Chapter 6

When the four of them had passed the gates of Haven once more, the sun had nearly set. Soldiers huddled around fires watched with wide eyes as the odd group went by.

Cassandra told a very surprised Leliana to call off the search. Then she told Aaron he would answer her questions.

Aaron had replied that he was here of his own free will, that he didn't expect to change his mind overnight, and that she would eat something and get a full night's sleep first before he answered anything.

Varric, Leliana, and Solas had strongly agreed, and Cassandra had relented.

Now it was dawn, and Cassandra obstinately sat guard outside the door to the bedroom that Aaron had appropriated in the chantry, her body feeling almost human again, but her mind no less emotionally burnt out. She was waiting to ambush Aaron as soon as he came out, so she could start the interrogation immediately.

Just as Cassandra was starting to become suspicious that the room was empty and Aaron had stolen away yet again, the iron door handle turned with a creak, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin.

Cassandra relaxed her death grip on the armrests and prepared to greet him, but the door didn't move. The door handle turned no further, as if Aaron was frozen on the other side. Cassandra stared at the handle, waiting as the stillness stretched on, and on, and yet on, long after the point of awkwardness. As the seconds ticked slowly by, she became driven by an abstract curiosity of how long Aaron was going to wait with his hand on the door handle, trying to imagine what could possibly be going through his mind.

After it seemed an entire Age had passed, the handle finally turned all the way, and the door swung open.

Cassandra was very surprised to see a nearly unrecognizable Aaron step out. On second glance, he hadn't actually changed anything he had been wearing, but his presentation and demeanor were completely different. He was standing straighter, no longer looking like he wanted to run or fight. He had lowered his hood and pulled his gray, concealing mantle back over his shoulders like a cape, exposing the entirety of his gleaming silverite armor. It was of an older, simpler style than modern armors, which lent it a more sleek, natural quality, like the armor was his actual body rather than a great heap of ornaments he was wearing. Cassandra would never have admitted it, but he looked every inch the heroic knight of legend that people were already making him out to be.

The effect was ruined the moment he spoke.

"Ah, hello, Seeker Cassandra." he rasped.

Cassandra frowned. If she had tried to explain why his voice seemed so wrong to her, she would have sounded incredibly petty. It had nothing to do with his inflection, or tone, or even what he said. In fact, he tended to speak very mildly, and what he said sounded almost reasonable, but his actual voice just sounded evil, so cracked and deep and hoarse, like he was a villain straight out of one of Varric's stories.

"I'm glad you seem to have recovered," Aaron continued, blithely unaware of Cassandra's distrustful glare. "We should—"

Aaron stopped with a startled choking noise. As he had spoken to Cassandra, the entire chantry had fallen silent, every eye in the building turning to stare at him, and he had just noticed it.

Aaron's façade of confidence visibly shattered. His hands went to the heavy cloth of his mantle, gripping it tightly and drawing it closer around himself, somehow making the gesture seem mortified, like he was covering up his nakedness, despite not an inch of his skin being visible. He still stood ramrod straight rather than his usual slouch, but it now made him look more like a petrified deer rather than a confident knight.

Cassandra stood, putting herself in front of Aaron's line of sight. "We will go someplace where we can speak privately," she said firmly, reaching out to steer him along with her. Aaron flinched away from her touch.

Frowning deeper, Cassandra instead turned the motion into a gesture at the door across the chantry, with stairs leading underground.

The incongruous addition of a dungeon to a holy site of the Maker had been a legacy of the dragon cult of so-called 'Disciples of Andraste' that had made Haven their home for centuries. It wouldn't accomplish anything to actually put Aaron into one of those dark cages, but Cassandra could still use the place to interrogate him without being overheard. The impromptu war room in the back of the chantry was a joke; the door might as well have been parchment for all that it blocked the voices of those inside.

Cassandra led Aaron down the long stone stairs, into the dimly lit corridor leading to the cells. Aaron had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the hanging braziers.

Cassandra preferred to stand during interrogations, as she believed it helped to make her more intimidating, but she decided against it here and sat down on a crate.

Aaron, for his part, elected to stand.

Cassandra began with the bait she had decided to lead with. "You claim to not remember anything, Aaron, and I will assume for the moment that this is the truth. So tell me, based on what you do remember, would you have any motive to attack or disrupt the Conclave? Given your return and the vision we saw, I am willing to consider the possibility that this was an unintended consequence. A mistake."

