Rhys was leaving.
Cole had never spent so much time on the upper floors of the tower. The presence of so many templars made his heart race. As each one passed, it was all he could do to keep himself from pressing against the nearest wall and holding his breath, despite the unlikelihood they might see him. He still expected them to. Rhys could see him, after all, and there had been others . . . why not a templar? One day a hand would grab his shoulder, and he would turn around and see one staring back at him, full of questions.
What would he do then? Kill the man? Cole had drawn his blade on Rhys. He hadn’t meant to, but Rhys had meant his threat. Cole had betrayed his only friend in the world, and even if he’d only been trying to protect himself, that still left him feeling more alone than ever.
He found Rhys easily enough, but even though he was desperate to talk to the man, he lingered at a distance. What could he say, after all? Words had never been his strong point. Even if Rhys bothered to listen, Cole couldn’t imagine an argument that might sway the man. So instead he was forced to watch from afar, vacillating between fear and indecision.
He saw Rhys carrying a pack, accompanied by the freckled mage with the cloud of red hair. Where they were going, Cole had no idea, but everyone he overheard said they were leaving the tower. Going somewhere secret.
There was someone else going with them, too. A tall templar woman with black hair, the same one who had found Rhys in the crypts. He remembered her well. She’d stood not five feet away, her eyes falling right on him even though she never knew, before she finally turned away. He’d breathed a sigh of relief when she left.
Cole had seen her before. He thought of her only as Knight-Captain, for that’s what everyone else called her. They treated her with respect, which meant she was someone important.
So he followed Knight-Captain now, instead. Maybe she might say where Rhys was going, and if he was even coming back. That meant Cole would be spending more time in the templar levels of the tower than he ever had before. It left him feeling exposed, but what choice did he have?
Knight-Captain was busy. First she spent over an hour in the courtyard talking to one of her men, presumably about what he should be doing while she was gone. Cole barely listened, except to hear that she didn’t know how long she’d be gone. A week, perhaps.
Then she met with another woman, this one a templar as well, to discuss what “happened” in the great hall. Cole didn’t know what that was. He’d heard the commotion even from the lower levels, but curiosity alone hadn’t been enough to draw him up there. At the time he’d known only that Rhys was let out of his cell.
Before they’d taken Rhys away, Cole had sat in front of that cell for hours. He stared at the door, knowing Rhys was inside. He kept wondering if he should open it, if it would be better to talk to the man when there was nowhere he could go. But Rhys would have assumed Cole was going to kill him, wouldn’t he?
Cole couldn’t have taken that, seeing the same look in his friend’s eyes he’d seen in the others. He would rather die.
He followed Knight-Captain to various other places, and then finally to the upper floors, above where the mages lived. Cole shuddered as he walked up those stairs—this part of the tower he rarely came to at all. Everything had a stark, cold feel to it. Even the templars looked nervous when they came here.
He kept close to the woman, almost stepping on her heels when she stopped to open a door. Were these her bedchambers? Was this where important templars lived? Why would someone so important be going anywhere with Rhys? Was he in trouble? Was Cole the cause?
He longed to ask her. That’s what normal people did, and he vaguely remembered a life before he came to the tower, when even he could ask someone a question and expect to receive an answer. Now he was left to wonder, awash in a sea of silence broken only by Rhys’s infrequent visits. He always felt worse when Rhys left again; it made the silence that much harder to bear.
The templar walked into the room and Cole followed, slipping in just as she shut the door. It was indeed a bedchamber, if a small one. There wasn’t much inside save for a cot and an armoire that took up almost half the space. A small window peeked out onto the city below, and on its ledge sat a number of tiny figurines carved out of stone. Curious, he walked over and picked one up. It was a mottled grey, looking a little like a sitting wolf with baleful red gems in its eyes. Strange.
He put it back on the ledge, and the small tap from the contact was enough to make Knight-Captain spin around. Cole froze, cursing his stupidity. If he drew attention to himself, she might notice—just because she would forget later didn’t change the fact that she would see him now.
She had been undoing the leather straps on either side of her breastplate, and now paused midway. She looked around the room, brows knit in confusion. Cole felt a trickle of sweat rolling lazily down the side of his face. He wanted to run, but dared not. Then she would see him for sure. But if she took one step forward . . .
She didn’t. Frowning, the templar returned to the task of removing her armor. Cole let out a slow breath. That was close.
He quietly watched her undress. He’d seen naked flesh before: the mages when they coupled in the dark corners, for instance. He’d seen people bathe in the big metal tubs they filled with hot water, and wondered why they went to all that trouble when there were perfectly good pools in the Pit below. He used to watch the mages as well, fascinated with their daily routines, and that included when they changed their clothes and prepared for sleep. Eventually it lost its appeal. It made him feel like a child pressing his face up against a window, peering into a warm and cozy room he could never enter.
