Chapter 10: All that Glitters
One lesson Theo had had to learn was how to carry himself as if he had a purpose. Walking confidently tended to result in less questions, which in turn allowed someone to access people and places he might not normally be able to. Dorian remembered sunny mornings in the gardens playing chess with Cullen, while watching Josephine and Leliana, and sometimes even the Iron Bull, coach Theo on how to stand, how to walk, even how to hold his head in order to keep people from questioning him. It wasn't merely enough to be the Inquisitor in name, or to hold out his marked hand: he had to hold himself in a way that commanded attention and respect.
It was a lesson Dorian had learned as a child, and something he never really gave much thought to. Though now, as he entered the Magisterium and climbed the stairs toward the galleries, he figured he hadn't lost his touch, as no one stopped him. He'd spent many senate sessions up here, watching his father or Alexius debate before the gathering. Maevaris's request the other night, that he remain in Tevinter in spite of his dedication to the Inquisition, weighed heavily on him.
The Senate was not in session, and the huge amphitheater was empty. Dorian settled in a seat overlooking the floor. Here, he and Felix had placed wagers on which Magisters would win, or would back down in a debate. Here they'd leaned against the railing, listening raptly as their fathers argued the future of Tevinter. Here, Dorian had thought he could maybe be the one to make the Imperium a better place. Then the Venatori happened; then Halward turned to blood magic.
He still dreamed of a better Tevinter. But he was no politician, and knew that his time away from the Imperium had changed him. He'd grown. He'd seen more of the world than the Imperium's narrow view had provided. He'd thought he couldn't stay away forever, but the moment Maevaris asked him to come back… he couldn't commit.
Not for the first time did he wish he had Theo here with him, sitting next to him, letting him ramble about his memories; attending soirees with him, listening to him bear his uncertainties in the darkness after a long day. All the things he'd done for Theo. He could come back to Tevinter and do what Maevaris asked-if he could have Theo at his side, encouraging him, loving him, being strong for him. And having Theo in Tevinter, openly by his side, was about as practical and realistic as peace on Seheron in his lifetime.
The door creaked behind him and he turned, ready to fire off a quip at whichever guard was going to tell him to leave. But instead it was Lucrezia Aureos. "Magister," he said, rising and bowing slightly.
"Ambassador," she said, returning the gesture. But she was smiling, and her eyes were bright and alert. "May I join you?"
Dorian nodded, and Lucrezia took a seat next to him. "I used to come up here when I was younger," he explained. "Watch the debates, consider my own views on policy. They've changed quite a bit in the time I've been away."
"I wasn't allowed through these doors until a few years ago," Lucrezia told him. She stared down over the rows of seats, to the podium in the center. "What's it like, Dorian?" she asked, and he quirked an eyebrow at her curiously. "You're an Altus. You're descended from one of the oldest bloodlines in the Imperium. You're guaranteed a seat in the Magisterium, and your voice will be heard, because of your blood and coin. And yet you don't want it." She turned her gaze on him. "What's it like, to have everything given to you, and turn your nose up at it?"
"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Dorian asked her, incredulous.
"Is that what you think you're doing?" Lucrezia asked him. She didn't look away, her gaze steady, almost challenging him. She had no fear. "You've been in the metaphorical trenches, Pavus. You've gotten things done. You know how much more you could do?" She stood suddenly. "Come with me."
Dorian rose, but warily. "You do realize I trust you as far as I can throw you." Lucrezia grinned, which did little for his confidence, but he followed her down the stairs anyway. It was more interesting than moping and lamenting and feeling out of place, which was how he'd been spending most of his days.
Lucrezia led him down winding staircases and into the cool darkness beneath the Magisterium. Dorian had heard rumors that there was a Deep Roads entrance down here, and if not that, at the very least entries into the vast catacombs that ran underneath Minrathous. She paused before a set of heavy, dark doors and pushed them open.
Veilfire torches lit a modest-sized arena with blue-green light. A few obsidian benches surrounded a sand pit. Lucrezia shrugged out of her over cloak and laid it on a bench. She hefted her staff in her hand. The crystal at the top pulsed with pale light and Dorian felt a noticeable chill. She stepped into the arena. "When was the last time you properly dueled, Ambassador?" she asked.
Dorian couldn't help but grin. "I've been on the battlefield more in the last two years than most Magisters will in their entire lives." He held up his hand and a ball of lightning coalesced at his fingertips.
"Is that your way of declining a challenge?" she asked, still smiling.
"You ask a lot of questions." Dorian released the lightning spell into the room. Lucrezia barely blinked as she threw up a shield to protect herself. "Circle trained?" he asked, stepping into the sand. It was soft beneath his boots, and magic seemed to flow up through his feet. Sanctioned dueling arenas such as this one often had lyrium ground up into the sand itself. She shook her head. "Privately tutored then. I never had much reason to converse with old Arborus."
"He was a decent fellow," Lucrezia said. She planted her staff in the sand and bowed. "And a good teacher."
