disclaimer type=standard

Anything you recognise is Bioware's. I daresay anything else belongs to them too.

/disclaimer

o_ooo000ooo_o

"You did not mention to what use you put the Antivan Crows you hired," Cassandra pointed out.

"True," the Warden answered. "I just thought it was a bit boring, that's all."

Cassandra stared at her. "Boring? Three professional assassins brought to your arling where a large number of nobles recently took part in an ill-fated conspiracy to murder you, and you take care not to mention them?"

Kathryn shrugged. "Well," she drawled, "I figured you'd just assume they were there to train my Wardens."

The Seeker narrowed her eyes. "Were they?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe you," Cassandra stated flatly.

"Fair enough. I wouldn't believe me either."

The Seeker crossed her arms. "Do you intend to keep their purpose a secret?"

The elf grinned at her. "Only if it really bugs you."

"Warden," Cassandra half-growled, half-sighed.

Kathryn snickered. "Fine. I wasn't lying, you know. They were there to train my Wardens. Not just in fast, silent killing, but also in infiltration, finding points of entry into buildings, identifying weaknesses in guard routines, that sort of thing."

The Seeker nodded slowly. She had no doubt that the assassins were put to far more uses than had been admitted, but it was plausible. Half the trouble the Chevaliers and Orlesian templars had during the recent Exalted March on Ferelden was the shockingly brief life expectancy of the field officers.

Antiva, despite the poor quality and size of her standing army, would never be invaded while the Antivan Crows were a power. It did not surprise her that the Fereldans had learned that lesson too. Weak nations often resorted to less than honourable methods of defense.

Kathryn ignored her musing, and continued her tale.

o_ooo000ooo_o

We left Hape, Ben, Seranni and Falon'fen the next morning, trundling away under grey, light-less clouds. Pickering sat next to me, reins in hand while I read a book. Fiona sat in the back of the wagon, quill in hand, writing notes about her discussion with Seranni.

Thunder of course, ranged far and wide searching for entertainment. He brought back the odd crushed bunny, so he probably found it.

The journey between Drake's Rest and Soldier's Peak passed quickly. The weather was practically balmy for Ferelden at this time of year, allowing us to travel for long periods unimpeded by muddy roads.

Pickering was stoic in the face of long discussions on magical theory between his travelling companions. He was learning the art of camp site management well; for a city boy, that is. He learned how to select an optimal location to pitch a tent, how to cook a brace of hares evenly, and how to set snares as defences. Of course, he was picking up some bad habits. Travelling with an elementalist meant that you never had to struggle with your tools to get a fire started.

It only took a couple of days to get to the tunnels that led to the Wardens' fortress. The most difficult part of the journey was getting the wagons through.

Fiona gasped at her first glimpse of Soldier's Peak. The towering fortress made everyone feel very small from that first vantage point. I suppose that was the idea.

"This is your fortress?" she exclaimed. "I had no idea it was so…"

"Big?" I offered.

"Big," she confirmed with wide eyes. "It is enormous."

I smiled serenely, feeling a sense of pride. This place would be incredible when I'd finished with it. "What first?"

She shook her head to regain her focus and looked over at me. "I would like to speak with Warden Avernus."

"Are you sure? You don't want to go around the back and have a look at the old griffon stables, for instance?" I asked innocently.

She gave a sharp sigh. "Why? Why would I wish to do that?"

I shrugged. "It might be enlightening," I responded. "Pick, would you mind unloading the wagons? Levi or Mikhael will be over there in that outbuilding. They'll probably be able to help."

He nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you. Well? Come on, it's just over here," I said to Fiona, heading off towards the cliff behind the fortress.

She groaned. "Very well. I can see that you are just dying to take me there. I trust whatever juvenile prank you wish to pull on me will not take too much time?"

I gave her a scowl, though I was secretly delighted at her sarcasm. "You're no fun at all, you know that?"

She rolled her eyes. "It has been remarked upon."

I grinned at her. She was actually starting to loosen up around me.

She trotted up and seemed to think she should clarify her statement. "Maric in particular took great delight in trying to… to…" she paused, her expression completely honest in its surprise. She snatched her staff from her shoulder and readied it. "Th-th-there's… they're dragons!" she screamed at me, pointing.

"Yup," I replied happily. The three we could see over the gentle crest of the land were joyously bounding after each other. They looked to have almost doubled in length in the months since we'd captured them. They cavorted and careered around, crashing into each other and attempting to bury one another under their bulk. "They're only babies," I pointed out despite their size. I reached over and pushed the point of her staff to the ground.

She stared at me. "If the dragonlings are here, then the mother will likely be nearby!" she shouted, quite unnecessarily loudly in my opinion.

I shook my head. "Doubt it. We killed the mother a while back."

"You k-," she started, before her mouth dropped open in realisation. "You're raising these?" she said with a sweep of her arm.

"Yup," I repeated just as happily.

"Why?" she demanded.

"Because griffins are extinct," I said in a reasonable tone of voice, repeating the justification I'd given Alistair months ago on the top of Fort Drakon.

She looked even more confused for a second before realising what I was implying. "Because… you want to ride them?"

I nodded. "Sure. Why not? Imagine how many darkspawn we could wipe out just by flying over their heads breathing fire."

She just stared at me for a long time. Over the gentle rise, the three dragonlings descended into a brawl full of mock snarls, snapping and little gouts of flame.

"Honestly, I'm not sure why I'm so surprised. The idea of willingly raising dragons to train and ride into battle is so insane that it makes complete sense that you would want to do it."

[br]

We continued on to the old griffin stables, where Jowan and Levi's nephew were at work, mucking out the dragon manure. Anders was right; dragons produced a prodigious amount of shit.

Fortunately (or perhaps consequently) the smelly stuff was fantastic fertilizer. The limited area set aside behind stone fences for farming looked stupendously productive.

Jowan was almost glowing. He proudly showed off his Warden pendant and told me the story of his Joining. Apparently, he and Avernus had slightly modified the recipe for the Joining potion; one that was customised to a single recruit. It involved adding a drop of the imbiber's blood to the concoction. While the sample size for the experiment was currently one, both felt that the new recipe had good prospects for further tests.

Only a pair of maleficars would come up with such a change. Fiona's expression revealed no disdain for Jowan's specialisation; rather, she looked intrigued at the refinement.

Jowan then showed us around the stables. One of the dragonlings had taken ill and was being kept quarantined from the others. The problem did not seem life-threatening, but caring for six vomiting dragons would probably be a bit beyond Jowan's skills.

Containing the horrific stench of the dragon dung was not a task for the faint hearted. But, by clever use of barrier spells, the nearby area was not uninhabitable. Jowan explained how he shovelled the raw shit into a short silo where it broke down into fertilizer quickly under entropic magic. A fascinating, and very practical, use for a branch of magic that had little in the way of positive uses.

Jowan called the dragons for their feeding, and we were almost bowled over in the ensuing rush. Fortunately, the dragonlings were playful rather than malicious, and didn't try to trample us underfoot.

As the young Dryden scion began placing various amounts of game carcasses, fish and grains into the six feeding rooms, Jowan explained their reasoning. Without a guide to raising dragons in the library, they really were making it up as they went along. Differences in feed proportions produced visible changes in the dragons' growth rates and strength. As a researcher at heart, Jowan was quite literally writing the book on raising dragons.

And he wasn't alone. He and Daylen had never gotten along in the Circle. The pair disagreed on just about everything, ranging from their preferred Fraternity to their taste in literature. There were never any overt hostilities between the two boys, but they couldn't speak civilly to each other either.

However, despite their almost diametrically opposing views on just about everything, they were both mad for dragons. That one shared love was enough to keep the arguments between them to a minimum.

Of course, the fact they barely saw each other was another reason. Daylen was doing 'nights' at present; meaning that he was responsible for the dragonling's night-time feedings and health checks this week. He would give Jowan a briefing in the morning before seeking his bed, and get one from Jowan this evening.

It really was a weight off my mind.