Aaron lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. "I can think of no motive."

"It would be understandable if you had held a grudge," Cassandra said, doing her best to sound sympathetic. "The Templar Order has perpetrated many abuses. Atrocities, even. And you are an apostate. By your very nature, you would be hunted. Targeted by them."

Cassandra had no idea whether he would catch on to what she was doing or not. She was mostly trying to place a lower bound on Aaron's intelligence. Would he confess to a sympathetic ear? Would he gloat if he perceived no threat from her? Cassandra had once thought such a trick would never work, that no one could be that stupid, before her mentors had demonstrated the depressing truth of it before her, time and time again. However he responded, it would tell her something valuable.

"I did not wish the peace negotiations to be disrupted. This war, from what I have heard of it, is an indefensible waste of life. It is hard for me to put to words how dismayed I am that the peace negotiations were destroyed in such a way." Aaron said, with such absolute disgust that Cassandra was unsure whether he was genuine or simply a fantastic actor.

"Perhaps peace is exactly what you wanted to prevent," Cassandra said in a low voice, springing the trap. "Perhaps you wanted the war to continue. Perhaps you didn't want the mages to concede to the templars, but to win!"

"That doesn't make any sense." Aaron said flatly.

"Recent history proves that radicals are willing to do terrible things if they think it will allow their side to win." said Cassandra, a chill danger entering her voice. The parallels with Anders and Kirkwall were impossible to ignore. Chantries getting blown up by magic, extremists on both sides determined to destroy all chances of peace…

"No, that isn't what I meant." Aaron said vehemently. "Of course, I would prefer peace from an ethical standpoint, but even assuming I wanted the mages to win and I was willing to commit an atrocity to make it happen, destroying the Conclave still wouldn't be logical. From what I could tell, both sides agreed the mages were losing the war. Destroying the Conclave would only make their chances of survival and concessions worse. I cannot remember what happened, but that's no reason to start believing I suddenly turned evil. Or stupid, for that matter."

Cassandra's estimation of Aaron's cunning rose, and with it, his level of threat. It was so easy to believe he was a dim-witted brute with his slow, deliberate manner of speech and his bizarrely selective ignorance, yet he had dismantled Cassandra's argument so precisely that she could not find fault in his logic. It was clear that Aaron chose every single word with exceeding care, and considered things from many different perspectives. Pinning him would be difficult.

Cassandra gathered her thoughts, and rallied. "That may be true, but you are an apostate. Pacifistic apostates do not last long, hated and pursued as they are. Templars are your enemy, whether you want them to be or not. Perhaps you were cornered by a zealot, felt threatened…"

"That does not apply to someone with abilities such as mine. I cannot be found unless I want to be, so I have no personal experience being hunted by templars. I bear them no particular love or hate, beyond my basic respect for their lives. Nor do I have strong feelings about the Chantry, for that matter. I know too little of them. Moreover, I don't see how a personal bias against templars would justify attacking the Conclave." Aaron stated calmly.

Cassandra felt strangely unbalanced, as if Aaron was egregiously deviating from the script she had heard so many other apostates and maleficar recite. She had heard maleficar rage and scream and cry at their captors. She had seen them lash out like cornered animals, choosing death at the templars' hands. She had heard them lie and proclaim they were devout Andrastians, standing falsely accused, who respected and honored the templars for their work. She had seen them repent, beg for mercy, swear to reform their ways. They did not express ambivalence towards templars and Chantry both, not that she had ever seen or heard of. The strangeness of it left her searching for a proper response. If nothing else, it made no strategic sense, unless he was trying to sound more sincere about his leanings than the mages who unconvincingly claimed loyalty. But that sort of ploy would be dangerous, as claiming to be an ignorant heathen would easily be taken as all but a declaration of guilt by most investigators.

"What would you have difficulty justifying such an action to? The Maker? The Qun? Or… Korth, I suppose?" Cassandra asked.

"To myself, of course," Aaron said, sounding somewhat offended. "Imagine yourself in my place. If many scores of innocent people were murdered and you had somehow survived the event, would you believe that you had killed all those people, just because you couldn't remember not doing it?"

The question caught Cassandra off guard. She actually hadn't thought of it that way, not even the slightest bit. "Of course not. But despite my abilities, I am not a mage. I am not dangerous in the way that you are dangerous."