Knight-Captain removed her armor in pieces. The bulky breastplate first, then the shoulder guards, then the braces on her forearms. As soon as she kicked off her metal boots she was down to her sweat-stained tunic. Why would the templars walk around in so much metal, day in and day out? Did they really expect they’d be called into battle at a moment’s notice? Against people who didn’t even wear armor? Yet another question he could never ask anyone.
She sighed in relief as she pulled the tunic over her head. There was a small nightstand by her bed, on top of which was a bowl of water. She punctured the thin layer of ice that floated on its surface, and wet a cloth to wipe herself down. Cole noticed numerous scars on her muscular body, and wondered how she came to get them.
The woman finished washing and opened the armoire, slipping on a new tunic. Cole noticed her eyes lingering on something else within. She slowly took out a book, a dusty tome with the sunburst symbol embossed on its leather cover. What it might be, Cole couldn’t imagine. The leather looked so worn and cracked, it seemed like it might crumble at her touch.
Knight-Captain handled it carefully. She ran a finger along the cover, her face softening with a look that was both gentle and sad. The binding protested loudly, and she inhaled the smell of the book’s yellowed parchment.
Cole didn’t understand. What was so special about a book? The archives in the lower levels were full of so many, some far older than this one. They did little more than collect dust, and held no interest for him or anyone.
There was a firm knock on the door, and both of them jumped. Knight-Captain snapped the book shut, and quickly replaced it in the armoire. “Yes?” she called out. Her voice sounded a little odd—like there was a lump in her throat.
There was no response, but the door opened and a man entered.
Not just any man. This one wore dark armor with a strange insignia on his breastplate, and carried himself with a force of presence that left no doubt he was in command. There was an angular cruelty to his face that put Cole immediately on edge. But it was more than that. There was something about him that spoke to Cole like a dark whisper. This man had power, something completely different from the other templars.
Cole had never seen him before, and was immediately terrified.
“Lord Seeker Lambert,” Knight-Captain spluttered. “I could have come to your office. There was no need for you to—”
The man held up a hand. His eyes did not look at her, but instead searched the room. They narrowed in suspicion, as if he had suddenly sensed something amiss.
Then Cole realized it. He’s looking for me. He backed as far into the corner as he could, hiding behind the open armoire. Even that movement drew the Lord Seeker’s attention. He stared in Cole’s direction, not quite fixing on him . . . but the man knew something was there. He seemed like a grizzled mouser sensing its prey nearby, waiting for the moment to pounce and deliver the killing blow.
“There is something wrong,” the Lord Seeker announced.
That seemed to alarm Knight-Captain. She sped across the room to where she’d lain her armor, grabbing up her sword from its sheath. She held it ready, and scanned the room for an enemy. Her gaze passed right over Cole.
The man barely noticed her. “What were you doing before I arrived?” he asked.
“Changing out of my armor.”
“Nothing else?”
“Nothing important, my lord.”
Cole held his breath. Just when he was certain the man was going to walk over to the corner and grab him by the neck, the man lowered his hand. Scowling in displeasure, he looked toward Knight-Captain. “This tower has set me on edge. I thought I felt . . . well, never mind that.”
She lowered her blade, looking unconvinced. “Is there something you wished, Lord Seeker?”
“Yes.” He closed the door behind him. Then he took something out of a belt pouch—it was a small bundle, wrapped in purple cloth. The woman took it, and when she opened the bundle it revealed a trio of tiny glass vials. Each held a small amount of liquid, glowing vividly blue. Cole felt the familiar tickle of magic.
Knight-Captain seemed to know what they were. She frowned, though, as if this was not a particularly welcomed gift, and quickly wrapped the vials back up. “Thank you, Lord Seeker,” she said, “but you didn’t have to bring me these personally.”
“No.” He stroked his chin, considering his words carefully as the silence grew tense. “What I have to say to you cannot leave this room.”
“I see.”
“I sent word to the Grand Cathedral. I don’t know how Enchanter Wynne was able to procure such outlandish privileges from the Divine, but she told the truth.”
Her brow furrowed. “And . . . that is a good thing, yes?”
“It means we proceed as before.” The Lord Seeker clasped his hands behind his back and paced. Cole thought he looked troubled. “I have a suspicion, however, that the Divine is unaware of the full implications of this mage’s mission.”
“Implications?”
“It could be nothing. Enchanter Wynne’s suspicions about this Tranquil could be incorrect, or the circumstances so bizarre they could never be repeated.” He stopped pacing. “But if it’s not, if he has been restored somehow and the Rite of Tranquility is proven to have any weakness . . .”
Knight-Captain paled. “Is such a thing possible?”