After about half an hour, during which Fiona even worked up the courage to pet the one with cute colouring on its snout, we bade the two 'dragon masters' farewell and headed back to the Peak.

Fiona mused that if the next Blight came to Ferelden, it might last even less time than the last one.

I think she was really starting to get me and my plans.

Dagna met us in the entrance hall, bounding down the stairs three at a time. "Commander!" she shouted in greeting.

I responded in kind and attempted to introduce her to Fiona and Pickering. Dagna barely glanced in their direction before she was off on one of her stream-of-conscious monologues where any minute magical titbit of knowledge became cause for celebration.

It sounded as though Avernus had been quite free with his research, though if I knew the old maleficar, he was probably doing his best to freak her out. But not even the sourness that comes from two centuries of pickling could dent Dagna's exuberance.

She burbled away happily as she led us up the stairs towards Sophia's office. Fiona's expression was one of mild disapproval. "Do you recruit sane people at all?" she hissed at me.

"Not if I can help it," I whispered back tartly, though I couldn't really see what bothered her so. She had met Nate and Ben, both of whom were studious and averse to taking undue risks. Seranni was still a bit troubled by her recent time with the Architect, so her peccadilloes were understandable. And Hape was enthusiastic but not… no, wait. She wanted a dragon-skull bed. That would definitely be a tick in the 'confine to a sanatorium' box.

Maybe it was just me. Perhaps my particular brand of insanity enhanced or highlighted the foibles in others.

Dagna continued to chirrup along about all the amazing things she had learned since arriving here, not noticing or caring that her audience had lost attention momentarily. I noted places of recent repair on our trip through the fortress. Raw lumber nailed into place next to ancient, varnished timber. Rough stones of different colour and composition were mortared next to stones worn smooth by centuries of wear.

Soldier's Peak was slowly, but surely, reviving.

Fiona approved of the lone walkway entrance to the Mage Tower of the Peak. It made keeping Warden secrets a lot easier. We entered Avernus' workshop. It was really much nicer than the first time I'd laid eyes on it.

"Avernus, this is Senior Warden Fiona of Weisshaupt."

The old mage looked Fiona up and down. "No, she is not," he declared flatly.

I blinked. "Sorry, what?"

He glanced at me for a moment before seeming to remember something. "Ah, I keep forgetting that you are so young to the Wardens. You probably cannot sense the taint in other Grey Wardens yet. This mage does not bear the taint. She is no Grey Warden."

I turned to face her, eyebrows raised. Given the secrets I'd been discussing with her over the past few weeks, I was going to have to execute her on the spot.

"That is technically correct," Fiona said carefully. "The taint was purged after my first meeting with the Architect twenty years ago." She opened a pouch at her side. "I have letters of introduction from the First Warden here."

Avernus held out a hand. "May I?"

He examined the documents carefully. I wondered why she never gave them to me. She probably showed them to Alistair. Avernus finished the top sheet and lifted it away, reading the second. "Hmm, I see. Have the Grey Wardens in Weisshaupt examined this phenomenon? Have they managed to duplicate the method to cleanse the taint?"

Fiona frowned. "Er, no. The method is known, if not understood. No further research to duplicate it has been conducted."

I gasped at that. Avernus sighed as he handed the documents back. "Typical short-sighted fools."

"Maker, yes!" I fervently agreed with him. I turned to Fiona. "Are you seriously telling us that the Grey Wardens know of a way the taint can be removed from a Warden, yet they haven't studied it?"

Fiona's jaw clenched. "The method has been studied. Unfortunately, the artefact in question was developed using the Architect's magic. It accelerates the taint while a Grey Warden bears it. As we have not been able to recreate the object or its effects, we did not continue that line of inquiry." She looked Avernus up and down. "The First Warden will have many questions for you, Warden Avernus," she responded in an aggressive tone.

But Avernus had faced the legions of the Black City for ten times my lifespan. He barely acknowledged the implied threat. "What naïve children the Grey Wardens have become," he said with his creepy smile. "Time was that they were prepared to do what was necessary. Threats were for those too weak to actually do."

She stiffened, and I intruded on the conversation. "Perhaps we can discuss your recent research? Jowan mentioned the new refinement to the Joining potion recipe. How have you gone with the flowers I sent?"

He gave Fiona a dismissive sniff, and turned back to me. "The specimens you sent have remarkable properties. We experimented with growing them in soil soaked in darkspawn blood. The flower leeches the taint from the loam."

I blinked. "Fantastic!"

He nodded with such vigour that I imagined his frail neck coming away from his body. "Indeed. Quite remarkable. It has the potential to be a non-magical method of cleansing the taint without resorting to fire. A boon for any land that has suffered a Blight." He held up a hand. "However, it does not appear to lend any particular resistance to the taint. My experiments with snared game show no inherent benefit in ingesting the flower or its compounds before exposure."

Fiona cleared her throat. "If I may, what flower?"

I explained about the flower that grew wild near Ostagar. How it could be made into a salve that cured Blight sickness – in mabari at least." I scratched Thunder's ears. "Both Thunder here and the mabari belonging to the Teyrn of Gwaren were infected by the taint. The flower could be made into a poultice that healed them."

"I see," she said. "It seems that I have a great deal to learn."

[br]

Learn she did. We spent almost two weeks at Soldier's Peak, sharing ideas and lore. Dagna was impressed with the collection of books that had been confiscated from the Blood Mages beneath Denerim. Daylen was more impressed by the fact that we'd essentially absconded with them from under the Chantry's collective nose.

Avernus however, after a constructive few days, announced that there was little of real worth among them. Most of it was knowledge and lore he was well acquainted with. There were some journals and other tomes that had interesting adaptations of existing techniques, but there was no revolutionary lore.

Still, it never hurt to have more books. Especially if Alistair followed my suggestion that his army apostates all take a few weeks at Soldier's Peak for some training. It would be nice for the hedge mages to get some formal education.

With four exceedingly competent researchers and scholars at my disposal, I set about documenting the spells and disciplines involved in the Arcane Warrior, Dalish Keeper and Shapeshifting arts. Daylen's eyes lit up at the thought of wearing armour. Jowan was keen to learn to change his shape to that of a dragon, to my amusement. And Avernus was intrigued at the Dalish magic, though he claimed to be familiar with some of it; a relic of his time with a Dalish acolyte.

Dagna, of course, threw herself into learning everything she could about all three.

Between us, we drafted some protocols around the split between Grey Warden lore and the magical knowledge that I intended be available to other mages who came to the Peak to study. Fortunately, the design of the fortress made the split trivial – Warden secrets and lore would be kept in Avernus' tower under lock, glyph, trap and barrier. Anything else would be kept in the slowly-developing library within the fortress proper.

Fiona's long years with the Weisshaupt Wardens proved to be a boon in some respects. She could identify things that the Wardens would likely prefer kept apart. I did not follow all her suggestions, but when I overruled her, I had an argument for the decision.

I didn't spend all my time in magical discussions. Mikhael accepted my commission to outfit the Wardens stationed at Soldier's Peak, and gruffly included Pickering in that number. My bodyguard's weapons were replaced with exquisitely balanced blades forged just for him.

Dagna had some trouble with weapons. Fergus' description of her prowess, or lack thereof, was quite apt. Even wooden practice swords ended up giving her bruises. We were both getting frustrated before Fiona suggested a distinctly Orlesian solution.

Courtiers in the Empress' court had recently adopted a fashion to carry long, narrow-bladed swords called rapiers. Though practically useless against anyone wearing solid armour plating, the flimsy weapons were the elegant weapon of choice for a gentleman or lady.

But, as with almost anything, they were dangerous in the hands of a master. A body of literature had grown around the weapon describing the strengths and weaknesses of various techniques. To become a master of such a weapon needed more study than practice. Where my style of melee combat relied on constant practice and training, wielding a rapier well required the wielder to read constantly.

Something Dagna could gleefully endorse.

