The Hall of Heroes was fairly empty, save for the statues so tall that even their bases were half a foot taller than Ellethir. The door down the stairs would lead to the servants' quarters, if she recalled the floorplan correctly, and the roped-off door they had just passed would be the Trophy Room, with the mounted head of a bronto above it leaving no room for confusion there.
By the door leading to the guest wing, two elven servants were clearing away abandoned champagne glasses from a table.
"They might know something," Ellethir whispered, striding up to them.
"Inquisitor, wait—" Fae missed Ellethir's elbow. Too late.
"Excuse me, would you know—?"
The servants turned around. "We're not serving drinks," one of them snapped. "Go and bother someone else."
"Sorry, sorry," Fae apologised, steering Ellethir through the door to the guest wing and whisking them both out of the servants' sight.
"They hate us," Ellethir whispered, genuinely surprised, and a little hurt. Most of the non-Dalish elves she'd met so far had treated her at best with reverence, at worst indifference.
"Look at how we're dressed," Fae whispered back. "Of course they hate us, they probably think we think we're above them."
"If they're not going to help us, why are we still staying here?"
"We're eavesdropping, lethallan."
"Oh. Right." It was like walking through Hightown with Merrill all over again.
"…left the package in the upper room."
"The grand library?"
"No, the small one, just above the garden."
"That package could be anything," Ellethir whispered, and Fae wordlessly put a finger to her lips.
"The storage room?"
"The storage room. Briala said it will be unlocked."
Fae noticed eyes on them, giggled, and covered her mouth with her hand to whisper into Ellethir's ear. "Gasp like I just told you something scandalous, people are watching."
Ellethir gasped. "No!"
Fae laughed, genuinely this time. "That'll do."
Ellethir dropped her whisper, but kept her voice low. "So, we go to the guest garden. But the library above and everything around it is off-limits, the stairs will be roped-off."
Fae shrugged. "We'll think of something. Dorian is stationed in the garden, he might have an idea."
Aside from the ballroom itself, the guest wing was the busiest area. It was an L-shaped hall with doors on one side which opened to private outdoor balconies, and on the other side, alcoves held small, private galleries for more exclusive gossip. The door in the centre of the hallway was slightly bigger, leading to a balcony garden, as the rose above the door's crest signified. Solas was standing by this door, champagne glass in hand and smiling contentedly, which was an odd look on his usually sombre face.
"Oh good, Solas," Ellethir said, relieved. "Let's go and talk to him first. What is that hat he's wearing?"
"No idea," Fae shrugged. "To be honest, I was too afraid to ask. It's probably a hat of prayer or something and was very important to ancient elves."
Solas looked over to them, and doffed said hat.
"Well, well. The Inquisitor. Here as guest of my nephew, no less…" An elderly man squinted at Ellethir through his mask. One arm was leaning on his cane, and the other he offered to her. Ellethir took it, allowing him to guide her to one of the galleries. "The Grand Duke is your nephew?"
The man sighed heavily. "He is my brother's eldest boy. Always a difficult child…"
Fae hung back, placing herself beside Solas. "Enjoying yourself, Solas?"
"Very much so. It is much more interesting to watch an event like this in person than from the Fade. The heady blend of power, intrigue, danger and sex that permeates the air at events like these, I adore it."
"Solas!" Fae laughed, feigning shock. "I thought you'd be above power and intrigue, let alone danger and sex."
Solas laughed. "I apologise if my words embarrass you, da'len. But it's true, I've seen countless such spectacles through my journeys in the Fade. I feel practically at home here."
"Well, we are standing where it would have been." They stood and watched the crowd mingle for a while. Ellethir returned from the alcove, only to be drawn immediately into another conversation with a man not dressed finely enough to be a noble, but too finely to be a palace servant.
"Solas?"
"Yes?"
"Was Elvhenan as beautiful as this? The city of Arlathan, I mean."
"Even more beautiful, and more terrible."