Dorian followed suit. "I do hope so."
No sooner had he straightened his spine than Lucrezia had fired off a small cyclone of ice and snow at him. He reacted instantly, sending up both a shield of protection and a fireball from the end of his staff. The flames slammed into a wall of ice that sprang from the earth when Lucrezia swept the head of her staff across the sand.
Dorian took aim above her head, behind her ice wall, and cast a static cage. The electricity buzzed in the air and bright, white-violet light lit up the room like an unnatural storm. Dorian relied on his magic every day, and rarely thought about it when calling upon his mana; but the last time he'd truly stretched his abilities had been the Frostback excursion. As he and Lucrezia circled one another, firing off spell after spell, dodging small blizzards and gouts of flame, he realized just how good it felt to be casting like this again.
He dodged as she sent a fist-shaped boulder of rock in his direction, rolling in the sand and coming up to his feet in just enough time to shield himself from a mind blast. He held the barrier with his left hand. He held his staff in his right hand and slammed the butt of it into the sand, sending out a shockwave of electricity. Lucrezia nimbly spun out of the way. Doubtless she'd learned Orlesian and Tevinter ballroom dancing in addition to her spell training. Dorian approved. The Venatori mages had a similar finesse, being Tevinter and all; but the rebel mages of the south had been clunky and a bit unwieldy in their battle casting.
Lucrezia waved her staff and a ball of snow came flying at Dorian's head. He blocked it, but taking his eyes off of her for that one moment caused him to miss the way she traced a glyph in the air with her right hand. No sooner had he made the snow dissipate than she'd trapped him with a paralysis glyph.
He stood, rooted to the ground, unable to move or speak. Even breathing was difficult. Her glyph was quite good. He hadn't realized Arborus was such a glyph master.
She managed to keep her breathing even, though it was evident to them both that, had she not cast the paralysis glyph, he was the stronger mage. "You can't tell me you're happy down south, playing with mages who aren't allowed to even enjoy their talent," she said. "Or that you don't look over your shoulder for their templars when you're not with your beloved Inquisitor."
Dorian knew he was an anomaly down south, and his presence had been tolerated because of his proximity to Theo Trevelyan. That given their way, most templars would see him made Tranquil, or at least shipped back to Tevinter. At least at the beginning. Since Cassandra had taken over as Divine her new reforms for the Circle and its templars had been kinder-to both parties. But magic still made the average person uncomfortable. Dorian was secure enough in his abilities that he wouldn't live in fear.
He had a unique relationship with fear. One very few people knew about or could understand.
Lucrezia was watching him, waiting for an answer. She'd loosened the grip of the spell enough that he could speak. Rather than reply, he blinked into the Fade, where the spirits waited for him. It is but a duel between peers, he thought, and could feel the tension abate slightly. Though if you were so inclined to assist, I'd be grateful, he added. "Looking over my shoulder has never gotten me anywhere," he told her. He stared at one of the pillars behind her, as if to make a point.
She was a quick study, but she was young and passionate, and she met his challenge. She looked behind her, where misty dark violet spirits hovered over the sand, exuding sadness and fear and pain. Her cheeks blanched. The spirits joined together, forming the shape of a large skull with a bottomless stare that bored into her. Fear rolled off of it in waves of darkness. Dorian watched the spirits calmly. Slowly the hold of the glyph loosened. He could have broken it, but he waited until Lucrezia's fear had destroyed her concentration. Thank you; return, he thought, and the skull seemed to smile before fading into nothingness. Once more they were in the sandy arena, lit only by veilfire.
Dorian reached out a hand and Lucrezia had the grace to accept it. "I know what's over my shoulder, and I accept it and never wonder," he told her.
To his surprise she nodded and smiled. "I don't think I've ever seen magic like that."
"Necromancy. Very few people practice it. When I started in Vyrantium the only known Necromancer was well past seventy years of age, and viewed it as merely theoretical novelty rather than practical application." He paused to take a drink from the cool stone fountain near the exit of the arena. "May I inquire as to the purpose of this little duel?"
"I wanted to see how I match up against an Altus," she said with a shrug. He moved out of the way so she could drink as well. "Arborus was a good teacher, but again, more with the theory of things. He was a politician and a researcher first and foremost."
"Are you not also a politician?"
She grinned. "You do know why these duel rooms exist, right?" Dorian had to nod in concession. It didn't happen often, but arguments on the senate floor were known to end in challenges, with the losing party agreeing to change their vote. Lucrezia exited the arena. "You have to admit it probably felt good to be sparring again on your home territory."
Dorian very nearly launched into a lengthy diatribe of how magic use in Tevinter just felt better and more natural than anywhere else he'd ever been, and then he realized just how casual and un-timid Lucrezia was. "I was not expecting to duel," he answered instead. He didn't recall Arborus being quite that affable, that he could engage someone in casual conversation and discover weaknesses. He smiled. "Magister Aureos, I do appreciate you taking this time with me. But I really must inquire as to your motives. You no doubt are aware that, while you are a lovey woman, I prefer men, so that cannot be it."