Eventually, once I was satisfied with the way the Peak was evolving, Fiona, Pickering, Thunder and I packed our wagons and headed out. Fiona's last stop on her Ferelden odyssey was the Circle at Kinloch Hold. And while I had no real desire to ever set foot in the place again, I agreed to take her there. I wanted to look Bryant in the eye and tell him that I was sorry.

Hopefully, this time it would end with a little less work for the local undertakers.

I felt an odd sense of déjà vu as we walked down the pier. The templar on duty observed us as we approached, but suddenly stiffened and began backing away.

He'd recognised me then.

"Uh… C-commander K-kathryn," he stammered.

I smiled at him. Well, grinned really. "Ah, Aaron, isn't it? Nice to see you again."

"Ahhh," he prevaricated, glancing between Fiona, Thunder and I. My mabari just sat on his haunch and bestowed a self-satisfied, tongue-lolling, doggy smile on the initiate.

"I take it you know each other," Fiona said dryly.

I nodded. "Oh, we're old acquaintances. Aaron here once ferried me to and from the Tower."

Fiona raised an eyebrow at me. "That does not explain why he is clearly terrified of you."

I took off my helmet and scratched at my scalp, relieving some of the irritation. "Well, no. That's true. That would be what happened last time I was over there."

She sighed. "I shudder to think." She addressed the trembling templar. "You! Ser Aaron, was it? Please be so good as to transport us across to the Tower."

"B-b-but…" he started, staring at Thunder.

"He didn't eat you last time, and he's already had breakfast," I said as soothingly as I could; which wasn't very.

We strode forward and past the templar, clambering down into the boat. It rocked a bit, given the incaution I displayed by just jumping in, and it was a tight fit with Fiona, Pickering, Thunder and I crammed into an area meant for two at best. But eventually we were on our way and making good time. If I was any judge, we'd probably break the record set the last time we were in this boat.

There was no one waiting for us when we hit the pier. Aaron was up and out of the little boat before the waves from our wake reflected back onto us. He hastily tied off the mooring ropes and bolted towards the Tower without a word.

Fiona gripped the sides of the boat until it stopped swaying, watching him go with more than a little curiosity. "I must admit, I have never been met with courtesy at any of Thedas' Circles, but most times I at least receive respect. This greeting is abominable."

I stood with the exaggerated care of someone in heavy armour over deep water. "Oh, I don't know. Being abandoned has its charms. Last time I was here the Knight-Commander tried to arrest and imprison me."

She blinked owlishly at me. "On what charge?"

I deliberately blinked back at her. "What do you mean, on what charge?"

Pickering reached out and grabbed hold of the pier, steadying the boat for me. Fiona did not appear to notice. "I mean, on what grounds did he arrest you?" she pressed.

I managed to climb out without too much fuss, though crawling in armour did dent your dignity a bit. To my not-very-great surprise, I found that I was having fun stringing her along. "I'm a mage. Why does he need any other grounds?"

That appeared to stump her. "You are a Grey Warden! By Divine decree, he has no grounds to arrest you!"

I held up a hand in a lecturing pose. "Unless…"

"Unless what?" she demanded, easily climbing out of the boat. Robes were more convenient for some things, I have to admit.

"Unless there were no witnesses present," I finished.

To my disappointment, instead of spouting off denunciations, she simply sighed. "Ah. I had rather hoped that with a mage ending the Blight, that sort of thing would become rarer. It appears that such things are universal across Thedas."

That was a bit of a blow. Personally, I'd rather hoped that things were just this bad in Ferelden.

"What happened? When the Knight-Commander tried to arrest you, I mean," Pickering asked.

I shrugged, helping both him and Thunder out of the boat. "He ordered that I disarm myself, remove my armour and submit to him. I was disinclined to acquiesce to his request."

He grinned at me, while Fiona gave me a very wry smile. "Yes, I have known you long enough that I'm quite capable of drawing that conclusion. I take it there was some unpleasantness, and that is why our escort abandoned us?"

"You take correctly."

Fiona glared at me. "Details, please. If I'm going to walk into a Maker-cursed Circle, I want to know if I'm going to be attacked on the spot."

I shrugged again. "What's to tell? They wanted to arrest me. I said no; told them so sod off, in fact. One idiot decided that a mage disobeying an unlawful order from the Knight-Commander was a smiting offence. Thunder spotted it before I did and ripped said idiot's throat out. They drew weapons, I dropped a fireball. They charged; I stunned them. They tried hacking at me with axes; I started slicing them up into fish bait. At that point, things started getting nasty. Eight templars died before Greagoir grudgingly offered me a temporary cessation of hostilities until sunrise the next day. And then, at sunrise, another six died when they tried to stop me leaving."

She looked at me in horror. "You brought me here after killing fourteen templars?"

"Thunder helped!" I pointed out. "He got at least two of them. And as I recall, I didn't want to come at all. You insisted."

"I had no idea that you were a wanted fugitive!"

I raised my eyebrows questioningly. "I'm not a fugitive. I was on a royal mission, with all the relevant legal rights to protect my person. Even the Grand Bitch of Denerim herself admitted as such."

Pickering fingered his sword. "What sort of welcome do you expect?"

"Cool, but not hostile," I told him.

He looked doubtful. "Are you sure?"

Fiona rounded on him. "Of course she's sure!" she snapped. "If someone capable of killing more than a dozen templars without injury…" she paused, turning to me. "You were uninjured, yes?"

"Not a scratch," I confirmed.

She nodded and turned back to Pickering. "…without injury, then when she returns with allies, you don't act in a hostile manner!"

I couldn't stop the smirk from flooding my face with self-satisfaction. Fiona had arrived in Ferelden so stiff she practically had a mage's staff up her backside. Now, after only a couple of weeks associating with me, she had released her inner snark. Oh to be a fly on the wall when she got back to Weisshaupt. They probably wouldn't know what to do with her.

Pickering's lips pressed together in disapproval. "No, but you can prepare traps and spring surprises," he pointed out. "My job is to make sure neither of you are hurt."

I reached out and patted his shoulder, noting with some surprise that it was rather high up. It occurred to me that Pickering was actually younger than me, and had experienced a late growth spurt in the past year, fuelled by wholesome and plentiful rations. "It's all right, Pick. I'm not expecting trouble, not with Bryant in charge, but there might be some young hotheads who lost a friend last time. They're not likely to be difficult to handle."

He gave me an odd look at my use of a nickname. "You'll forgive me if I worry just a little bit?"

"Of course," I agreed magnanimously. "By all means, worry away."

Thunder almost rolled his eyes and gave a "Whuff!" of disapproval at the way we were arguing on a wing-swept pier rather than in the relative comfort of a sealed, heated tower. He trotted off towards the main doors.

Before we reached them, they opened again, and Aaron burst out, skidding to a halt. "Er, sorry! I didn't… I mean, I shouldn't have… um, er,"

I waved a hand. "Don't worry about it. Just let us in."

"Er, right!" he said, opening the doors wide.

The entry hall was mostly empty. A templar at the far door was pleading with a second to let him into the tower proper. When the obstinate one saw us, he reached for his weapon, but did not draw it.

"You! What do you want, Warden?" he demanded, his voice echoing in the empty room.

"To speak with the Knight-Commander," I replied, not slowing as I entered. "I wish to introduce him to someone. And we need access to the Circle library."

"And if I refuse?" he demanded. I could hear his sneer under the helmet.

"How'd that work out for you lot last time?"

Calling their bluff worked. Bluffing when you don't hold any cards rarely works. We were quickly escorted to the Knight-Commander's office.

Bryant stood with his back turned to the door, facing his fireplace. He did not turn when we entered. First Enchanter Irving was also in the room, and he did turn to us. "Welcome back to the Circle, Kathryn," he said serenely. "I am pleasantly surprised at the lack of hostilities on this occasion."

"Thank you, and likewise. How are you, Bryant?"

Bryant sighed deeply, and finally turned around. "Tired." He focused on our templar escort. "That will be all. Dismissed."

"But Ser," the templar objected, "this mage is responsible for the deaths of many templars. It's not safe for you to be alone with-"

"Enough!" Bryant snapped. "I am perfectly safe in Commander Kathryn's presence. Return to your post."

