify, and she will have unrestricted access to my children and all the temper to hurt them with. Cullen's convinced she won't harm them, but I'm not."

"Would you have another opportunity? Are they better off staying here for a few extra days or weeks while you gather the troops necessary to free them? Or are they better off with their lives being risked in a clandestine escape?"

She frowned at him. Safer was more the first and less the second. There was no telling what templar could lose what temper in what horrific way. Left here while she got Wardens and whoever else she could find, Cáel and Ava would supposedly be safe. Cullen and his like-minded templars already watched over them, and Meredith had given her word that the children would not be harmed. But templars—people—broke their word all the time. The danger here was predictable; an escape going possibly wrong was not. "The latter would carry the greater risk."

Orsino nodded. "I thought the same. But we will have to see what Ser Thrask comes up with. It may turn out to be nothing more than an errant wisp leading unwitting adventurers to their dooms."

They parted ways shortly after, and though Líadan assumed she should've been in a better mood at the news of Orsino's lead, she was not. Betrys tested her patience enough that Líadan did upend a basket of elfroot over her head, leaving the older mage sputtering and her hair full of leaves. Ser Keran did an admirable job keeping a straight face as he followed Líadan toward the commons.

"Tell me the truth about this Ser Thrask," she said.

His light mood departed. "He's a templar who's older than me."

"Because I would never have figured that one out on my own."

"Look, I'm not sure how much—" Keran stopped and glanced around them, where the halls had begun to crowd with mages and apprentices freed from classes and teaching. "Not here."

"Ser Keran!" Ser Ruvena shouted to them just as they finished navigating through the commons. "We need to swap out duty for tomorrow, I think. The schedule's wrong. I can't do the night shift and the morning shift, and you've got the night off. Come see."

Keran gave Líadan a wary look.

"Oh, no," she said. "I'm not going with you."

His wary looked turned to their surroundings. "But you'll not go anywhere else, either?"

"Because I have so many options? Off with you. I'll wait here."

His hesitation ended when Ruvena shouted at him again, and he sighed and made his way over.

What Líadan hadn't told him was that she needed him as a guard, either him or his fellow templars. Apprentices and mages both had warned her of other templars who weren't fair-minded and possessed of scarcely any common decency. All that kept them from getting to her were Cullen's hand-picked guards, along with Meredith's threats to the templars, should she or her children come to any harm. But there were always those who would throw caution to the wayside and do what they wanted, including those rumored to want revenge for the templars she'd killed, and so Líadan remained grudgingly grateful, yet frustrated.

There was a small commotion in the corridor behind her, sounds of someone getting pushed, someone else complaining, and another complaining right back. It was the second voice that caused Líadan to turn around. She hadn't heard it for a while, but she knew that voice as well as her own.

Cáel, dressed in an apprentice's robe, shoved his way through the glut of older apprentices in the hallway. Where he couldn't physically move someone, he dodged or ducked, but his momentum alone helped with the pushing to clear the way. His face lit up when he caught sight of her and his wide grin was so much like Malcolm's that the twinge of missing her bondmate twisted and turned sharp.

"Mamae!" Cáel tripped in his excitement and barely kept himself from falling. "Sodding robe," he muttered. Then he shouldered past the last apprentice between them and launched himself toward her.

Having already knelt to his level, she caught him easily. She wrapped her arms around his solid little body—he'd always be little to her, even once he became a grown man as tall as his father—right as he'd slung his own arms around her neck. "Da'len," she said into his tousled hair.

He didn't let go instantly, like he would have at home in Ferelden. "I thought you were dead for sure," he said.

"I'm very much alive." Líadan kept her hands on his shoulders, but put space enough between them so she could see for herself that he was unharmed.

"You're wearing a robe," Cáel said once he took in her appearance.

"So are you."

"I don't know why mages wear them. They're stupid."

Líadan couldn't help the smile at his words and not finding any injury on him. "They are." She gave his upper arms a fond squeeze. "How's your sister?"

"She's okay. She… she likes her lessons, but she wouldn't want me to tell you. She'd probably think you'd be mad at her for it."

"Never. Give her my love, and tell her to learn all she can until we can leave." Líadan saw another commotion start at the end of the hall, apprentices quickly getting out of the way of a pair of grumbling templars. She pulled her son close again. "Ma'arlath. I love you. We'll get out," she whispered to him.

Then the templars reached them, but one was Knight-Captain Cullen, and she felt somewhat less threatened even though she didn't recognize the second templar.

"Boy," said the other templar, "you know you aren't supposed to be on this floor. It's time to get you back."

Cáel's eyes flicked between the templars and Líadan. "I don't—Mamae, I don't want to go."