Lucrezia nodded once. "You read people well, Ambassador. In truth, I thought it would be nice to give you something to do, since the Magisterium isn't in session, and you have yet to be summoned for any further meetings. And...I'd like to show you Minrathous, possibly as you've never seen it before."
Dorian had seen much of Minrathous; he'd lived here for several years, before leaving the Imperium. He knew its shops and markets and cafes, he knew the Chantry and the beggars and the quaint blocks of apartments where Magisters kept second homes while their families remained behind in whatever province they were from. He knew about the docks and dusty lower markets and cramped hovels, though he'd never had need to go there. He figured that was where Lucrezia was going to take him, and thanked the Maker for all the times he traversed Thedas in the mud with Theo.
They walked a few blocks away from the Magisterium, back through the markets and stalls and turned down a side street off the plaza where proper shops were set up. Lucrezia paused at a windowed shop with a sign that looked like a barrel hanging over the doorway. AUREOS had been emblazoned on the barrel in gold leaf. "Tell me, Ambassador, do you have a taste for whiskey?" she asked.
"I tend to prefer wine, though my palate is tempered toward harder spirits, so long as they're well made," he said. He followed her in. Sunlight slanted through the front window onto the wooden floors. The shop was warm and slightly humid, and the pungent scent of old wood permeated the air.
"Lu?" someone asked. A handsome man, probably about Theo's age, had appeared from around one of the large casks. He smiled, his dark curls flopping on his forehead, and his golden brown eyes sparkling. "And you brought a guest. You must be Ambassador Pavus. Hector Aureos, m'lord," he said with a slight bow, eyes cast down to the floor.
"My older brother," Lucrezia explained. "And this is the Aureos Distillery. We've been in the fine whiskey business for generations."
"You're Laetan," Dorian said.
"Took quite a bit of coin, and no small amount of our best reserve to get old Arborus to take on Lu," Hector said, beaming with pride. "Absolutely worth it, we all agree. Oh!" He dashed back to the counter and rummaged about. He pulled out a deep green velvet bag with Aureos Distillery embroidered on it and handed it to Dorian. "A bottle of our best, as a token of thanks to the Inquisition."
Dorian nodded his thanks as he took the bag. "This is the Minrathous you want me to see?" he asked Lucrezia. This was the upper market, and a purveyor of fine goods. When he thought about seeing how others lived, he remembered Halamshiral, and the refugees in the Hinterlands.
Lucrezia led him to a small table topped with hammered copper. The effect was rather artsy. Hector brought out two glasses and poured a small measure of whiskey from a decanter, then topped it with a bit of water from a copper pitcher. Lucrezia waved her hand over the tops of the glasses and chunks of ice appeared. "She's pretty handy to have around," Hector mentioned with a wink. "Her ice spells have given us a distinct advantage in the markets." He disappeared again around a barrel and out of sight.
"Minrathous is a big city," Lucrezia told him, taking a slow sip of her drink. Dorian followed suit. It was velvety smooth on his tongue and in spite of the ice, burned going down, but pleasantly so. He and Theo would definitely enjoy the bottle together. "There have always been the suffering poor. The beggar soporati. The struggling Laetans. Most end up as pages, if that. I was lucky I'm wealthy and my family could afford a sponsorship that would result in inheriting a seat." She swirled the glass around the tabletop. "Not all Laetan mages are so lucky. If the Tevinter Imperium is the land of magic, then all mages should have the opportunity to flourish."
Dorian sipped at his drink. He'd spent his youth in Tevinter taking magic for granted. He knew as an Altus, and a talented one at that, he was far more privileged than most, but hadn't thought much about it. He figured anyone who possessed magical skill would receive training. And yet Lucrezia's points did not surprise him. "It was my own youthful naivety that wanted to believe that magic truly ruled here," he said at last. He touched his glass with one finger and sent a tiny thread of cooling magic through it before taking another sip. "Perhaps we are not much better than our southern neighbors who also allow coin to rule over all."
Lucrezia smiled broadly, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "So you'll stay."
He shook his head. "I cannot make that promise right now, Magister," he told her. She was so young it was hard to remember that, politically, she ranked above him. "Though I will thank you for this drink, and for showing me that, for all Minrathous glitters, there's naught but dross below the surface."
Her smile faltered slightly and the light left her eyes. "Of course, Ambassador. I only ask that you consider our words and offers. The Lucerni party would do well to have you as an ally."
Definitely quite young, Dorian thought. She still had much to learn about schooling her emotions and expressions. While she'd been raised wealthy and had been afforded certain privileges, she'd not learned to play the political games the same way. Though perhaps that could be to her advantage. The Magisterium had done things the same way for so long. The world was changing, though. Perhaps the Magisterium needed to change with it.
"I will consider your offer," he told her at last. "I make no promises other than that."
Lucrezia relaxed ever so slightly and her lips quirked up in a slight smile. "That's a good start. I'll take it."