Fae stole a sideways glance. "More terrible?"
"It was an empire. Everything and everyone was more beautiful, and more terrible."
"Oh." Fae let the conversation lull into contemplative silence while they watched Ellethir win over her latest companion.
Solas watched Fae's expression go distant. "I'm sorry, I did not intend to cause offence a second time."
"Not at all. It figures, doesn't it?" Fae brushed off the apology with a brief smile.
"How so?"
"In my experience, even though it's limited compared to yours, if something seems too good to be true, it usually is. Same goes for people. We both know the Dalish don't see us flat-ears the same, but people in the alienages dream of running away with the Dalish. Who knows what the ancient elves would make of either of us."
Solas said nothing, and Fae felt a rush of guilt, like she'd misspoken. "I mean, we might look like they did, but we aren't them. I'm not even Dalish- not fully Dalish, anyway, which may as well mean not at all to the Dalish," she rambled on. "It's just…more optimistic, to look at our lives as elves now and dream of magical elven cities… You take the 'dreaming' part more literally, though."
Solas chuckled, to Fae's relief. "Yes. I could show you how, the next time we come across some ancient ruins, if you like."
Ellethir finally peeled herself away from her new friend, hurrying towards Solas and Fae.
"I appreciate the offer, Solas, but I wouldn't want to make our Inquisitor jealous," Fae winked, offering an arm to Ellethir, who clung on as if for dear life.
"Gaspard is more desperate than we realised," Ellethir explained hurriedly. "The Council of Heralds has always taken Celene's side, that's how she took the throne in the first place, and Gaspard still officially has enough nobles on his side to give him a fighting chance, but now he's threatening to burn the Council members in their homes."
"That does sound desperate," Solas agreed. "And foolish. Odd, considering the Grand Duke is known for his reasonable temperament."
Ellethir considered. "You think Briala could be behind the threats? To make Gaspard seem desperate?"
"Desperation is a sign of the losing side," Fae recounted from Monsieur Bourrée's lessons. "It's possible."
"Speaking of Ambassador Briala, I found this nearby." Solas produced a small cylinder from his coat pocket. Ellethir unfurled the paper within, scanned it, and handed it to Fae. It was a list of names; servants, their assignations, movements and times. Their last known whereabouts, it seemed. An addendum at the bottom read that something had gone wrong, and Briala needed to know back-up was needed.
"So, Briala's agents are being targeted," Ellethir fit the note back into its container. "That's unsurprising, but if this note made it all the way here, it's likely she already knows. Strange that she left it out in the open like that."
"Unless she didn't care if it was found," Fae pointed out. "Or rather, she wanted it to be found."
"You think she left it out for us to find on purpose? Anyone could have picked it up."
"Just weighing all the possibilities."
"We'll weigh them all later, once we've found what we can. Oh, and before we go- Solas, you'll save a dance for me, won't you?"
"Of course!" Solas beamed. "But dancing with an apostate elf would win you few favours here. Perhaps when our business here is done?"
"I'm counting on it. Our business has been delayed long enough, Fae, let's go. I'll see you later, ma vhenan."
"Enjoy your hunt."
Fae waited until they'd entered the garden proper before poking Ellethir's shoulder. "Ma vhenan? Already?"
"It just feels nice to say," Ellethir brushed her off. "Now focus, where are the stairs to the balcony?"
The guest garden was a study of perfectly controlled nature. Short-cut grass stood in organised bunches between a floor of pale white cobblestones, each corner of the garden marked by a stone fountain sat atop a marble pillar. The crown jewel of the garden was the fountain at the far end, where a marble Andraste lay peacefully in the water, hands out in supplication. Several gold sovereigns already lay at the bottom of the fountain, tossed by passing nobles for good luck. On either side of the fountain, vines climbed through tall white trellises which stretched to the top of the balcony above. There was, however, no staircase leading to that upper balcony, where they needed to go.
