Chapter 9: Ambassador Pavus
Dorian stared at his surroundings for a moment, trying to place where he was and what he was doing here. The bed was large and soft and he was alone. The silk sheets felt strange and the sunlight streaming through the window was bright and direct-not reflected off of snowy mountain peaks. He rolled over, looking for an indentation or feeling for warmth that wasn't there. Yes, he was really awake, and yes, he was really alone in Tevinter with Theo hundreds of miles away.
He slid out of bed and padded across the marble tiled floor, feeling with his mana as he went. His layers of magical blocks and traps had held through the night, which either meant his Inquisition contingent was as excellent as Cullen and Leliana had promised, or that his father had kept his word. He would put all of the Inquisition's funds on the former.
He kept the magical blocks intact as he headed to the bathing chamber. The sun slanted through the high windows and a light breeze blew in the sheers. It was much later in the morning than Dorian would have liked, and he realized the large bed, and this even larger marble tub were wasted without Theo there to share them with. He sighed and slid into the warm water. Perfumed soap, fluffy, finely woven towels… Not that Skyhold didn't have these amenities. But there was something about the feeling and the warmth in the air that made him feel wistful.
By the time Dorian had dressed he was certain it was nearly noon, and the rumbling in his stomach confirmed it. He stood in the center of his spacious chambers a moment. Part of him wanted to just stay here, where he knew he could be relatively safe and alone. But then he remembered his father's smug grins and long-suffering sighs… and the way it felt to walk the streets of Minrathous once more, and he knew that staying in and pouting would do no good for himself, let alone his new position as an ambassador.
What did ambassadors do? He wondered this as he grabbed his staff and exited his rooms. He felt eyes on him: eyes watching from the Fade, eyes watching his back. No doubt Leliana's people, many of whom were capable of hiding in plain sight. He probably should have asked Josephine about it; but her daily routine of burying herself under stacks of paperwork and soothing disgruntled diplomats didn't seem to match what he was expected to do here.
Watch. Listen. Report. That was all he really needed to do.
His aimless wandering brought him to the cafe he'd had dinner at, so he decided to just have lunch there and plan his next steps.
He'd barely settled at an outdoor table and begun looking at the menu when someone called his name. "Dorian, darling!" He looked up, startled. Maevaris Tilani strode across the plaza, her heels clacking on the flagstones. She embraced Dorian and then held him at arm's length to inspect him. "Well. It appears the South hasn't disagreed with you too badly," she told him with a smile.
"No. In fact it has rather agreed with me in some senses," he told her with a smile, even as a pang jabbed in his heart when he thought of Theo. "Join me?"
She took the seat across from him. "You know the best places to eat, even after being away for so long."
"Halward and I dined here last night," Dorian explained.
"So you're an ambassador now," Maevaris said, rather than mince any more words on small talk. She'd always been able to cut to the chase whenever she took the Senate floor, and in such a pleasant and quick way that most of her opponents had to scramble to keep up with her. "How long will that last?"
Dorian shrugged. Maevaris was one of the few Magisters he trusted; well, as far as any of them could be trusted. "As long as it needs to. Ideally, not very long. I have business in the south I'd like to return to."
"I wonder how Trevelyan would feel being referred to as 'business'," she teased. She fixed her knowing blue eyes on Dorian, who merely smiled back at her.
"Rather than compromise my integrity as an ambassador by pointing out my obvious conflicts of interest, why don't you instead let me know what matters of interest have been going on in the Magisterium?" he asked her instead.
It made for a lovely afternoon, basking in the warm sun and nibbling on the delicacies the cafe served. Skyhold had never lacked for good cuisine, but Tevinter food eaten in Tevinter just tasted better: finer, more delicate and authentic. Maevaris regaled him with the latest gossip as well as news of the Senate floor. "Old Arborus died last year, too," she told him. "Not unexpected, but still a surprise. A pleasant one, it turns out."
Arborus had been a traditionalist. Much as his name suggested, he stood as still and firmly rooted as an old tree. But he hadn't been a terrible Magister, and while he seemed aware of the corruption that ran through the Magisterium, he didn't seem to have had a role in any of it. "He didn't have a successor, did he."