“I said no and I believe that.” The Lord Seeker glanced out the window, shaking his head in disgust. “But I am also old enough to know that the impossible can and will occur when magic is involved. If this mage discovers any possibility that Tranquility can be reversed, I want you to ensure it never reaches any other ears.”
She opened her mouth to speak, then reconsidered. After a moment she tried again. “And how do you propose I accomplish that, Lord Seeker? I will be traveling with three mages, none of them weak in power.”
The man walked over to her, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking her straight in the eyes. His gaze was grim and intense. “You know what the Rite of Tranquility entails. It could hardly be called a kindness, but it spares mages too weak to resist the lure of demons from a more permanent alternative. If the mages of the Circle believed it was possible to escape Tranquility, whether it was safe or even wise to do so, we would have chaos.” He squeezed her shoulders. “I am relying on you to do what you must, Ser Evangeline, in the name of peace and order. Of all the decisions Knight-Commander Eron made when he led the White Spire, it is clear that your promotion was his wisest.”
Evangeline—for that was surely her name, Cole realized—straightened and set her jaw firmly. “Thank you, my lord.” She nodded. “I will see it done, if it comes to that.”
“Pray that it doesn’t.”
With that, the Lord Seeker walked out of the room. When the door closed behind him, Evangeline relaxed. She leaned against the cot, her legs looking like they might give out from under her. She tossed the purple bundle to the side and exhaled a long breath.
Cole shivered in the corner. He was relieved the frightening man was gone, but now he was torn. If he understood what had transpired, was Rhys in danger? His first impulse was to immediately find Rhys and tell him. But what if Cole was wrong? What if Rhys didn’t believe him?
What was he going to do?
Rhys inhaled the fresh air, and found it far sweeter than he remembered.
They were finally out of Val Royeaux with its teeming crowds, its buckets of slop being thrown out of windows, and its ever-present stench of horse manure and fish. The guards at the city gate had given their group a sidelong stare: three mages, noticeable due to their staves even if they were in traveling clothes, and a templar in full armor. It clearly wasn’t something these men saw every day, despite garrisoning a city that held the White Spire. They were so eager to let the group pass, they barely issued any challenge.
He’d forgotten what it was like to be not only out of the tower, but out of the city. Occasionally, the mages would be escorted somewhere by the templars, if their magic was required, but this was different. Rhys felt liberated. He admired the mighty oak trees lining the road, their leaves shades of yellow and burnt orange in the late autumn. He smiled at passing merchant wagons even if the drivers avoided looking at him. He laughed when a group of children assembled by the road, shouting out for petit alms. It was an Orlesian tradition, after all, and Rhys wished he had coins to throw them.
Adrian was far less enthusiastic. She sat behind him on the horse, her arms clutched tightly around his chest, speaking only to complain about the chill and her sore backside. She would never admit it, but Rhys knew she was afraid of horses. The leery look she’d given the beast outside the tower had been vastly amusing. She would cope, he was certain, but only out of sheer determination.
Evangeline remained quiet as well. She did not even look when they passed a village just off the road where lively music could be heard playing. People were dancing in the village square, a trio of elves playing harpsichords on a wooden stage. When Rhys wondered out loud if they might see what was going on, the templar dourly reminded him they were not traveling for pleasure. For the most part, she kept her eyes on the road ahead, her scarlet cloak fluttering in the crisp breeze, and attempted no conversation.
Then there was Wynne.
The old mage lagged behind the others; even when Evangeline pointedly mentioned they needed to make better time, she merely smiled and kept her steed at its easy pace. Wynne had wrapped a heavy shawl around her blue robes, and seemed content to pick through her packs and read while there was still daylight. When Evangeline attempted to ask her more questions about their mission, Wynne’s responses were vague. Eventually, the templar gave up.
If there was any presence that could dampen Rhys’s spirits, it was Wynne’s. He imagined he should be grateful she had gotten him out of the tower, but that almost made it more galling. It nipped at the edges of his consciousness, reducing his initial joy until he was almost as quiet as the others.
Finally, Evangeline called for a halt at the first highway inn they reached. Such buildings were fairly common on the major roads, especially in the Heartlands. They were fortified stone structures with blue slate roofs easily recognizable from a distance, designed to offer safe shelter to merchants and travelers. This one seemed in good shape, the Imperial crest hanging outside its gate kept polished and the courtyard inside teeming with horses and wagons.
Evangeline didn’t seem eager to go inside, but they needed traveling supplies they couldn’t acquire at the tower. Adrian declared that she would join the templar, although Rhys knew it wasn’t out of any desire of Adrian’s to keep her company. She wanted off the horse.