Aaron lifted his head slightly, as if he were looking down his nose at her. "Solas was correct, I am no more capable of doing… that… than you are, mage or no. I don't even know how one would even accomplish such a thing."

Cassandra rested her arm on the barrel sitting next to her and drummed her fingers on it, thinking of how to proceed. Aaron stood by, his arms folded politely behind him, waiting for her response.

"That's assuming you're telling me the truth," Cassandra said. "I still have my doubts. It seems to me that while you may not have intended for any of this to happen, you bear more responsibility than you claim, and you are pretending not to remember to protect yourself."

Aaron shrugged. "Well, all I can say is that if there were a compelling justification—and I actually remembered it—I would tell you, because that would be my only extenuating circumstance."

Cassandra shook her head. He wasn't going to confess or change his story. Whether that meant he was successfully keeping track of his lies, or consistently telling the truth, was impossible to determine just by talking to him. "I have it on good authority that you only managed to remain conscious through this… this ordeal by using blood magic. Do you have an excuse for that as well?" she asked, not bothering to disguise her skepticism.

"That was not blood magic. Blood magic could have made my situation worse, actually, as it would further sap my vitality, which was already sorely taxed. I believe that my mana was being drained to preserve me, leaving me exhausted but keeping me alive. Entirely unconsciously, mind you, as I don't know any blood magic or healing magic. Even if I did, I wouldn't be able to use either to revive myself after I passed out those two times."

How terribly convenient, Cassandra thought. She had never heard of anyone doing such a thing unconsciously, but then again, magic and magic-users were enormously diverse. She couldn't point to any one thing he had said and expose it for a lie, but still, she got the impression that he was obfuscating something.

"And how is it you manage to keep disappearing? Teleportation shouldn't be possible for a single mage to do, not without thousands of blood sacrifices and half the Lyrium in the Tevinter Imperium. It must be some kind of trick. Or am I supposed to believe that you are just that powerful?" Cassandra asked, raising an eyebrow.

Aaron cocked his head, the movement making him look like a giant, shiny mantis. "What I do does not require that kind of power. My own skills with magic are rather crude, actually. Crude, but effective. It would be foolish for me to speak on my 'trick' any further, and fritter away my advantage. No offense, but the maximum number of people that can keep a secret is one."

Cassandra hadn't really expected him to answer the question, but his refusal still stung. Cassandra searched for a question which he was more likely to answer.

"Fine. Now, you claim to have come to the Conclave in search of Sister Leliana. But why come to the Conclave, specifically? Why not simply send her a letter?" Cassandra asked.

"It concerns matters I would rather not discuss with anyone other than Sister Leliana, or put in writing. I came to the Conclave because I suspected she'd be there, attending to the Divine. Otherwise, I did not know how to contact her. If I tried to reach her through other channels the Chantry, well... my vague requests for an audience would have been ignored, or would have drawn the wrong kind of attention, as you might imagine." Aaron said, with great reluctance. "Suffice to say, my original purpose would have been completely forgotten in the distraction that followed."

That answer did not suffice for Cassandra, in fact. She sat back, thinking through what she had heard. The only sound between them was the crackling of the torches. Usually she wouldn't let such pauses stand in an investigation—she liked to keep them talking—but Aaron was not a normal suspect.

"If you can't tell me why it is you are seeking out Leliana, then can you at least tell me more of yourself?" Cassandra asked, making it a request and not a demand. "Where are you from? What do you do? Are you a soldier, a mercenary of some sort?"

"I was born in Ferelden," Aaron replied cryptically. "But most of my life I spent in the Frostbacks, alone. I am something of an independent scholar, you see, and I spend most of my time exploring forgotten places and studying what I find there."

An independent scholar? For all that he chose his words with care, he could not have seemed less scholarly if he tried. And what kind of scholar didn't know about the very nation in which he lived, or its religion? The description sounded more like a looter or a grave-robber to Cassandra, but nonetheless she forced a thin, tight smile. "It seems I may have been wrong about your guilt, Aaron. But you can hardly blame me for being suspicious, after all of this."

Aaron waved a hand dismissively. "Of course I don't blame you. I would be the first to admit that I was the primary suspect, and my… circumspect manner can't have helped."