"You have to, for now." She hated saying it, the words dragged hot and painful out of her throat, but Cullen could only afford to overlook so much and his aid still remain unnoticed by Meredith. "If anyone tries to hurt you or Ava," she said, pitched quietly enough where no one else could hear, "tell Knight-Captain Cullen. He's a fair man. He'll protect you from the people who aren't."

He sniffled, and Líadan felt his tears where he'd pressed his face into the crook of her neck. Tears, from a boy who rarely cried in front of anyone. It took everything she had to hold onto her own.

"All right," said Cáel.

She kissed the top of his head, and then Cáel let go and stepped back. Cullen's assistant immediately put a restraining hand on Cáel's shoulder so he couldn't escape again.

Líadan stood, fighting every instinct she had to take her son and run, to keep him literally out of the templar's hands. But she didn't, because it wouldn't end in their freedom, and they wouldn't have Ava with them, even if it did.

"He'll be kept safe," Cullen said to her. "You have my word." He held her gaze until she nodded, and then he put his hand on Cáel's other shoulder. "Come on, lad. I believe your little foray is over for today."

As they escorted him away, Cáel shot looks over his shoulder, reassuring himself that she was still there. Líadan didn't move from her place until they'd gone through the door to the stairwell. The apprentices and mages around her said nothing, keeping their heads down and conversations to a minimum. Ser Keran's heavy footsteps behind her were loud in comparison.

"So that was your boy?" he asked, his voice quiet compared to his usual.

"Yes." He was alive and well, and Líadan had to take happiness in that, or she would try to go tearing through the door to the stairs that led down into the younger apprentices' floors in order to save him. Yet her hands clenched at her sides, and she stood stock-still in an effort to not run.

"Must be clever, to get away from his dormitory like that."

"Yes."

"He look like his father? Because he doesn't—"

"Please don't talk to me right now." Her throat strained to not yell at Keran, because Keran didn't deserve it. But talking about her children or her bondmate right then would send her into a kind of rage that would leave her vulnerable in its aftermath. "Please."

"I…" He glanced at the closed door to the stairs, and then in the direction they needed to go to reach the older apprentice quarters. "All right."

Keran remained silent as they finished their trip. Líadan caught occasional curious looks from him, but didn't fault him for it. Were she him, she'd be curious, too. But she wasn't ready to talk about her family, not to a templar. Not yet, and probably not ever, no matter how personable he was. Cullen seemed to be the only exception, and Líadan realized with a start that Cullen had arranged for her to see Cáel. In her view, there was no other way Cáel could have slipped the guard of every templar between the younger apprentice floors and the upper floors, but that was because she knew him. She knew that he wasn't that sneaky, but the people here did not. Given Cáel's known penchant for disobedience, to the others, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility for him to get away long enough to run up to see his mother. Cullen could have arranged that and have it look perfectly normal. He couldn't have done the same thing with Ava, not with how she'd behaved in her time here. Líadan knew that Ava was the sneakier of the two when she chose to be, but no one else here knew the same except Cáel. And so a rather observant, perhaps trustworthy Knight-Captain had allowed her to see her son, if ever briefly.

It went a long way to give more credence to his promise of aid.

When they reached the door, Keran stayed on the outside and Líadan passed through without acknowledging him. What she needed was quiet and time to herself to settle and sort out her thoughts, and she was afforded neither in the raucous apprentice dormitory. The closest she got was the relief of Sylvie being out somewhere, so questions wouldn't come from above. She wasn't granted the semi-quiet for long.

"I heard you saw your son," Sylvie said as she dropped onto Líadan's bunk.

Had Líadan not been a hunter, she would have jumped at the sudden intrusion. "I did."

"I didn't know you had any kids."

"You didn't ask. You ask so much, I assumed that if you wanted to know, you would have."

"I suppose." Sylvie idly scratched her arm, where the sleeve from her robe ended. More often than not, she had notes jotted on her skin there because she'd remember her quill, but forget the paper. Ink pots were supplied in the classrooms. The repeated writing with ink and the resulting necessary scrubbing afterward left Sylvie with a red patch of angry, perpetually itchy skin. "Is he your only one?"

"No."

She rolled her eyes. "You can see where I'm going with this. One or more extra ones? Where are they? Are they mages, too?"

"One. Here. Yes, sort of." Sylvie's exasperated look reminded Líadan of Alistair, and she relented. "My son isn't a mage. Meredith is keeping him here because she thinks he'll be a mage, since I am, and his sister is."

"You're lucky they haven't been transferred. That's what's happened with other apostate families brought here. They're broken up, fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers all sent to different Circles."