"That's where things get a little tricky, and where money can be used for good," Mae said, tearing off a strip of thin bread and dipping it into herbed oil. "You know as well as anyone that the Magisterium is rotting from the inside out. Better than most of us, really."
"I do, yes. What do you propose to do about it?"
"Some of us are forming our own sect to start dealing with it, one legislation at a time if that's what it takes." Maevaris leaned forward, elbows on the table and eyes sparkling and intense.
Dorian shook his head and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "I agreed to be an ambassador, and that's what I intend to do." She blinked and her eyes narrowed. "I love the Imperium. Desperately. But…"
Maevaris sat back. "You love him, too."
"Yes." Dorian rubbed his thumb against the underside of his wedding band. It was smooth and warm, and there was the subtlest buzz of magic woven into the metal. He sighed. "I'm no politician, Maevaris. I never wanted to be. I'm still as perplexed about this role as anybody else." He recalled what Theo had told him. "There's to be a council held in Orlais. And I intend to go, to report back as an ambassador, and to get back to the man I love."
"I'm not a stranger to love, darling," she told him, twisting the silverite and sapphire ring she wore on her left hand. "Nor of the pain that comes from loving the wrong man."
Dorian knew she meant 'wrong' as in, by Tevinter social standards. Her late husband, Thorold Tethras, had been a dwarf. And while he had been exceedingly wealthy, the union was still not what Tevinter high society considered proper. But still, the implication that Theo was wrong for him caused his mana to spike, and it was all he could do to keep himself from lashing out emotionally. "Thank you, Mae," he said, pasting a smile on his face. "I will keep that in mind."
Not like he had the choice not to.
Dorian and Maevaris parted ways; she had a meeting to attend, leaving him to wander Minrathous. He tried to think about the things Josephine did on a daily basis as the Inquisition's ambassador, but he had no piles of paperwork to sort through and worse: no Theo Trevelyan at whom to be annoyed.
The high market of Minrathous was relatively empty at this time of day, when the sun was highest and most respectable citizens were indoors either enjoying an afternoon nap or in a meeting of some sort. Dorian basked in the warm sun; it was different from the blistering heat of the Western Approach, which had been the warmest place (perhaps the only warm place) he'd traveled with the Inquisition.
He paused at a jeweler's stall. "Magister. You honor me," the man said with a bow, barely looking at Dorian.
Soporati then. Well to do, but not quite well enough to afford the exorbitant rent of an actual shop off the plaza. "I'm no Magister," he told the man with a smile. He looked over the man's wares. "You craft these yourself?" he asked, and the man nodded, still having trouble looking at him. Dorian suppressed a sigh. Yes, there was a time in his past when he wouldn't have noticed this behavior; it was just how things were in Minrathous. "You do lovely work," he said. He picked up a silver and peridot cloak brooch. The fine silver filigree wound around the impressively sized and nicely cut gem. "I'd like this," he said.
The jeweler took the brooch from Dorian and dug around for a velvet pouch. "You have fine taste, my lord," he said. "Your lady will be pleased."
Dorian grinned. "Not quite my lady. But I'm sure he will love it all the same. It's nearly the same color as his eyes."
The merchant blushed as he rattled off the total. Now he really had trouble looking at Dorian, who paid the cost without question and took the velvet parcel. He pocketed it and continued through the market until the stalls thinned out and the walkways converged onto a stone pavilion with a fountain in the center. Magic flowed through the stones and the fountain, a work of ancient dwarven engineering, bubbled high into the air.
He'd reached the Magisterium.
It was a sprawling building that rose up over just about every other building in Minrathous. Only the Chantry was higher, and even then not by much. The Chantry ruled in the south, but not the same here. Magic ruled in Tevinter, and even the architecture made that point. He entered the cooler vestibule and gave his eyes a moment to adjust.
Nothing had changed. The inlaid marble floors were still gleaming. The air still smelled of incense and dusty parchment, burnt candles and sweet sealing wax. The corridors stretched on either side of the huge double doors that led into the massive senate chamber. Two masked guards stood at attention: soporati templars from the feel of it, Dorian surmised. Guarding the senate chambers were really the only actual positions of power Tevinter templars held, and even then it was more for show. Nearly everything in Minrathous was for show these days. Dorian sighed and headed back to his apartment.