Cassandra smiled fully, then, partially in relief and partially to put him at ease. "Indeed, it occurs to me that I know practically nothing about you. Not your guilt or innocence, but you as a person. Maker's breath, I can't even tell if you're a hornless Qunari, or just a tall human under that armor! Would you take off your helmet, so we can talk face-to-face?"

Aaron seemed to withdraw deeper into the folds of his mantle. He gave a heavy, ragged sigh. "Seeker Pentaghast, I apologize, but I have no choice but to refuse."

Cassandra blinked. "What?"

"I truly am sorry, but my willing assistance is conditional on the specific details of my life remaining private." Aaron said, his words apologetic, but his tone hard and precise.

Cassandra felt like she had been smashed in the face by a maul. Her growing belief in Aaron's innocence was cast into utter confusion.

He knows that I know he is an apostate—what other reason could he have to hide who he is? What could possibly be so bad…? Is he a criminal? Is he involved in the Breach after all?

"Explain." Cassandra gritted through her teeth. "I am a Seeker of Truth. I have the ability to incapacitate a mage, to set the Lyrium in their blood aflame or bring down a Holy Smite. Do not make me test this power against you."

Aaron raised his hands in a gesture of peace, a gesture which was rather undercut by the threatening scar of dangerous magic on his hand and the cruel, spiked gauntlets he wore. "I am not here to fight, Cassandra. I regret the necessity, but if you try to force me to tell you about myself or remove my armor… then I will vanish again, and never come back."

Cassandra felt a sick sinking sensation as the words heralded her worst scenario coming to pass. Aaron knew the leverage he held was nearly absolute, he knew she couldn't press the issue without risking him disappearing—but still, Cassandra couldn't help herself. This was wrong. "You—how dare you?! Threatening the very world, just to keep your own secrets!?" Cassandra hissed.

"That is not what is happening here!" Aaron seethed. "I am not doing this just for my own sake! I have no choice! Seeker Cassandra, listen to me! I do not believe I had any part of this. I consider it extremely unlikely that my involvement this disaster is anything other than mere chance. If that estimation were to change, you will be the first to know."

"You expect me to leave that to your judgement?!" Cassandra demanded, coming to her feet.

"I expect you to leave it to Sister Leliana's judgement, and her discretion!" Aaron countered, his words coming faster. "All you need to know is this: if my origin becomes known and my mission fails, people will die. I cannot allow that. Never. Not even if you put me to the torch!"

Cassandra went still as her outrage was quenched by the cold chills of horror running down her spine. Aaron implicitly believed that being burned alive at Cassandra's hands was better than if she knew who he was. It was all but a confession of the worst, nameless suspicions she had about him, that he was hiding something other than the fact he was an apostate, which was bad enough already. But was he right? Would she destroy him to learn his secret, or destroy him when she discovered it?

Now that she had posed the question to herself, she realized the answer was no. She didn't destroy him when she had believed him guilty, and their need for his assistance hadn't changed.

Cassandra rubbed at her temples. "Just tell me what it is that you want. We are in no position to refuse, as you have no doubt gathered."

"Please understand, it is not my intent to blackmail you," Aaron said, sounding pained. "Truly, I only want to help, but in order to do that, my past must remain private. If Sister Leliana were to speak with me, alone, and she decided not to tell you what passed between us, would you abide by her choice?"

Cassandra actually had to stop and think before she answered that. "…The reason there is a separate Right Hand and Left Hand of the Divine is because we understand that some secrets must be kept, for the good of all. I would trust Leliana to make such a determination, yes. But I will only hear the answer from her."

"Then let it be. Is she nearby?" Aaron asked.

"Yes," Cassandra said, her threat suddenly very dry. "In fact, you met her already."

There was a short pause.

"The archer in mail?" Aaron ventured.

"Yes, that is she." Cassandra said, walking past him. "Stay here, and I will go fetch her. I am anxious to hear what she makes of you."

The one remaining bit of satisfaction that Cassandra took as she went back up the stone stairs was that Leliana was among the most terrifyingly intelligent people she had ever met. If Aaron was hiding something, Leliana would find it, if she didn't know already. Aaron's clever little ploys and evasions would only give her more hints and clues to follow. She would crush him like an insect, and then Cassandra would finally find out what Aaron was hiding.

After finding Leliana and sending her to talk with Aaron, Cassandra planted herself in a chair at the entrance to the stairs, guarding the two below and desperately wishing she could hear what they were talking about.