Líadan felt her fingers beginning to grasp the blanket under her, and she forced them flat against it. "That's nearly as bad as the Harrowing." But she wasn't sure if it was better or worse that her children were here. Maybe in another Circle, they could escape easier. But then they wouldn't be watched over by Cullen.

"Is your daughter a mage like you are?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?" Líadan had meant the question to be more light-hearted than it came out, but didn't bother with taking it back. She needed to not let herself become comfortable here, and some people, such as the apprentice sitting next to her and the templar standing outside the room, could allow her to feel just that. Both were kind and well-meaning, and had Líadan not been an unwilling resident of this place, she would have been perfectly nice to them without a thought to otherwise.

Sylvie blushed. "I just meant that…" She motioned with her hands as she struggled for a better way to clarify without seeming like an insult. "You know, how your magic can't do much." Then she winced. "I don't mean to be rude, and you've said enough times that—"

All right, maybe she'd been too mean. "I'm sorry. After what happened, I'm not in the best of moods." She sighed. "The answer is no, she isn't. She's a very strong mage, unlike me."

"Were you going to try to teach her yourself?"

"Creators, no! That would do her a disservice. I was bringing her to the Dalish to be taught by a Keeper. Mages do need to be taught, but not in a place like this."

Sylvie's cheerful countenance darkened as her eyes swept around the large, cavernous room that was no less a prison than a small jail cell. "It would be better, I think, if this were a real school, maybe like the university in Val Royeaux. We're still taught about magic and how to use our own, but we're free to go home, to see our families, to be normal at the same time. That's all any of us wants, really. To be like anyone else, and treated the same."

"Short of a revolution, I don't think you'll be seeing that sort of change here or any place where the Chantry is in control."

"No, probably not." Shoulders slumped, Sylvie got up and walked away, ending the conversation in far different mood from before.

Líadan believed she could place trust in Cullen and his promise to do everything he could to get her out, but she couldn't believe that his slow methods would work soon enough. However, it would be stupid and short-sighted not to take advantage of every option available. So she continued to be civil to Orsino, and extended him just enough trust to agree to a meeting with Ser Thrask.

Thrask was taller than Líadan had first thought, and his voice gentler than she could have imagined from a templar. Cullen spoke with clipped tones, and the younger templars all tried to emulate his cadence, with varying degrees of success. Orsino had arranged for the meeting to take place straight after Líadan's daily conference with Meredith. It seemed a curious and risky choice, which Líadan mentioned out loud to Orsino.

"She would never suspect a talk such as this starting from outside her very office," he replied as they walked.

"Probably because it's not the brightest idea. I don't know if you realize it, but my chats with her don't leave her in the best of moods."

"Nor you," said Orsino.

"That's a given." But now they were far enough away from the Knight-Commander's office and the main corridors that speaking honestly would be safe, which meant Orsino did have a point about not getting caught. "I do wonder if this is more to do with you showing Meredith up than it does safety."

"One is incidental to the other."

He did not clarify which, and Líadan took that as answer enough. "Where are we going?"

"The dungeons," said Orsino.

Líadan turned on her heel and started back. Before she'd finished taking one step, Orsino had grabbed her by the arm. She took hold of the offending arm near the elbow. Then she spun her body around to build momentum before she pivoted, ducked, and pulled. Orsino went over her shoulder and landed hard on the ground in front of her.

"Do not touch me," she said. "Especially if it's to restrain, and especially if it's uninvited. In case you were confused, that was uninvited."

He scowled at her as he regained the breath she'd knocked out of him. "We aren't bringing you there to lock you in a dingy cell. The exit is there, the one the Mage Underground wants to use."

"It took me some time to find the new one," said Thrask. "It exits below the Gallows and into the sewers that connect to Darktown."

"New one?" Líadan asked Thrask, ignoring Orsino as he slowly got to his feet and dusted himself off.

Thrask nodded. "After Alrik discovered the first, it took a lot of searching to find the second. Though the Underground had trusted me before with Feynriel's escape, after Alrik's deeds it took great deal of time for them to rebuild trust with any templar. Understandably, of course."

"Feynriel?" asked Líadan.

"An elf-blooded lad who had no business being here. He had some sort of strange ability that's rarely seen and very powerful, from what the mages told me. It was either get him out or let the Knight-Commander make him Tranquil. We got him out. Marian Hawke saw him apprenticed to the Grey Warden mage who runs the Darktown clinic, but some months after that, the boy left for the Dalish. Haven't heard anything since. I suppose that's a good thing, in the long run."

