As it turned out, when it came to the search for the keys, or the dress fittings, or any other part of the preparations for the Winter Palace, there was no such thing as getting it over with. Nearly every day, Fae was called back to have her sleeves altered, or her hems, or her neckline. Each package sent to her by Leliana was returned to be re-sold by the unscrupulous merchants which the spymaster had enlisted. Fae made notes on every memory she saw, few of them being of interest to Leliana. So far, none had given any indication that they were in use as enchanted keys.
And then there were the lessons, so that all the Inquisition guests might be familiar with at least the very basic rules of noble Orlesian etiquette; when to smile and agree, how to say what you want to say without directly saying it, how to behave when eating or drinking, the many specific honorifics which much be used to address the members of this elite class. And, most importantly when attending a ball, how to dance.
Monsieur Bourrée, a tall, lean man with a pale rose-coloured mask, its moustache painted white, had risen proudly to the challenge. His task would only be complete once every member of the Inquisition in attendance could master the cotillon, the quadrille, the menuet la volta, the Orlesian waltz, and the gentleman's own namesake the bourrée. Chosen for himself, of course; it was common practice for the most esteemed of artists in their fields to choose names that reflected their profession. This was to say nothing of his etiquette lessons; there was no smile that couldn't be more subtle, no gesture that couldn't be improved with a little more grace.
The Inquisitor was not able to attend every lesson, as she was due to depart for Emprise Du Lion soon, along with all those in her inner circle that could be spared, but she'd promised Josephine to give what lessons she could attend her best effort. That didn't stop her from dragging her feet on the way back from breakfast at the Herald's Rest on those mornings, however. She highly doubted Orlesian court dances in any way resembled the dances of her clan.
Varric also happened to be taking his time reaching the Great Hall, which was reserved for dance classes alone while they were being conducted. Both he and the Inquisitor met at the steps, and commiserated with each other. At least they were spared the awkwardness of being the last to arrive alone. When they arrived, the sight before them was not the elegant, austere atmosphere of a formal dance class they might have expected, but it certainly made more sense for this particular group of individuals.
Vivienne was expertly navigating Blackwall around the room, and while Blackwall's steps were clunky, he was managing to keep up. Monsieur Bourrée was fruitlessly attempting to explain himself to a confused Cole, while Dorian patiently tried to guide Cole's movements. Fae and Sera were paired together, humming jokingly along with the instrumental accompaniment Monsieur Bourrée had arranged. They were exaggerating the steps as they both snickered, both out of breath.
Cassandra was hiding her face in her palms in disbelief at the Iron Bull's steps, which resembled a tavern's jig more than a court dance. Solas was off to the side, leaning against the wall and clearly entertained by the entire spectacle.
"Well, at least we know where the image of elves frolicking in the forest comes from," Varric observed.
Ellethir rolled her eyes. "Of course we dance, but we don't frolic."
Sera tripped over Fae's foot and collapsed to the floor, giggling madly. The Iron Bull tapped Fae on the shoulder, and she turned to him, ready to try the dance again. Bull made a show of putting his arms in position to waltz, then he suddenly swept up Fae for a spin. Taken off-guard by the sudden lift, Fae squawked and lost her balance, flopping ungraciously on his shoulder, which prompted another round of cackling from her and Sera both as Iron Bull kept spinning.
"Well, they make dance lessons look fun, at least."
Varric smiled sadly. "Yeah."
Ellethir peered at Varric from the corner of her eye. "Is something wrong, Varric?"
"Nahhh," Varric grinned. "Just reminds me a bit of old times, that's all. I mean, don't get me wrong, our Fae was always a moody kid, but every now and again we'd manage to drag her out of her shell for a bit- play cards, join our drunken rendition of whatever the bard was playing at the Hanged Man. Remind her that fun exists. Still does."
"Ah, Inquisitor! And Master Tethras! Welcome," Monsieur Bourrée bowed deeply, along with his musicians. "You have come at a most fortuitous moment, we are about to change partners. Master Tethras, with Miss Sera if you please, and Your Worship, with Lady Pentaghast? Now," he looked at the parchment in his hand. "Seer Tabris, with Master Bull, Ser Blackwall with Lord Pavus, Master Cole with Madame de Fer, and- oh, my apologies, Master Solas, if you do not mind waiting again? Bien. From the closed position."