That night he tossed in the spacious bed, trying to find rest that wouldn't come. It was a warm night, as most in Minrathous were, and even though the bed had only silken sheets and a lightly woven blanket, it was too much. He was getting too soft, too southern, he thought as he kicked off the blankets. Back home… what was home anymore? Back in Skyhold, he often fought Theo for more of the blankets piled on their bed.
He climbed out of bed and padded, completely nude, across the marble floor and bend over the small polished writing desk.
Been here two days. Best thing about Tevinter: you're not here to steal the blankets, he wrote. He tapped the end of the quill against his lips before adding, worst thing about Tevinter: you're not here to steal the blankets. He folded it up and wrapped himself in a silk robe before making his way to the door and peeking out.
"Need assistance, Ambassador Pavus?" an Inquisition guard asked.
"Correspondence for the Inquisitor," Dorian told him. "Of utmost urgency," he added, suppressing a grin as he headed back to bed and attempted to sleep.
Maevaris was a consummate hostess, and her parties were usually the talk of Tevinter. Or, they were now, a few years after she'd notoriously helped Varric, King Alistair of Ferelden, and some pirate apprehend Aurelian Titus. Dorian had never known Titus, other than what his father had to say, and none of it was favorable. When Titus never returned from his Seheron excursion that year, it was one of the few times Halward seemed favorably disposed toward Maevaris.
Ever since, her parties were met with wariness and excitement.
Dorian didn't expect to have to fight off a dragon cult, and the Venatori had waned considerably since Corypheus's defeat. Pockets of the sect still held out in the Dales, Hissing Wastes, and probably remote corners of the Imperium, but it seemed that tonight would be relatively relaxed. Still, it didn't hurt to be prepared. He tucked a couple vials of lyrium into his belt pockets and waved his hand before his face. Reality disappeared as if it were a curtain being lifted, giving him a glimpse into the Fade,
They didn't show themselves at first, but Dorian sent out a gentle pulse of mana. I am here. Will you attend me? He asked. And then he caught faint shadows at the edges of his peripheral vision. He'd communed with spirits of death and darkness for more than half his life now and had come to rely on their subtle presences when he went into the most dangerous of situations. It was they who had reached out to spirits of healing to preserve his life in the fight against Corypheus. It was a relationship not many mages (especially those in the south) would understand, but one that was just part of who he was as a Necromancer mage.
The last time he'd been nervous before a party of any sort, not including his own wedding, had been the ball at Halamshiral. Enemies lurked in every corner, watching from the shadows. While he doubted Mae harbored any ill intent, there was no saying what her guests' feelings toward him and the Inquisition were.
This was his first official foray as an ambassador. The last several days had been little more than wandering around Minrathous, overhearing conversations and smiling at those who whispered when he passed. There had been no meetings and he'd not even seen or heard from his father at all-which was strange, since it was his father who had set this up. He wondered if he'd see Halward at Mae's this evening.
"Dorian, darling!" Mae exclaimed when he entered, before her staff could even announce his arrival. She was dressed in her signature sapphire blue. A high slit ran up the skirt to well above her knee. Her delicate silver-colored heels clacked on her marble floors. "I'm so glad you made it. I have some people I'd like you to meet."
Dorian followed her into the main room. Soft music wafted from a corner and the smell of food was in the air. Dorian, who was starving, grabbed a small piece of tapenade-topped toast from a passing server, and a glass of wine from another as he followed Maevaris. She nodded her greetings to her other guests, but did not pause to introduce Dorian until she'd reached the conservatory at the back of her residence. Here the sound of the music was faint and a table of hors d'oeuvres had been set up. Two servants stood behind a marble counter situated before a modest wine rack, and a group of a half dozen other people sat, talking, around a glass topped table.
"I take it this is the real party," Dorian said, glancing between his toast and his wine. "You should have told me so I wouldn't end up looking like a fool," he added pointedly.