She knew the entire story already, aside from Thrask's involvement, but Thrask and Orsino didn't know, and she didn't want them to. "And Alrik?"

"May he spend eternity in the Void," said Orsino.

"I doubt you'd find many inclined to disagree, First Enchanter," said Thrask. Then he looked at Líadan again. "Worst kind of templar. I can't even begin to tell you the things he'd done to the mages. Then he found the Underground's escape route and used it as a trap. I'm sure he would've kept up with it, but he was found floating dead in the harbor a few days later."

"Who killed him?"

Orsino let out a short, derisive laugh. "Someone doing the Maker's work, surely."

"No one knows for certain." Thrask shrugged. "But the Underground had the exit blocked off afterwards, in case word got out. Then they went quiet for a while, up until a few days ago. The new exit hasn't been tested yet, but they're certain it follows the same sort of path as the other. Nasty bit of crawling in some sewage, but there's freedom waiting at the other end. Freedom I'm sure you're still partial to, given the stories I've heard from the templars assigned to you. Come on, we'll show you the first bit."

They descended into the dungeons, and then went three levels more, to where offending mages were thrown, Líadan assumed, to die. The damp air held the kind of death that waited near still creek beds, and Líadan wanted to look and get back up the stairs as quickly as possible. To her surprise, they passed all the dank cells and went down another set of stairs, where the Veil was so thin that she could feel the Beyond prickling at the back of her neck.

"No one should be down here," she said. "Ever."

"That is why it took so long to find this." Thrask pointed at a round opening in middle of the floor of the small, empty room. The stone underfoot, lit by Orsino's stave, was stained and worn smooth. It didn't take a wild guess to know what had stained the floor, not with the Gallows' history. "Only the truly desperate would attempt to escape using such means, but it's all we have found."

She stared at it. "That's an exit? I meant escape, not getting myself killed by wandering into the Beyond."

"It's where they used to throw the dead bodies of slaves," said Orsino.

She gave him a flat look. "That much is obvious. I'm surprised there aren't enraged spirits running around everywhere down here. Even if someone managed to get through it without accidentally strolling into the Beyond, they'd still end up dead. The tunnel probably leads to the harbor, which would mean drowning."

Thrask shook his head. "No, we believe it leads to the sewers. Once it would have led to the harbor, but the sewers replaced the system that dropped everything into the harbor. Drop down there and crawl through and the other side should have freedom, provided you can get out of Kirkwall."

"Seems too easy."

"The hard part will be who you'll have to cooperate with to get out," said Orsino. "Comparatively, this is easier."

Líadan felt no small amount of dread. "It isn't Betrys, is it? I dumped elfroot on her head today. I doubt she's up for helping me escape."

Orsino laughed.

"Oh, Elgar'nan curse and Mythal protect! You have to be kidding. Maybe you meant Pauline, or even Gratian. Possibly Sylvie? Not Betrys."

He didn't stop laughing.

She turned to Thrask for help. "Really?"

The templar gave her a sad nod. "Really. She'll find you when everything's set up. Then you'll be leaving with her and a few of the other mages from Starkhaven. They've had enough of this place and would rather rebuild the Circle in Starkhaven than stay here."

While she could blame them for wanting to build any sort of Circle, she couldn't blame them for at least wanting to get out of the Gallows. And it did explain why Betrys had replaced Pauline. She sighed. "I'll be waiting, then." She still wasn't convinced, not with the thin Veil. Possession in that tunnel was a serious risk.

Once Orsino stopped laughing, they headed up out of the dungeons and toward the several flights of stairs to the main levels of the Gallows.

At the top of the steps, the heavy door to the main area of the Gallows had remained closed. Yet, standing in front of them was Knight-Captain Cullen. He glared at both Thrask and Orsino. "Whatever you're up to," he said to both of them, "it won't work, and I'd advise you to abandon it. The Knight-Commander is convinced that blood mages are rife within this Circle, and attempting to do whatever it is you're planning will serve to prove her point, even if it isn't true."

Orsino raised a hand in protest. "I had not—"

Cullen waved him off. "Don't insult me or yourself by making something up. I don't care either way, except that the mages remaining here are safe and not put to death or made Tranquil without actual just cause."

"There is no just cause for Tranquility," said Líadan.

He shot her an exasperated look, but didn't engage in the argument she presented. Instead, he turned to Thrask. "What were you doing down there? You know the Veil's too thin in those dungeons for it to be safe."

"New exit route the Underground wants to use. Needs to be tested. I think we can send her through it. Maybe the children too, depending."

"No." Cullen pointed a finger at each of them in turn. "Don't. It hasn't been used before. You don't know if it loops back or if anyone will be waiting on the other side, if that side even exists, or if won't just lead straight into the harbor, where you'd drown."