They began again, Cassandra leading Ellethir through the steps. The Inquisitor trod on Cassandra's feet several times, and she apologised each time despite Cassandra's reassurances. Ellethir was certain Monsieur Bourrée had noticed with his trained eye, but he offered her nothing but compliments. "You are a natural, Inquisitor! See how her hands move as if they were floating in water? Let us see you try as well, Lady Tabris…good… step step step jump! Pff, Monsieur Bull, the higher you lift her, the further down you have to lower her back to the ground and you simply do not have that much time within a single beat. Once again, if you please? Step step step jump! Toes pointed, hold her, hold her. Good, and down, apart, together, closed position, and go! Un, deux, trois. Un, deux, trois."
It was hours before Monsieur Bourrée released them, allowing everyone to go and eat, or bathe, or swoon dramatically and declare that they've died of dancing (Sera.) Ellethir jogged to catch up with Fae, leaving Sera to her dramatics.
"Any luck with the keys?"
Fae shook her head. "Nope. I've got a couple more packages waiting for me after lunch, but I'm starting to wonder whether we're pushing this plan too far. Someone at the palace is going to notice this many things going missing eventually, even if they all end up being bought back on the black market. And I'll have even less time to work on it when we leave for Emprise Du Lion."
"That's what I wanted to talk about, actually. You'll be staying here until the ball."
"What?" Fae stopped in her tracks. "Why?"
Ellethir felt a pang of guilt for Fae's hurt look. "Because you're exhausted, Fae. You've been taking requests for Seeing on top of everything else right now. From now on, your one job is identifying those keys."
Fae scowled. "Everyone is exhausted, lethallan. You're the one shouldering everything, why should I get to take a step back? Besides, with all the practise I've had over the last year, my visions are actually much easier to control nowadays."
"Even if it takes less effort, I know that what you've being seeing is…emotionally heavy," Ellethir linked her arm through Fae's. "Cole recounts them to me, in his way. Sometimes. When he feels what you feel."
Fae focused her gaze on the Herald's Rest sign nearby, but she didn't deny it. The latest vision came from a small, lyrium-lined jewellery box, still spattered with blood. The servant had been sent to retrieve it had covered his mouth with his sleeve, coughing on the smoke coming from a nearby fire. There had been a constant dull roar in the distance, a combination of many shouting voices, both inside and outside the palace. The last thing the servant had heard was his own gasp just before his vision went black.
"I have to see them," Fae insisted, voice numb. "I could see something that might help us."
"There's nothing that could help us more than having you here, Fae, with your focus intact."
Fae shrugged. "I wish that was true."
"It is true. I need you at your best for what we're about to do. So, from now on, apart from working on finding the key, you are to rest, by order of the Inquisitor," Ellethir patted her shoulder.
"I do rest," Fae mumbled sulkily.
"Don't lie to the Inquisitor."
Fae tried switching tack. "Lethallaaannn."
Ellethir wasn't having any of it. "Don't 'lethallaaannn' me. Go, rest. I'll have someone bring you some dinner."
Fae sighed, defeated. "Ugh, fine."
Returning to her room, Fae saw that someone had already re-lit the fire in the fireplace for the evening. It crackled comfortingly as Fae drew a tiny bit from it and used it to light a few candles. Instead of sitting down at her desk to look at the packages as she usually did, she grabbed them and went to her bed, flopping down on her side to inspect them. The first one was a little unopened bottle of perfume, nothing to see there.
The second one triggered a vision of a love affair between what looked like an unmasked nobleman and a human maid that was so explicit it made Fae blush deep red as she dropped the embroidered handkerchief that had delivered the scene.
The third object felt heavy, and she unwrapped it more carefully this time. It was a carved onyx statuette of a halla, standing on a matching base which was bordered with gold motifs of prophet's laurel leaves. It was beautiful, but an odd decoration to be found in a palace. Perhaps it simply meant to serve as a symbol of the Dales.
Fae picked it up.
A masked elven servant girl held the halla statuette to a door with a shaking hand, fitting it into the groove of a much larger circular design. Starting from the groove, the symbol lit up in a soft blue colour, briefly illuminating the whole door before it faded. The servant squinted as she nudged the door open, evidently not expecting a darkened room. "You asked to see me, madame?" she asked, voice wobbling.
The servant gasped as a spray of blood crossed in front of her, and then the servant herself fell. Fae returned from the vision suddenly with a jolt, as if she had been the one falling. She sat up quickly. The sudden, unexpected murder she'd just witnessed would have to be processed later. Right now, she needed to inform Leliana that it had worked. They had their key.