So he was left alone outside with Wynne. The two of them sat on their horses just outside the gate, the only sound a gust of wind that rushed through the nearby trees. A pair of shutters on one of the inn’s upper windows repeatedly flew open and slammed shut again.
Wynne closed her book and sighed. She was pretending not to notice Rhys staring at her, and looked speculatively up at the clouds. “It might snow,” she commented. “That would be rather early, wouldn’t it?”
“It would.”
Her enigmatic smile faded into a frown. “Very well, Rhys,” she sighed. “If you have something to ask, now would certainly be the time.”
“You got it.” He turned in his saddle to face her directly. “Why am I here?”
“I told you my mission.”
“But not why you need me on it,” he snapped. “And don’t feed me that line about being a spirit medium. You’re as skilled with spirits as I am, if not more.”
“Very possibly.”
“You need a mage or two to help you with the ritual to enter the Fade. It could have been any mage. So the only reason to ask for me is because . . .”
“Because you are my son,” she finished for him.
Rhys felt himself about to say something rude and barely bit it back. He had to look away. His eyes fell upon a little girl hiding in the bushes not ten feet away. She couldn’t have been more than eight years old, staring at the two of them with eyes as big as saucers. Staring at their staves, rather. Wasn’t it odd how children could be so fascinated by magic? It took them time and the lessons of the Chantry to learn real fear.
“Is that the reason, then?” he asked. “I didn’t even know about you until nearly ten years ago. You came after the Blight in Ferelden, and introduced yourself . . . and then I never saw you again.”
“I wanted to meet my son,” she said. “To see the man he had become without any guidance from me. I did that.”
“Then what is your interest now? You didn’t need me to come on this mission of yours. You didn’t even need to come to the White Spire. Yet you did.”
“I didn’t come to the White Spire seeking you out, Rhys. It was the closest tower at hand after I met with the Divine.” She pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders, staring in the direction of the inn’s gate as if hoping Evangeline and Adrian would appear. “When I arrived, I was told you’d been thrown in the dungeons—the prime suspect in a murder investigation conducted by the Seekers of Truth.” Then she looked at him, her eyes hard. “Ten years ago I found a man who needed nothing from me. That is no longer true.”
“I don’t need your help,” he growled. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“According to the templars you’ve done everything to convince them otherwise.” She snorted derisively. “And you’ve mixed yourself up with the Libertarians, as well. I assumed you had more sense.”
“Not every mage is interested in rolling over and playing dead like a well-trained mabari hound. We’re not children, yet the templars treat us like we are.”
“Because many of you act like you are.”
“Is that what you think?” He felt the anger rising inside him again, and this time didn’t try to fight it. “The mighty archmage lectures us on responsibility? Do you even remember what it was like to live in a tower, or ever consider what it must be like for those of us who still do? After the rebellion in Kirkwall—”
“Must we repeat this argument?” she interrupted.
“I suppose not. What’s the point?” They remained there in their saddles, saying nothing as the wind howled overhead. The Imperial sign squeaked as it slowly swung back and forth on its post. It felt cold. Wynne felt cold. There was a wall between them built of all the things left unsaid, things he had been storing up in the years since he’d met her. He felt it growing larger, now.
The little girl let out a squeak of terror and burst from her hiding place in the bushes. She sped off into the distance, as if she was being chased. Neither of them watched her go, frozen as they were in their tense silence.
“Why did you help me at all, then?” he finally asked.
“Is that important?”
“It is to me.”
“If I had known this was how you would react,” she sighed, “then perhaps I would have left you in your cell. Perhaps that is where you belong.”
That stung. He didn’t know how to respond, so he just shook his head. “You’ve changed,” he muttered.
“You don’t know me well enough to say that.”
“I remember the woman I met ten years ago,” he said. “I assumed I’d come from a family in Ferelden, and had just been taken too young to remember them. All my life I’d wondered who my mother was, and then she appeared out of nowhere. She was this warm, kind woman—and she was a hero. That she was my mother made me proud.”
Wynne said nothing, her eyes remaining fixed on some faraway place.
“That woman told me she was relieved we’d finally met. She told me she would return . . . and I never saw her again. I still wonder what happened to her.”
“I am right here,” she said stiffly.
“The woman I met wouldn’t have stood in the great hall and told us that it’s better to endure than to hope for better. She wouldn’t have been the one who convinced the College of Enchanters that surrendering is our only option.”
“Then I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
He shrugged. What else could he ask her for? First Enchanter Edmonde told him once that this sometimes happened to mages. They lived their entire lives separated from humanity until finally they forgot they were ever part of it to begin with. The Wynne he remembered had been gentle and caring, not aloof and imperious; it didn’t seem possible the same woman was across from him now.
But perhaps he should be grateful. Even if this was only a respite from his fate, it was better than nothing. For what it was worth, he was out of the tower—for now.