"Ser," the templar replied with a nod and a salute. He turned and exited, disapproval radiating from his frame.

Bryant sighed again, but it was Irving who spoke. "You did not make many friends the last time you were here, Kathryn."

I nodded with a grim expression. "I know. But then, I didn't have all that many to begin with."

He looked me up and down. "You look well. Would you be so kind as to introduce us to your companions?"

"Sorry, yes, of course. This is Fiona, a Grey Warden mage stationed at Weisshaupt. This is Pickering, my escort and bodyguard." I turned to them. "This is Knight-Commander Bryant, late of Lothering and First Enchanter Irving."

Bryant nodded to each. "My apologies for your less-than-civil welcome. Many of the templars stationed here believe that Kathryn cursed the Tower on her last visit."

Fiona bowed slightly. "Thank you, Knight-Commander. It has been many years since I have been to Kinloch Hold. I was hoping to ask a boon of you and the First Enchanter."

Irving smiled. "And that would be?"

"I have been tasked by the First Warden on neutralizing the threat known as the Architect. Commander Kathryn managed to render that need moot, however I do need to compile a comprehensive report. I wish to examine the notes Warden Anders left here after his lecture on the nature of the darkspawn known as the Architect. I would also like to interview some of your senior enchanters for their thoughts and perspectives."

Irving turned to face Bryant. "A worthy study, from my perspective as one who sat through Warden Anders' lecture. I certainly have no objection. Bryant?"

Bryant shook his head distractedly. "No, by all means." He stopped and frowned, gazing at me speculatively. "As a matter of fact, would you please see to it personally, Irving? I have something I need to discuss with Commander Kathryn."

"Ah. As you wish. I shall assist our esteemed guest. It may be that some of our Senior Enchanters remember her from that dreadful business with Remille. I take it that is the reason for your visit?"

"It is, First Enchanter."

"Irving, please my dear. Having spent some time with Kathryn and her blasé attitude towards titles I have become quite accustomed to speaking informally. Shall we?"

I turned to Pickering. "Would you keep an eye on Fiona for me please?"

Pickering flicked his gaze to Bryant for a second before nodding. "As you wish. If you need me, just send word." He turned and followed Irving and Fiona out of the room.

Bryant waved a hand towards the chairs at his desk. "Please, take a seat. They are damned uncomfortable, but at present they're all I have available."

I took one of the vacant chairs. "You look… really tired," I said.

He grunted as he sat down in his own chair. "I am tired. Things have been," he paused, reflecting on his answer, "very difficult."

"How so?"

He rubbed at his eyes. "I was happy at Lothering. Life was simple. I served the Chantry to the best of my ability, and I think the most exciting thing that ever happened was being called to investigate an old widow who would threaten magical retribution upon the village youths who threw stones through her windows."

"Sounds boring," I offered.

From his expression, he appeared not to disagree. "Perhaps. But I was satisfied. I felt that I was doing the Maker's work in my own small way. And then you appeared in my Chantry one day, and life hasn't been the same since."

I gave a soft laugh at that. "The Blight changed a lot of things."

He made a sound of agreement as he clasped his hands together and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his desk. "I had faith that I was doing the right thing; faith that the Chantry was a force for good."

Ah. He was having a crisis of faith. "I take it you no longer feel as such?"

"I feel," he stopped, looking almost scared. "I feel that, perhaps, the Chantry has lost its way."

I swallowed, suddenly more than a little uncomfortable. "Was this before or after you were promoted here?"

He looked directly into my eyes then, something he had avoided doing so far in our conversation. There was a haunted look behind the bland expression. "I do not blame you for that. The Grand Cleric was not pleased at the actions I had taken. And while I followed the letter of the law, she deemed me in violation of my vows." He rubbed his temples. "Had you allowed Ser Conchobar to detain you, worse would have befallen you. And from the stories I heard of your last visit here, had I not been part of the patrol in the Wilds, you'd have destroyed it to the last man to avoid being arrested."

I shifted my weight. The chair was indeed damned uncomfortable. "You might be giving me too much credit there," I offered.

He shook his head. "No. Ser Conchobar is very inflexible. He would not have been able to adjust to your unconventional tactics." He frowned. "And your unconventional ability to shrug off our Holy Smites. You might have been in danger, but I have no doubt that you would have emerged triumphant." He shook his head. "So of all the possibilities, one person spending a few weeks in a dungeon is a rather small price to pay for no deaths."

"Did you rethink your faith then?"

He shook his head. "No. Oh, I thought about a great many things, but my faith was unaffected. I never doubted that I would be exonerated. But I did not expect such an abrupt change of fortune. An Orlesian templar with the political might to countermand the Grand Cleric released me from my cell and promoted me to Knight-Commander on the same day!"

I gave a soft snort of laughter. "I suspect it wouldn't be an everyday occurrence."

Bryant's smile widened momentarily, before disappearing. "No. Not at all. And I was then sent here, to salvage what I could from the mess left behind by Tavish's murder."

"Are you sure it was murder?" I asked; keen as I was to reduce any attention on Zevran. "I mean, is it at all possible that Tavish just fell down the stairs?"

Bryant frowned at me, searching for duplicity. He didn't appear to find any. "No. We have uncovered and arrested his murderer."

I felt a sudden chill. Had someone been railroaded into confessing to a capital crime committed by someone else? "Oh? Who?" I asked as neutrally as possible.

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Connor Guerrin."

The chill turned into an icy river down my spine. "Connor? Seriously? He's what, eleven?"

"Twelve, but his age is not pertinent." Bryant leaned back in his chair, looking much, much older than the last time I'd seen him. "At the time, one of your former companions was suspected. But he had an alibi not even the Divine herself could question."

I gave a soft snort. "He told me about his arrest. Some of your templars were equipping him with the ability of flight in order to explain how he did the deed."

Bryant's expression indicated that he had a similar opinion of the intellectual capabilities of such theorists. "Had Tavish been the only death, I would not have been capable of linking young Connor in any way beyond supposition. However, in the weeks after Tavish's murder, there were two further suspicious deaths. Connor was subsequently apprehended in the act of murdering a fellow student. He has admitted culpability to all four crimes."

I swallowed past the knot in my throat. "Admitted how? Under torture?"

Bryant jerked back as though stung by my accusation. "Maker, no! Even were I amenable to such techniques, it was not necessary. May the Maker forgive, but he was proud. Arrogant even. He admitted to all four murders without any persuasion."

"He was… proud," I repeated softly.

"Yes."

I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair. "That would indicate that Connor had some sort of motive."

Bryant gave me an appraising look. "Very good." He sighed deeply. "And, to the Chantry's great shame, he did have a motive."

Running the conversation back through my head, I made a connection. "Your faith. It is his motive to murder has shaken your faith."

The templar nodded, his face etched with sadness. "Yes. Connor's time here has not been pleasant; far from it. In the course of my investigation, I discovered that before Greagoir's retirement, he was bullied by his peers. But after Tavish was appointed, the abuse worsened horribly."

"Abuse?" I said, praying to the Maker that it wasn't what I suspected.

Bryant sighed. "Tavish was… brutal. In his journals, he describes Arl Eamon's reforms as a personal affront, and he took his frustrations out on the boy as a way to punish the father."

I found my hands clenched into fists under my crossed arms. "This abuse, what form did it take?"

"I hesitate to describe it. Connor was… tortured… sodomized. Regularly. He was physically and magically tormented by both templar and peer, on Tavish's orders." He shook his head. "How anyone could treat another person, let alone a helpless child, in such a way is beyond my understanding. That men who had taken holy vows did so is, well, perverse."

I forced my teeth apart. It took all my will not to snarl when I said, "So, a boy with magical talent must, by Chantry law, submit to a Circle. Where, also by Chantry law, he must submit to templar authority. Is it the Chantry's position that buggering helpless, imprisoned children is an acceptable practice?"

He did not answer right away. That alone sent blood surging to my face.