After a few minutes of massaging her headache and restlessly bouncing her legs, Cassandra set herself to imagining what Leliana would do with the information Cassandra had. Perhaps if she imagined what Leliana would do, she could see it for herself.

Cassandra reflected on what she had learned, all the evidence she had found. The most important clue, she was certain, was the fact that Aaron was a mage. That one fact would have dictated the course of his entire life, no matter how much he seemed to hide it or avoid the subject.

As a Seeker, she had seen mages fail in countless ways, regardless of their intentions. Seeking blood magic, demonic aid, or other ways to bolster their own power was only the most well-known reason they were dangerous. What was less well known, but perhaps just as common, were the mages who, in trying to hide or suppress their powers, also failed spectacularly. That was one of the primary reasons why the Chantry trained mages to control their powers in the Circle, rather than prohibiting them from practicing magic entirely.

Aaron, despite his protestations of being a scholar, dressed and comported himself as a warrior. It was all but certain that he had trained and fought with blades instead of magic, and had been trying to keep his identity hidden, possibly for years. Mages like Aaron who did not train or use their talents always ended up manifesting them in two ways. The first group became what were known as hedge mages, a term which was sometimes used interchangeably with apostates. This wasn't quite correct. Apostates had training, in the Circle or otherwise, and could control their magic. Hedge mages, by contrast, were people who had no training and had consequently manifested strange, often unique powers that were difficult to control. Crude but effective, as Aaron had called his own abilities.

The second group of untrained mages, of course, became abominations.

Cassandra needn't have read of Anders in The Tale of the Champion to know that abominations often looked and acted just like ordinary mages and people. She had seen it herself, many times—a possessed mage that looked human at a glance, but with a demonic true form hiding just beneath the surface. Often they had indications that they were possessed, such as altered voices, discolored skin, and inhuman eyes.

These were all features that Aaron could easily hide with a suit of armor… save for his voice, which was maddeningly on the very edge of being justifiably labeled unnatural. That alone was inconclusive.

But if Aaron knew to take such precautions, it would imply he hadn't been possessed at the Conclave. It implied that he knew he had been possessed all along, that he had taken precautions before he went to the Conclave, and that he may have been taken over by—

The epiphany hit her like a bolt of lightning.

What if Aaron had been telling the truth all along, that he really didn't remember what had happened at the Conclave? But what if it was because part of him literally didn't participate? According to Varric, Anders often hadn't remembered what Justice or Vengeance had done when they took over his body.

Now that Cassandra thought of it, the explanation made perfect sense. But what would she do about it? Even if Aaron was indeed an abomination, as seemed likely, that didn't change the fact that they needed his power to close the Breach.

Cassandra abruptly stood from her chair, but something stopped her from flinging the door open to confront the possible abomination that was down there, alone with Leliana. Why wasn't she going down there right now to rescue her?

Perhaps this is too hasty.

It was the seed of doubt which stayed her. It was still possible that Aaron was simply a hedge mage. It was still possible that she herself was biased, still trying to find a way to blame Aaron. If she went down there and accused Aaron of being an abomination… more likely than not, he would be gone.

And there was still one thing that him being an abomination would not explain: the vision at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, that nightmarish presence that Aaron seemed unprepared to face. There was more going on here than Cassandra could see, and she could not afford to leap to conclusions.

With a great effort of will, Cassandra sat back down.

Maker, please, at least let Leliana make sense of this. Cassandra silently prayed.

It was at that moment that the front doors of the chantry opened to admit a pair of templars and Chancellor Roderick Avignon, who instantly located Cassandra amidst the crowd. The little man began marching towards her in a towering rage, the look in his eyes promising dire imprecations, and much shouting.

Maker, why? Cassandra thought indignantly.

If Roderick was here, then that could only mean he was going to make a move to take control, as he'd been threatening to do over the last two days. She and Leliana might have to move forward with their nascent plans to declare an Inquisition. And considering the unbelievably delicate situation Leliana was currently managing, Cassandra might have to face Roderick and declare the Inquisition unilaterally.

"World-making Glory, how shall your children apology make?" Cassandra recited under her breath.

A/N

While Cassandra and Leliana play detective, external forces conspire to throw things into chaos. Next time, we get to see through Leliana and Roderick's eyes, and Aaron discloses what his true purpose is for reaching out to Leliana. As always, I challenge you to try to figure out the mysteries before they're revealed!