It was embarrassing how quickly he finished the bowl of stew, considering he didn't even like it. The meat and vegetables were mushy and indistinguishable from each other, and he feared it would give him the runs sooner or later. But for the relief it gave him, Solas considered it worth the risk.
The Seeker had a much harder time finishing hers. "Ugh," she said, sticking out her tongue. "I dread the day I would grow used to this."
"It is not so bad if you chase it with wine, I think," he said, eyeing the bottles on a shelf behind the Seeker.
"Tea can cleanse the palate faster." She then nodded at his half-empty cup.
"I detest the thing."
"I thought elves love tea."
"Some elves have taste, Seeker."
"Hm. A taste for wine, I suppose?"
"When it's available, yes. Whenever one can find a… misplaced bottle. Merchants tend not to part with good vintages to elves, not even at face value." He found the salt from the stew still tingling in his tongue so he drank some tea. And winced. "Not even for double the price."
The Seeker swallowed a mouthful of stew and once again wrinkled her nose at the bowl. Solas would have teased her for her persistence, but knew she would likely point out how he wolfed down his own bowl.
"How did you make money?" she asked.
"I did not. I bartered whatever I could."
"Then how did you know merchants won't sell you wine? For double the price?"
"I asked them, Seeker. I did not say I had the money to buy what they sold."
"Huh. You just wanted to prove they are prejudiced?"
"It helped me identify who I can barter with, in good faith."
It went on like that for the rest of the meal. She would ask questions and he would give an answer that approximated the truth. She would pick up on something innocuous he said, and he would wiggle his way out of it. It was the most mentally stimulating conversation he's had with a human recently. Possibly ever.
An elven servant came to clean up after them and brought freshly boiled water for steeping tea. Solas felt her staring, knowing the sight of an elf sharing supper with the woman who commanded the army was shocking and confusing. He was starting to get used to this reaction. There's a satisfaction to it sometimes, knowing they instinctively recognized that he was a different animal altogether, but not knowing what to do about it. Most of the time—like tonight—it just made him feel pathetic knowing he caused this.
I tried to free you, I tried to free all of us… He shook his head; it would be useless to apologize to someone whose understanding was as limited as their freedom.
"Tell me," said the Seeker, fingers steepled on the table. "How does one get magical instruction from spirits?"
He welcomed the change of topic. "Very theoretically, Seeker. Spirits are inherently magical, and different spirits find natural affinity to certain elements. But they never question their own nature, and it is a very rare spirit that ventures into that question."
"Explain theoretical."
"It's like asking you to explain how blood works in your body, or how your eyes take in the world while a blind man cannot. There are people with practical knowledge of it gained from experimentation, and they can teach practical knowledge about it. Mages in the Circle gain practical knowledge from their teachers, who learned it from generations of magical experimentation. But spirits do not have that kind of curiosity, and so can only speak in riddles. It takes time and patience, for both teacher and student, to connect theory and practice. After I learned a few basic spells in this manner, everything else opened up."
"And the spirits are willing to teach this? To you?"
"There are spirits that enjoy good company. Sometimes one only needs to pay them attention."
"You never met any that sought to possess you? Not one ?"
"There are persistent ones. I leave before they become… forceful."
"I don't know whether you are lying or just lucky."
He chuckled. He sipped tea and still found it bad, but it didn't look like the Seeker was going to offer him wine anytime soon. And he was thirsty. "I imagine this was the method by which the earliest mages learned magic."
"From spirits? I doubt it." She poured herself a fresh cup. "So what were you going to tell me? You surrendered and asked to see me. Here I am. Talk."
He set down the teacup. "The rift. The breach. I wish to study it. But I need to get close to the biggest one. I am skilled, but even I am not powerful enough to face the demons alone."
"And you wish to study it. Why ?"
"Wouldn't you wish to learn more about your enemy?"
"I do, but I don't see why an apostate would care. Especially not enough to risk imprisonment. Or death."
"The breach threatens all, Seeker. Humans are not the only ones with the capacity for heroism and sacrifice."
She regarded him for a moment.
"Very well. I detest heroics, especially by untrained fools. You don't sound like a fool but you are more dangerous than an untrained mage. 'Self-taught' is not reassuring, and neither is 'trained by spirits'. Allay this concern and then we can talk about the rest. You will only get one chance to prove you can use proper magic." She set down her cup. "Rest, apostate. Tomorrow you will be tested."
"What do you think?"
Leliana closed the door quietly behind her. The prisoner was already taken back to his cell, and the tea was now lukewarm and oversteeped. She wrinkled her nose at the leafy-bitter steam.
"He is definitely interesting," she answered, making a beeline to the shelves behind the oak table. "Surprisingly well-spoken. Surprisingly forthcoming. Combine that with his simple clothes and the few possessions he owned, he is definitely… surprising."
"You were right about having him questioned further. It's not just his timing that's suspicious."
"Yes, there's the coincidence with our Dalish survivor, too." She scanned the five bottles of wine. Shadows danced over the labels. "And there's something about him I cannot place…"
"That's why we don't trust the mysterious ones."
"Oh, I absolutely love the mysterious ones! They are the most delicious ones to solve."
Cassandra grunted. "They are dangerous."
"Bah! What's a little danger?" She picked up one of the bottles at random and shook it. About a quarter of it is still left. "That exorcism was a stroke of genius, by the way. Quick thinking!"
"Did you see his stance? He was ready to take it. I had to catch him unawares."
"Looked like someone with combat experience, no?"
"He did crumple like paper, quickly. It's not really impressive."
Leliana cradled the bottle of wine and draped herself over the armchair across the table from Cassandra. "He survived it. I think that's impressive."
Cassandra shrugged. "Anything else?"
"My agent is finishing up his sketch as we speak. I'll include it with the sketch of the Dalish woman. Our people will go knocking around as early as tomorrow. The basecamps, refugees, merchants… If these elves are working together, we'll have witnesses to prove it, soon."
"Good."
"Sit down, Cassandra!" she said cheerily as she pulled the cork off the bottle. "All this—" she gestured at Cassandra "—this pacing."
Cassandra grunted, picked up her tea, emptied it. "This is supposed to be calming me. Ugh."
"But he is peculiar, isn't he?" The bottle made a popping sound coming out of Leliana's mouth. Full-flavored vintage, cool to the mouth, warm all the way down just like she liked it. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he is a researcher or an academic. Or some noble with more than a passing interest in magic."
"Same impression I got. It was like speaking to a senior enchanter about some obscure topic on the arcane arts."
"Although…he was cagey about his background. Hmm. Do you think we need to send someone to check that village up north?"
"Not until we've interrogated the Dalish. What news?"
Leliana sighed. "Still touch and go. She might not make it."
Cassandra shrugged. "Neither could he. We'll find out more tomorrow."