"It is, isn't it?" I screamed.

He shook his head. "Not… officially. It could never be. But in Tavish's papers I found written authorisation from the Grand Cleric to do whatever he deemed necessary to pressure Arl Eamon to renounce his reforms. It pains me to say it, but I am inclined to believe that he would not have been punished for his actions, had they been known. Indeed, though it horrifies me to my soul, I suspect Tavish's actions would have been condoned."

I felt my respect for Bryant dry up like water drops spilled on a stove. "And what punishment are you going to mete out to the templars and mages who took part in this little 'encouragement by proxy'?"

Bryant winced. "Kathryn, you must understand, I only discovered the extent of the abuse after Connor was arrested."

"In the course of your investigation," I sneered.

"Yes."

"How long ago was Connor arrested?"

"Five weeks."

I blinked, my thoughts confounded by that unexpected answer. "Really? That long ago?"

He nodded. "Yes. I have been meticulous in my investigation. All conspiring parties have been identified and interrogated. The worst offenders have already been sentenced to Aeonar. Many more deserve a cell there, but I cannot operate the Circle safely with any fewer templars than I have left. And the Chantry hierarchy has been most obstinate in delivering replacements for those sent to Aeonar."

I narrowed my eyes. "Really? When I was an apprentice here, if a templar accused someone of being a Blood Mage, the investigation barely consisted of, 'Are you sure?' 'Yes.' 'Right then, schedule an execution.' Why are you being so diligent?"

He slumped, looking much smaller in his armour. "Because when I finally finish my report, I will be duty bound to execute Connor."

Those words caused a rush of renewed respect to flood back into me. "You're not vilifying him, are you? You're protecting him."

He winced. "Not as such. I can't imagine that being kept in a cell unaware of your fate for an extended period is anything but a torture in and of itself. I am simply trying to discern an outcome of this debacle whereby a victim of rape and torture isn't executed."

I pinched my lower lip. "Did Irving…" I didn't finish the question.

Bryant waved a hand. "Yes, he showed me your note. It was a clever ploy, but Irving is canny enough to realise that it was only useful if Connor had been selected for the Rite of Tranquillity. Had Irving used it in an effort to protect the boy from Tavish, the punishments might well have intensified, simply as a way to punish you as well. And while I recognise your Right of Conscription, using it on a twelve year old boy is out of the question, even to save him from the gallows."

I had to agree. The Joining was brutal; grown men failed it regularly. It was highly unlikely Connor would survive it, as young as he was. And I'd need to put him through it immediately if I did recruit him from the gallows. "So what do we do now?"

He gave a growl of frustration and rose to his feet. "I wish I knew. As abhorrent as Tavish's actions were, he was the legal authority in the Circle." He began pacing the width of his office.

I ran my hand down my face, thinking hard. Zevran told me that he spoke to Connor before Tavish died. Had he recruited the lad to assist in his mission? Or had Connor insisted on having the honour of killing his rapist? "Tavish fell down the stairs, or at least, was probably pushed. How did the others die?"

Bryant shuffled some papers on his desk and pulled out a sheet of parchment. "The second was poisoned, though his death was initially thought to be natural causes. After his arrest, Connor taunted us with the nature of the poison; specifically how we had the antidote on hand in great quantity, had we known to use it. He drowned the third in his bath. Specifically, Connor paralysed him and then pushed his head under the water."

I tried hard not to sound impressed. It was bloody difficult. "And the last?"

Bryant shook his head. "The worst. A fellow apprentice. One of his classmates."

I let my mind run back to the last time I spoke to Connor. "Would this student be named Yvonne or Darren?"

Bryant blinked. "Yes. Yvonne, that's right. She had a friend named Darren, but he…" Bryant's features took on a sudden horrified glaze. "Maker no…"

"He died?" I asked rhetorically.

Bryant shook his head slowly, his eyes still focused on the past. "No, but the Rite of Tranquillity was forced upon him. Before I arrived."

"Let me guess. Someone turned up evidence to suggest he was dabbling in Demonology or Blood Magic. He was forced to undergo the Rite while insisting that he was innocent."

The Knight-Commander rubbed at his eyes. "Essentially." He dropped his hands and stared at me. "How did you know? About the names, I mean?"

I shrugged. "Darren and Yvonne were the leaders of the group bullying Connor. If he had been visited by an ex-Antivan Crow and given some instruction or taught some tactics, I can easily imagine that they would be the first on Connor's list."

"Five victims," Bryant whispered, shaking his head.

"How did Yvonne die?" I asked.

"In class. In front of dozens of witnesses."

I felt my scalp tingle at the prospect. "It sounds like he wanted to be caught."

"Yes," he agreed. "They were demonstrating their control of primal fire. Part of the exercise was to exclude a partner from their spell's effective area."

I nodded. "I remember. But as I recall, there were always two healers on hand during those exercises. How did he manage to kill someone with direct access to healing?"

"Many of our more skilled healers are out of the Circle now, assisting in the rebuilding of Ferelden. During the class, Yvonne partnered with Connor, and she deliberately burned him with her spell, while claiming that it was an accident. The Senior Enchanter healed the boy and chastised Yvonne. Then it was Connor's turn." Bryant shook his head. "He had treated her necklace with something akin to naptha the night before. When his spell struck her, the necklace erupted into flame, searing her neck so quickly and deeply that she died before healing could be administered."

Zevran would be impressed. Very impressed. "I see. So, what would you prefer to happen?"

"Connor cannot return to classes. That is a given. If he were not guilty of a capital crime, private tutoring may have been possible. But I cannot see how I can uphold my oath to protect the Circle and not have him executed."

I rubbed my chin. There was another option. But Bryant would be honour bound to stop it. "Could I perhaps have a private chat with him?"

Bryant escorted me down to the dungeons beneath the Circle. With the exception of the time I'd accompanied Jowan and Lily, I'd never been in this part of the tower before, and I had a brief urge to request time to map the labyrinthine tunnels. From Fiona's story, it seemed that the Deep Roads connected with the tower somehow.

With the Circle's manpower shortage, the only guard was a single templar on the outer doors to the entire prison complex. We were given access, though the guard did plead with the Knight-Commander to let him assemble an escort for us.

Bryant waved that away, insisting that he was perfectly safe in my company.

Connor did not look well. His hair was long, oily and lank. He looked up at our arrival, but did not react in any other way. Not even surprise.

Bryant stopped a couple of paces back from the cell. "Connor, you have a visitor."

Connor's dead eyes just regarded him apathetically before focusing on me. He gave the shallowest nod.

"May I?" I asked, pointing towards the cell.

Bryant's lips pursed, but he nodded. "I will have to take your weapons and potions. Sorry."

I nodded. I wouldn't need them. "I understand. You realise that you are just about the only templar I'd even consider disarming myself for?" I asked, handing over Spellweaver and Spellfury. I started unbuckling my potions bandoleer.

He gave me a wry smile. "I am honoured. Would you prefer me to leave them with the guard at the door or take them with me back to my study?"

I hesitated, but I really wanted to give Bryant reason to trust me. "Take them with you. I will come and see you directly after I speak with Connor." I passed him my bandoleer and my skinning knife.

He nodded. "I shall see to it that you are not disturbed."

"Thank you."

Bryant gave Connor a sympathetic look, before spinning on his heel and walking away.

"Hello Connor," I said softly.

"Hello Arlessa Kathryn," he said in a soft, hoarse voice. "I take it that you are here because of what I did?"

I nodded. "Killing three templars – including the Knight-Commander – is no mean feat. Killing two classmates, not so much."

He didn't react. "One."

"You don't count tricking the templars into making one of them Tranquil counts?"

He shook his head. "Not really. I hoped he'd be executed. But I'm glad someone figured it out. I was beginning to worry that no one would."

I crouched down in a deep squat. "Why would that matter?"

The first flicker of emotion raced across his face. "Because the next time someone tries to bully someone else, maybe they'll think twice about it!" he said hotly. "Or maybe the Enchanters will stop the bullying before someone else dies."