"I didn't know how else to get you here and make this happen," Mae confessed. "Your father was able to have you named Tevinter's Ambassador to the Inquisition-"
"Funny. I thought I was the Inquisition's Ambassador to Tevinter."
She sighed. "Either way, you have no official duties, as you've probably seen. I know how you feel about the Imperium, Dorian. Moreover, you're not alone." She steered him toward the table, where the other people were casting furtive glances at him. "This is the start of the Lucerni Party," she announced.
Lucerni: light. It wasn't only cults of purists and eccentrics that threatened the Imperium, but the darkness of corruption. These six-seven, counting Mae-intended to stand up to the corruption and end it, one vote at a time? Dorian sighed and drained his wine glass. "Well then. I am Dorian Pavus, but you already knew that," he announced with a slight bow before taking a seat.
In addition to Maevaris, there was Marcus Philius; Samus Aventus; Petra Solanus; Maximus Decimus; and Lucrezia Aureos. "Pavus. You fought the Venatori close up," Philius began with an approving nod. "Word is you turned on Alexius himself."
"Is that the word," Dorian answered warily, holding up his glass for another serving of wine.
"We were there, almost all of us, when Felix gave his speech," Aventus said. "Lucrezia, she was sworn in only about a year ago."
Aureos. It wasn't a familiar name to Dorian. "Arborus's successor," he guessed, and Lucrezia nodded. She was quite young, with glossy, short dark hair and sharp golden brown eyes. He could see how she'd be drawn to Mae's cause. The others in the group he recognized, if only by name. None were of the Altus class, and all would have something to gain if their cause took off.
He filled a small plate with snacks and took a sip of wine. He had a feeling it would be a long evening. "So. What is a prodigal Altus son, barely tolerated by his own father, expected to do?"
"You have connections." Lucrezia tapped her fingers on the glass tabletop. "Connections none of us have. As an Altus, and as a member of the Inquisition."
"I hardly think the Magisterium approves of the Inquisition," Dorian said.
Lucrezia and the others nodded in agreement. "Some see it as a threat," Aventus said. He wiped his fingers on a silk napkin. "Most are faintly interested, but find other matters far more pressing. Like the Qunari. Seheron grows restless yet again." He took a sip of wine. "One of your companions is Qunari, yes?"
"The Iron Bull is hardly a typical Qunari, and he chose the path of the Tal-Vashoth," Dorian said. "And his loyalties lie with the Inquisition and whatever they're paying him. I may be an ambassador on their behalf, but I haven't come prepared to discuss what it would cost for you to hire the Chargers company," he told them. "Unless… are you trying to have me broker an alliance between the Lucerni and the Inquisition?"
Mae shook her head. "No. I know you're not in a position to do that. Lady Montilyet has been more than accommodating when she can be, and we agree it's not a prudent move for the Inquisition at this time."
Of course they were all in on this. Dorian hated missing variables in equations, and hated being used as a pawn even more. "What do you want of me, then?" he asked.
"Stay in Tevinter." Maevaris watched him with her deep blue eyes, taking in everything about him as he tried to find some sort of response.
"You were with the Inquisition. You fought Venatori and you helped defeat Corypheus," Lucrezia said, her eyes sparkling. "You may not be able to take your seat in the Magisterium as of yet, but if you start working with us, if you can be a voice of reason from someone who's been there…"
Dorian remembered the days when he'd had such passion. When he and Felix had stayed up late, excitedly planning all they could do if they were able to take seats in the Magisterium. Then the Venatori happened. Then Alexius joined them, and tried to entice Dorian to join as well. "Returning to the Imperium long-term was not in my immediate plans," he said at last. "And I have commitments," he added. "Besides, my potential to take over for my father is uncertain. Halward and I have never seen eye to eye and I'm sure he's not keen on his more liberal son sullying his mediocre legacy."
"You're not disinherited yet," Philius pointed out. "That you know of, at least."
That did bring a smile to Dorian's lips. "I'm sure he would tell me, that's true. Halward Pavus doesn't mince words." He sat back in his chair. "If you care to tell me your aims and means of accomplishing them, I can bring the news back to the Inquisition when I return."
When he returned. Not if. When.