Even trapped as she was, there were some things Líadan could decide for herself. This was one of them. "I can't just stand around and wait to be rescued like some mythical maiden in a tower you humans seem so fond of writing about."

He drew a hand over his face. "There may be a way. I—" Then he stopped and looked between Orsino and Thrask. "Go, both of you. And heed my words. Should you give credence of any kind to her suspicions, I can't promise I can stop the Knight-Commander from doing something rash."

Without additional protest, Ser Thrask and the First Enchanter left the dungeon entrance. Cullen waited until the door had clanked shut before he turned to Líadan again. "Like I was saying, there may be a way. I found out earlier today that there's a Seeker around, sent to speak with the Grand Cleric. I managed to talk to her yesterday after she left the Knight-Commander's office. She told me she knows where Malcolm is and she promised she can get a message to him."

The story Alistair had told her, of Leliana appearing alive in Denerim and not dead because it was all a trick, came to mind. He'd told her Leliana was a Seeker. Perhaps this one was Leliana, or would know her. Alistair had said that Leliana claimed to still be their friend, but he hadn't believed a word of it. Yet, imprisoned as Líadan was, she hadn't much room to be picky about who would help. If this Seeker offered a chance, even if this Seeker turned out to be Leliana, she had to make the most of it. "Do whatever it takes," she told Cullen.

He nodded. "I'll see what I can do and let you know." But he didn't sound like he felt compelled to move fast enough. He didn't understand the urgency because she hadn't told him, and he never would unless she did.

Líadan realized that she would have to trust him, and if her trust was in any way misplaced, it wasn't her life that would pay for it. Yet, this was the templar who hadn't killed her at the first hint of her fight with the demon. This was the templar who'd witnessed the child in question being born. If any templar could be trusted, he was it.

She stopped him. "There's something else you need to know."

When he turned toward her, there was trepidation in his eyes that she did not like. "What is it?"

"Do you…" She started again. "Do you recall how my grandfather got into the Beyond?"

He blinked. "I do. It's hard to forget something that remarkable, the power he and Feynriel both hold. Why? Is—" He fell silent and stared at her, having caught on. "She has the same ability?"

"Yes."

"Is she hunted by demons?"

"She is. For now, Emrys and Feynriel are protecting her in the Beyond. I just don't know how long they'll be able to from such a distance. Without there being Dreamers here to train her, I don't know what—"

He looked directly at her, his eyes earnest with honesty. "I'll find a way to get a message out. Meredith cannot know about your child's talent, and your child cannot be put into danger from demons because she isn't allowed a proper teacher."

She studied him for a moment. "Why are you still a templar?"

His laugh was short and bitter. "A lot of reasons. My immediate reason is to keep Meredith following the letter and spirit of Chantry law. I'm one of very few who hold the line between her zealotry and the well-being of the mages of the Gallows. She's sent away most of us on ridiculous missions or to deliver meaningless messages. Those she couldn't send away, she keeps as chained as she does the mages. No one told you?"

"Not so clearly. Ser Keran tried, but I had little pity for him at the time."

Despite the way his face had paled with the news regarding Ava, Cullen managed a light chuckle. "I think I understand why you wouldn't."

"Do you really believe this Seeker's word?"

"I have to, don't I? Otherwise, you'll lose to Meredith, and that would devastate more than just you."

It would, and she knew it, and he knew it, and her children feared it. She couldn't afford this gambit to fail, yet neither could she give up on her other avenue of escape. After meeting his gaze one more time, she nodded, and then reached up and unhooked the clasp to her silver thread necklace. As he curiously looked on, she coiled it in the palm of her hand. Then she closed her fingers, clinging tightly to it, unwilling to let go of one of the few things she had of Malcolm left to her. It carried memories with it that she didn't want to lose in any form, yet that exact property made it valuable for other uses. She steeled herself, and then handed it to Cullen.

His brow furrowed further. "Why?"

"If your Seeker messenger gives this to Malcolm, he'll believe her. He'll have to."

"But—"

"It was a betrothal gift." The only one she had left, her bow having gone missing in the Lowtown fight with the templars.

"I can't—"

If Cullen kept arguing with her, she wouldn't be able to let him leave with it. "Take it. Otherwise, he'll think the message a trick and won't do anything." And she and the children would be left here, unless the other plan worked. But she knew better than to hope.

He nodded, if rather slowly. "All right."

They left the dungeon together. As she walked away, flanked by Orsino and Thrask, Cullen told her, "Patience."

She nodded, but she did not meet his eyes.

Patience would be the hardest thing of all.