I nodded calmly. "I see. Do you want to die?"

My blunt question caused him to finally focus on my face. "Yes."

"Why?"

He clenched his jaw. "Because I can hear them! All the time. Calling to me! Every night in my dreams the demons whisper to me. They want me to let them in again. They promise that they'll hurt everyone who hurt me."

I sighed deeply. "By the grace of Andraste, I'm so sorry."

He seemed to deflate. "Killing someone stops them talking to me for a while. I can sleep then."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Shit." The last thing he needed was to become addicted to killing.

That actually got a small smile out of him. "Mother would be very cross with you for that."

"Oh, I think she'd have plenty of other things to be cross with me for than just my language," I replied with a similar smile.

My heart rose a bit as the small smile endured. "She told me that I was never to associate with you again, the last time she visited. I couldn't wait for you to visit after that." And then, the tiny smile faded. "And then Tavish came."

"Have you told them about the demons?"

"No. Why would I? It would just give them something else to hurt me with."

I had to accept that. "I suppose. How have you been treated since being put in here?"

He shrugged. "Okay. No one has tied me down and, and, and…" he stiffened, and his hands started trembling.

"Shh," I said, slowly reaching out and slipping an arm around his shoulder. "It's all right, Connor. I will not let it happen again."

He clutched at me tightly, his shoulders shaking. But not a single sob escaped him. Not one tear. Such reactions no doubt simply caused harsher punishments.

Even though we were alone, I was still cautious enough that I placed my lips close to his ear to whisper, "What if you could escape?"

The trembling slowly stopped. "This cell?" he whispered back.

"No. The Tower."

He sucked in a breath and jerked out of my arms. "How?"

"Did you get my gift? The mice?"

He frowned. "No. But then, I've not been given anything but some bread and water in here."

I winced. It would take him too long to learn an animal form in the cell. Longer than he had left, given Bryant's limited ability to stretch out his investigation much longer. Perhaps we could kill two demons with the one spell, so to speak.

"You want to what?" Bryant exclaimed, rising to his feet.

"I want to go into the Fade," I repeated. "There are demons that are tempting him. I want to take him into the Fade, and between us destroy all the demonic bastards attempting to steal his soul."

Bryant glanced towards Irving for support, but the old man just looked intrigued. "What benefit would such a course of action serve?" he asked.

I took a deep breath. "Connor is going to face the Maker soon enough. I'd prefer he did it with his soul as his own. If his will breaks before he is executed, you could well end up with another cock-up that could rank on the Uldred-scale."

"Your colourful rhetoric aside," Irving interrupted calmly, "I'm afraid we do not have the requisite lyrium reserves on hand for such an endeavour."

I gave them a small smile. "That isn't necessary. The Architect had researched the Fade extensively, and developed a method to send people there. It requires the caster to go along for the ride, however." Something the Mother neglected to inform her minion. "As the spell is now Grey Warden lore, Fiona here will need to remain in the Tower and cast the counter spell at a set time."

Irving looked as though I'd just killed his pet. "You cannot share this with the Circle? Having the means to travel to the Fade with just a spell would be extraordinary!"

I glanced at Fiona's disapproving expression. I needed her on side with this. "Normally, I would have no objection. However, Fiona here is Weisshaupt's representative, and knows far more about their policies regarding such matters. I'll have to defer to her."

She looked surprised at that. Very surprised indeed. "Commander Kathryn is quite correct. Such lore needs to be vetted before we can simply release it."

Bryant looked at me speculatively. "Exactly how did you come across this lore? If it does not violate any secrets, that is."

I smiled at his thoughtfulness. "Honestly? A darkspawn mage trapped me and the Wardens with me in the Fade using it. We found the notes on the spell in the Architect's lair."

His eyes narrowed. "How did you escape if your companions were drawn into the Fade too?" he asked intently.

I grinned at him. "Might I just say that it's nice to see someone with brains running this place?"

He gave me a small smile, but said, "Smart enough to know you haven't answered."

I barked a laugh. "True. There is another counter spell that can be cast from within the Fade, however, it takes the life force of someone to power. The darkspawn mage who trapped us was the unlucky bugger that time. It's better for someone outside to pull us back."

He nodded. "I agree with that, but not with the idea itself. Are you sure it's necessary?"

I nodded. "I believe that Tavish was not mindless in his brutality. I believe he was attempting to force Connor into accepting a demon's help, and turning into an abomination."

Fiona gasped. "Why would he do such a thing?"

Irving slumped. "Young Connor has fallen prey to a malicious Fade spirit once before. Had he lost control, it could have been seen as evidence that the new reforms were too dangerous to continue."

"Well, Connor's experiences have made him as hard as silverite. He has been tempted by them for months, and has not given in so far." I didn't mention that murder fulfilled something inside him.

Irving placed his fingertips together, looking thoughtful. "What do you propose?"

I cleared my throat. "I will stand just outside Connor's cell. We will then both go into the Fade together. I will help him overcome the demons tempting him, and hopefully give him peace until his time comes."

Bryant looked at me balefully. "You plan to risk much for him, Kathryn."

I shook my head. "Not so much. I have faced powerful demons in the Fade before. I am confident that I can keep him sane. But, if the worst happens, the abomination will be behind a cell door, and easily contained until it can be destroyed."

Irving rose to his feet. "I shall assist you, Kathryn."

Bugger. "Thank you, but that's not necessary."

His serene tone of voice did not change. "Necessary or not, it is my duty to protect all students of the Circle. I allowed you to face a demon for Connor alone once before. I will not shirk that duty again."

Bryant nodded. "I do not like this, but I cannot fault your bravery or intentions. Irving, you have my thanks for volunteering to assist."

Bloody chivalrous bastards.

[br]

Despite my efforts, I could not dissuade Irving from his plan to help. Pickering also stuck his hand up and demanded to come along to protect me. Fiona agreed to watch over us and pull us out at the nominated time. It was a relief; I would have been most uncomfortable with only templars and Circle mages watching over my insensate form.

Still, I had to fob Irving off somehow. The trouble was that his offer was both logical and sane. Any arguments against it could just as easily be used against my involvement.

The three of us were given thin pallets to lie upon outside of the cell door. Connor's comfort wasn't considered by the templars; not that it a real bother to someone in the Fade, but it made it nicer when you returned to the mortal world.

With final wishes of luck, the outer door was shut and locked, leaving us alone. I hadn't tested the range of the spell, so we were taking no chances with accidentally dragging anyone else along. Pickering and Irving took up their places on the floor.

"Are you ready, my dear boy?" Irving asked Connor.

Connor swallowed, but nodded.

"Normally, such an endeavour would use lyrium," Irving continued, giving him the same redundant lecture he gave me at my Harrowing. He explained that we would be going into the Fade to face the demons tormenting him.

"Enough, Irving," I said as the old man droned on. "He understands. Let's get on with it."

"The Fade is not to be taken lightly," he chided.

I sighed. "He's not taking a Harrowing, he's going into the Fade with two powerful mages, a bodyguard and a mabari as companions. He'll be fine."

Thunder barked an affirmative.

Connor nodded. "Let's go."

Irving sighed. "As you wish. Lie down and prepare for some disorientation."

[br]

I rose to my feet and looked around the Fade, scanning for dangers. Beside me, Irving groaned. Connor and Pickering were on my other side, and Thunder at my feet.

"Good, we're all here."

Connor blinked. "You didn't know?"

I shrugged. "I've never cast that spell before. Best not to take chances."

Pickering glanced around at the surreal landscape. "Um, Comm- Kathryn? What are they?"

I glanced in the indicated direction. Dark shadows approached, dropping the apparent temperature. "Bad thoughts. Nightmares. That sort of thing."

"Right," he replied after swallowing hard.

Connor jumped and looked nervous at the mutable surrounds. "I think I… this place is familiar."

I nodded. "I suspect it is. You are with friends this time. And remember, above all, when we leave, come out of the Fade alone."