Ellethir swore under her breath. "We can't get up this way, we'll have to find another entrance."
"No, we won't. I can just climb up the trellis."
"I think the nobles might notice if an elf in a full-length ballgown starts scaling the garden walls."
"I'll go invisible first."
"If you disappear before their eyes, they'll notice that too. Do you know where Cole is? He could make no one notice him if we send him to find the package."
"I haven't seen him tonight. I'll—" Fae was interrupted by three noblewomen descending on them at once, all dressed in identical ballgowns and masks.
"My lady Inquisitor!" The one in the middle called, curtsying in time with the ladies on either side of her. "May we have a word? It is very important. May I introduce Lady Couteau?"
Lady Couteau, on the left, curtsied again. "And Lady Colombe."
The one on the right curtsied, and introduced the one in the middle. "And of course, Lady Fleur."
"The empress has sent us with a message for you!" Lady Fleur announced.
Ellethir returned the curtsy. "I'm honoured to hear from Her Majesty. Would you mind fetching some refreshments, Faellathi?"
"Of course, Inquisitor." Fae curtsied as well and made her getaway, looking for drinks, Dorian, and a place to hide.
She spotted him quickly, as the only one wearing formal Tevinter robes, swaying lithely in tune to the bard's violin playing. He noticed her too, and bowed.
"Lady Seer," he greeted, toasting his glass to her. "Come to enjoy nature as the Maker intended? Speaking of divine intervention- if you are here, where is the Inquisitor?"
Fae glanced behind her, to where Ellethir was engaged with the matching ladies-in-waiting. "She's trapped."
Dorian followed her gaze, and chuckled. "So she is. Sacrificing herself to free you, how very Andrastian. Tell me, are you enjoying the festivities? It's quite tame out here, not even a gentlemen's row so far."
"We have a small problem- we need to get to the rooms above us, but as far as we can tell the only way up is by climbing. I can be invisible going up that lattice but I need a distraction to make sure no one notices my absence…or a moving lattice. Any ideas?"
Dorian glanced at the lattice, then to the bard, then to a row of doors on the other side of the garden, presumably where the gardening tools were kept.
"I do," he nodded. "You've certainly come to the right person, I've made it my life's work to be as distracting as possible." Dorian suddenly leaned down and gave Fae a quick peck on the cheek.
Fae's cheeks and the tips of her ears went red immediately. "What are you doing?!"
"Oh please, that would have barely passed for a greeting in Antiva," Dorian chuckled. "I do have a salacious reputation to uphold, you know."
Fae's eyes darted around frantically, noticing several onlookers looking their way. "I need eyes off me, not on me!" she whispered furiously.
"Trust the process, my dear," Dorian assured her. "Come along." He took her by the hand and led her to one of the doors, which was already unlocked. "Courtesy of Red Jenny's friends. As I understand it, they've set up dead drops all over the place."
He closed the door behind them and started messing up his hair, putting his robes a little out of order, while Fae stared at him, perplexed.
"In a few minutes, I'm going to go flirt shamelessly with that bard out there, and everyone will be too busy muttering about the depraved Tevinter to notice you," Dorian explained.
"What about the bard?"
"Juliette, one of Leliana's little birds. Plays a mean hand of Wicked Grace and not in the least bit interested in men. She'll know something's afoot, and I can explain it to her in full detail the next time she's clearing out my coin purse at the card table."
"You don't think this is overdoing it a bit?"
"As far as I know, there's no such thing as overdoing it in Orlais. Now hurry up, I have a performance to debut."
"You're a demon," Fae stuck her tongue out at him, and then closed her eyes, willing the Fade to wrap itself around her like a cool blanket. The strange heaviness lifted, and Fae took a moment to adjust to the strange sensation of not seeing her body, gown and all. "I'll see you later."
"Go on, and try not to spook the villagers," Dorian opened the door, robes appropriately dishevelled, hair mussed. He winked at the one or two nobles who noticed him. "Nature is all about the simple pleasures, is it not?"
Fae walked quickly to the lattice, wiped her hands on her skirt, and hoisted herself up. As she climbed, she experienced a strange wave of nostalgia for her days sneaking around Darktown, smuggling for Isabela. Halfway up, she suddenly become aware of the possibility of the lattice breaking under the weight of her gown, but she pushed it to the back of her mind and yanked herself up and over onto the balcony floor.
She revelled in her success for a few moments, and then remembered she could still be tripped over if a servant happened by, and clambered to her feet. The door in front of her had specks of blood on the frame, but it was still locked. Picking the lock could take time. She tried the door on the left at the end of the balcony, where blood had also been splashed across the tiles in front of it. With one arm gathering up her skirt, she tried this door. Unlocked!
Fae gasped sharply at the sight before her. Another storage room- random furnishings, paintings, paperwork had all been left here in an unorganised mess. Among them lay four still bodies; two men in Fereldan garb, mercenaries perhaps, and two Orlesian noblemen. One of the noblemen had a small, tightly wound scroll peeking out from his sleeve. Fae bent down and gingerly pried it free, apologising profusely as she did. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," she muttered, unfurling the scroll and reading it quickly.
'Celene,
We can discuss this like adults, can't we? We both know the weapon at Briala's disposal could not only turn the tide of our war, but every war. The empire must control it; I do not believe you disagree. She is now a greater threat to Orlais than anything else. If you and I work together, we can wrest control away from her. Do not deceive yourself that she will be open to negotiation or diplomacy. You know her better than anyone—you know that's impossible. Gaspard.'
A weapon that could turn the tide of every war would be dangerous in the wrong hands. Especially Venatori hands. The Inquisition would need to find out what this weapon was so it could ensure it wouldn't be used by Corypheus or Briala. All they knew about the ambassador so far was that she's been pulling strings to keep the civil war going. It was likely because of the Halamshiral Purge, that was the most obvious explanation, but there could be other reasons. If Briala knew Celene "better than anyone," that would definitely suggest they were more than mistress and servant. And negotiation would be out of the question if Briala was doing this for her fellow elves, and not only for her own personal vengeance. Ellethir and Leliana needed to see this. Now to try the locked door.
No such luck. As soon as Fae left the storage room, the first bell rang. Shit. No time to pick a lock, and definitely no time to climb back down the lattice. She tried the door on the other end of the balcony. A bronze plaque said it was La Petite Bibliothèque, whatever that meant. Hopefully it meant this room was not locked. To Fae's relief, it wasn't. But to her horror, it was only a small foyer with a couple of bookshelves, which led to another series of rooms.
She tried the one closest to her, and it opened readily, revealing a long library. Shelf after shelf of tomes of every kind, and large ornate desks with gold candlesticks ready for use. A room this big had to have multiple exits, right? It was the only option she had right now. Fae suddenly paused between two shelves. She was still invisible. It was time to drop the spell, she had to conserve her mana tonight. As the scraps of the Fade melted away, Fae found herself still trapped when she heard two voices on the other side of the bookshelf.
"Did we get confirmation of the missing agents?"
"Yes. Tell Briala we need a clean-up."
"I would if I could find her. I haven't seen her at all tonight."
"I'd best get back, I'm on duty in the vestibule."
"It's a foyer."
"It'll be my grave if I'm late."
The vestibule led to the ballroom. Fae waited to hear the closing of a door up ahead, and relaxed.
"Cullen is afraid."
She nearly jumped out of her skin at Cole's sudden appearance.
"They're hunting him, following fear. He shouldn't be here."
"Cole!" Fae sputtered. "Where have you been?! Maker, you nearly gave me a heart attack."
"A fallen fan can cut like a kiss. Don't touch me. They don't hear him. He needs help. You don't like him but you like helping."
"Alright! Alright, Cole. We'll go help Cullen."
"Thank you."