Irving also rose to his feet, his Fade-self looking far more vigorous than his usual self. "Ah, the Fade always makes me feel alive. Now, what is your real plan, Kathryn?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Real plan? What real plan?"

He gave me a stern look. "Don't be coy with me. You wanted to get Connor into the Fade alone. Battling his demons is a convenient excuse, but hardly the real reason. I do hope you do not intend to suggest he remains here. Such an existence would be-"

I gestured towards the approaching darkness. "Can have this discussion later? Connor, Ready your magic please. I want you to target those shadows and cast spells as hard and as fast as you can."

He nodded, and competently, if inelegantly, wove his hands through the prescribed somatic gestures for bursts of cold magic. The first shadow screeched with rage and shuddered.

"Excellent work, my boy," Irving offered. "But try and keep your wrists a little more supple. Like thus," he said, finishing by weaving the same spell with sublime skill and ease. A shadow was destroyed. "Too much tension in your forearms inhibits the flow of mana necessary."

I snickered. "I've always had good results with keeping the last two fingers on your left hand apart. It helps magnify the effect. Like this." A shadow shattered most satisfactorily. Connor gasped.

Irving sniffed. "Show off."

"Why don't you tell us this sort of thing in class?" Connor demanded.

"The Enchanters have to teach the most generic method to appeal to all students, regardless of aptitude," I explained before I gave him a mock glare. "I don't see magic being done, young man."

"Oh, sorry," he mumbled, but began casting spells again. He focused less on elemental magics and more on entropic curses, but he had certainly learned well in his limited time at the Circle.

A desire demon sashayed out of the gloom, running a hand across her full breasts. She opened her mouth in a sultry pout, only to get a face-full of my magic. It petrified her in place. I wrenched power from my surrounds and shattered the demon with a snarl and a prison of pure force. Sodding succubi.

Irving swallowed. "Goodness. Such inelegance does not-"

"Oh shut it, Irving," I snapped. "Let's make a statement, shall we?"

"Yeah!" Connor said loudly, his dead eyes suddenly alight.

Irving glanced from Connor to me, and seemed to find something depressingly familiar in his attitude. "Oh dear."

With Irving's skill and deep reserves of power combined with my talent for large-scale destruction, none of the minor demons that approached our position were any danger. Connor determinedly, then gleefully, chipped in as he could. A steady stream of suggestions from Irving and me soon had his spells noticeably more effective.

Pickering and Thunder darted in and out as needed, which wasn't often. Generally only when a proper demon made an appearance. I was obliged to slap him on the back of the head the first time he crossed blades with a desire demon. He was a young man after all. And there were fewer stupider things in the universe than an inexperienced young man confronted with a set of exposed tits.

Soon, all the nearby demons were vanquished, though more would take their place if we lingered. I could almost feel Connor's inner darkness calling to them. I settled myself for a moment, breathing deeply to focus my concentration.

"Kathryn? Would you care to enlighten me as to your plans?"

I kept my eyes closed as I shushed him. "Let me see if I can do this first. Otherwise, it's a moot point."

Obligingly, he shut up. I could hear Connor shift nervously from one foot to another, but he also kept his tongue still.

I sent my mind back to the sloth demon's realm created with Niall's life force. I'd learned to shapeshift into different forms there. Hopefully, I could still…

"Woah!" Connor gasped.

I opened my eyes, finding my two companions looked much smaller than they had just moments before. My golem Fade-form was still as impressive as ever. And it made such a satisfying sound when you smashed a stone fist into a stone palm. Shale's constant denigration of inferior, squishy beings was totally understandable. Concentrating, I shifted back.

"Good, I can still do it," I said unnecessarily.

"A remarkable piece of control, Kathryn. Excellent work," Irving congratulated me.

I nodded. "Thank you. I learned to do that when a demon caught us during Uldred's rebellion. It is not exactly magic; the ability must be given, not learned. I suspect that even a non-mage could do it, if they were somehow brought into the Fade."

"Can you teach me?" Connor blurted.

I raised an eyebrow. "What did I just say?"

"Er, oh. You can only give it, not teach it," he mumbled, suddenly looking frightened of me.

"That's right. Now, get ready. I'm going to give you the ability to change."

His eyes widened comically. "Really?"

I gave him a merry grin. "That's the plan. I'm going to give it to you. But not the golem form. This is the form I am going to give you." And with that I used the Fade-shifting ability to turn into a mouse.

Despite the fact that he was a little dejected at only gaining the ability to turn into a mouse rather than a much more impressive golem, he diligently focused on the task at hand. I felt a bit of a wrench as I lost the ability, but I certainly felt relieved when Connor proved capable of performing the magic.

As the young apprentice practiced shifting between his Fade-self and Fade-mouse, Irving drew close. "I take it this is a component of your plan? As intriguing as this ability is, it is only of use when you control your surroundings in the Fade."

"It wouldn't be necessary if someone had given him the mice I sent."

He frowned in confusion. "The mice? Oh yes, we received those. Such animals are not permitted on the island. I'm afraid that they were confiscated and destroyed. Ever since the Tower's last mouser died we need to keep the vermin population down ourselves."

"Mr. Wiggums wasn't it? I heard he took out three templars after being possessed by a rage demon." You know, it sounded really stupid now that I thought about it.

"Goodness! Who told you that?"

I grimaced at my gullibility and waved that away. "Never mind."

"As you wish. Now, your plans? I believe I have been patient enough."

I took a deep breath. If Irving took this the wrong way, I may well be obliged to find out if my magic was a match for his. Or at least have Pickering stab him in the back. "I want to give Connor the ability to escape the Tower."

Irving's lips pursed. "You wish to offer him the life of a fugitive apostate?"

It was a neutral statement, offering no hint to his opinion. I turned to face him. "No. He want's to die, Irving. I wish to offer him a choice, nothing more."

"I see. By insisting on accompanying you into the Fade, I have unwittingly made myself into an accomplice."

I looked over at Connor, whose face was alight with joy at the new sensations of magical forms. "Tell me that you think executing him is justice."

"It is not that simple, Kathryn."

"Typical," I sneered. "I knew you were too much of a coward to take a stand one way or another."

He gave me a speculative look. "Perhaps we should turn the question around, then. Do you think he should escape punishment for murdering a classmate?"

I nodded. "I think what he has endured was punishment enough. Besides, it was most likely that ongoing abuse that set him upon the course to murder."

Irving sighed. "I cannot condone what happened to him, Kathryn. Just as I cannot condone his actions against Yvonne. Vengeance is not justice."

I stared up into his tired eyes. "And when someone cannot get justice? What then? When it is those in power who are in the wrong? In those cases, vengeance is the only alternative to perpetual victimisation."

Irving let out a slow breath. "I wish you were wrong." He shook his head. "Philosophical differences aside, how do you intend to enable Connor to escape his confinement? I assume the ability to turn into a mouse in the Fade has something to do with it?"

I nodded. "He needs intimate knowledge of that form before we leave."

"Oh? Why?"

"Because now I'm going to teach him to assume that form back in the mortal realm."

Watching the First Enchanter become almost childlike in his enthusiasm to learn a completely unknown form of magic was unnerving. I discussed the basics of the theory with him as Connor continued to practice swapping forms. Irving's powerful intellect quickly absorbed the concepts involved.

That helped immeasurably when it came time to teach Connor the discipline. Irving was a powerful spellcaster, a pacifist and a scholar at heart, but first and foremost, he was a teacher. He could take my disjointed and complex instructions and turn them into clear and concise steps.

The instruction took several hours; mostly because of the constant demonic interruptions.

Demons still gravitated towards Connor. Mostly they were minor irritations, which Thunder and Pickering were quite capable of dispatching with minimal assistance. But we were confronted by a few more powerful specimens. Two hunger demons presented us with a moderate challenge. A sloth demon had the potential to be dangerous, but I convinced it that we were too much effort for the reward. With only words too, much to Irving's surprised approval.

But the worst was another little familiar creature from my past. Without the constraints placed upon it by the Harrowing ritual, the pride demon I'd called Mouse was exceedingly dangerous.

Had it not been for its nature, it may have killed us. But its 'pride' wouldn't allow it to simply sneak up on us as a tiny rodent, assume its natural form and lay waste to an unsuspecting group.

Not when it could gloat and proclaim its superiority first.

Connor screamed when the twelve-foot tall monstrosity appeared nearby.

Mouse basked in the sound. "Ah, it seems that you have grown incautious in your dotage, old friend," it said to Irving.

"It has been quite some time since my Harrowing, yes. But I am not a helpless apprentice now," the First Enchanter replied, easing himself in front of Connor.

As they talked, I passed Spellfury to Connor so that he would have a weapon other than his magic.

"Apprentice, no. But helpless? You are not protected by the ritual I am bound to. I can take any action I desire." It turned to face me as I moved closer. "Ah, the Grey Warden. You escaped my influence once. I shall not allow such an insult to stand."

"Wow. I'm impressed by that level of self-deluded optimism," I replied.

"I shall enjoy consuming your soul," it snarled.

I glanced at my companions. Irving was as serene as possible, given the circumstances, but Connor was trembling. Pickering was almost petrified with surprise and terror, but Thunder was crouched and ready.

I sighed. Not having Alistair or Oghren to hold a line meant that it was up to me.

The demon addressed the lad. "You are known to us, boy. It is time for you to accept the gifts offered to you."

Despite the danger we were in, and his vibrating knees, Connor spat, "Piss off you bastard!"

"That's my boy!" I shouted and threw myself into my golem form. That surprised the demon enough that I managed to get the first slug in, smashing an uppercut into its jaw. It staggered back a step before swiping at me with its jagged-edged forearms. The blow smashed into my side, splintering shards of rock from my torso.

In the battle that followed, Irving was obliged to focus entirely on his magic, leaving out the little hints and tips he was constantly giving Connor; and leaving me to do the heavy lifting.

It was painful to stand toe-to-toe with a gigantic, powerful demon; one that towered over even my current impressive form. It would have been worse had Irving not managed to temporarily petrify it on occasion. Still, I had to keep it away from Connor and Irving, and trust that the First Enchanter could wear it down before it pummelled me into gravel.

Thunder would bark and snarl, but kept away from Mouse's dangerous swings. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him sudden bound away. A feminine scream indicated that he had found a new playmate that was trying to use the big bastard as a distraction.

Pickering unlimbered his crossbow and began peppering Mouse with bolts. He had to drop the bow at one point to help Thunder with other minor demons, however. His wide-eyed expression suggested that he was rethinking his enthusiasm for adventure.

Connor even got into the spirit of things. He took his mouse form and scurried off to one side, out of the pride demon's line of sight. He'd then bombard it with distracting spells and powerful pulses of magic from my staff while Irving lashed out with a display of focused magical destruction that even I found impressive. He barely touched me as I wrestled the gigantic demon.

I reached out and grabbed the spines on the demon's left arm and hauled backwards. It lost its balance, but smashed its right arm down hard on my leg as it fell forward. We both fell to our knees. Now that neither of us were able to move, I leaned back and took a leaf out of Oghren's book; slamming my stone head forward directly onto Mouse's snout.

It collapsed under my attack, but pain flashed through my head.

Mouse screamed and clutched at its mouth. I pulled back and launched a haymaker, smashing my stone fist hard into the back of its hands, snapping its head back.

A gigantic backhanded swipe sent me sprawling.

Mouse rose to its feet and towered over me. I lashed out with my good leg, kicking low. I caught it on the knee and once again dropped it to the ground.

Irving shouted and finally the demon froze solid. I got to my knees and grabbed a hunk of Fade-stone. With all my strength, I hurled it at Mouse.

The stone shattered just as the petrification ended. Mouse screamed in agony, but staggered back upright.

I followed suit, with a little more staggering. With a limping charge, I dove at Mouse's legs, bringing him down once again. Hitting the ground hard seemed to do more damage to large creatures than small, so who was I to argue with natural laws.

I rolled over and onto Mouse's body, gripping its neck with one hand. I landed exactly one powerful punch before it flexed and hurled me away, hitting the ground hard.

I collapsed back, letting my body return to its usual form. "Ow," I said clearly.

Connor raced over to me, skidding to a halt on his knees. "Arlessa Kathryn!" he shouted, reaching for my shoulders. "Are you all right?"

I grabbed hold of his own shoulder and allowed him to haul me into a sitting position. "I doubt it."

Mouse roared and charged at us. I weaved my hands and cast a petrification spell. The demon stiffened and fell over, unable to halt its momentum. I gripped Spellweaver's hilt and drew the weapon.

"Time to die," I told Mouse, and limped over. My spell wore off just as I jammed my sword into its throat. In the midst of its burbling scream of rage, Irving hit it with a powerful jolt of electricity, causing it to jerk and flex. Unfortunately, the spell grounded itself through me, hurling me backwards.

In my helpless state, I vaguely made out Thunder appear in front of me, protecting his mistress. It was a nice gesture.

I heard a scream and then a shout. I shook my head to clear it, just in time to see Pickering ride Mouse's head just as Sigrun had ridden the dragon. His sword was buried in Mouse's eye socket.

Slowly, the tableau unravelled. Mouse fell forward, dead. Its fall meant that Pickering experienced the same sort of leverage as Oghren, if not to the same degree. He ended up several yards away in a heap of tangled limbs.

Irving stood stooped over, his hands on his knees for support. "That was… rather difficult."

I shared a glance with Connor and rolled my eyes. He gave me a grin with a manic edge, and I realised that he was starting to believe he might survive after all.

"Right," I said, rising unsteadily to my feet. "Sorry about that, Irving. It looks like you're going to have to bind another demon for your Harrowings."

"That is… quite all right… Kathryn," he wheezed. "It was… past due."

After Mouse's demise, we sat for a while to regain our wind and heal. Pickering's wounds were tended to quickly and competently by Irving. Connor looked at the First Enchanter with a lot more respect. Once our breathing had returned to normal, I suggested continuing our lesson.

After a few hours, I believed that both Connor and Irving could use the shapeshifter spells competently. I gave them all of Morrigan's warnings, that any form you take be understood completely. Irving immediately declared that he was going to get a pet bird to study. I suggested a duck, to Connor's amusement. And while Connor now had the knowledge of the mouse form, he'd need to practice being in that form for long periods before he would be used to it.

As we waited for Fiona to pull us from the Fade, I told Connor the story of how I was recruited. How Jowan and I made our way down through the bowels of the Tower to find and destroy his phylactery. I made sure I described the path under the Tower very accurately.

Irving sighed deeply, but did not interfere.

I then explained that Pickering, Thunder and I were leaving the Circle the next day, but I was planning on camping a mile or so down the road towards Redcliffe for a few days. His grin told me that he understood what I expected of him.

I just hoped that Irving would let the boy go.

I cracked an eyelid open and groaned. "How long?"

"Half a day, as you requested," Fiona supplied. "Here. Water."

I managed to grasp the goblet and sip. "The others?"

Bryant answered from behind her. "They are waking now. Did you succeed?"

I gave a rough chuckle. "Oh yes. I suspect Connor is not in danger any more. He's probably not considered an easy prospect now. The lad even stood up to a pride demon and shot spells at it."

"A pride demon?" Fiona gasped.

Bryant looked suitably impressed. "You defeated a pride demon? Impressive."

I would have grinned at him had I not still been a bit woozy. "And some hunger demons, a bunch of desire demons and lots of rage demons. We got a bit carried away towards the end there. I suspect demons are going to be a bit thin on the ground around the Tower in the near future."

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AN: Thanks to my reviewers - Nate88, Ie-maru, Pintsizedpsyhco, Isabeau of Greenlea, MB18932, anon, timunderwood9, forget the rest, Arsinoe de Blassenville, MemoriesoftheForgottenGuardi an, unanimously anonymous. mostly, SgtGinger, Van0726 (x3), Bhoddisatva and Shinkansen.