While she had no aversion to the Circle Tower, Audrie had stopped thinking of it as her home when she’d returned to help stop Uldred’s revolt. It looked ominous jutting out of the water, as they were rowed toward it. The long boat ride was no less chilly than any other time, but Kestor did his best to pass the time with idle conversation. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you here, Youngster. I remember you had to go across with that templar who took control of Lizzy.”
Alistair knew she was prone to get cold more easily than he did, and unhooked his fur cloak to drape around her shoulders. Gratefully, she burrowed into it like a turtle, letting his lingering smell pleasantly envelop her. Leaning closer to him, she took advantage of his emanating body warmth and watched a giant, pale fish flicker just beneath the shining surface of the lake. A jaw full of teeth flashed as it darted at a smaller fish then made its malevolent way deeper. Anders must have paid homage to some ancient god of luck like Imhar when he escaped, even if he didn’t openly worship him. Something had kept the vicious monsters from ripping his flailing limbs when he desperately paddled across the water in one of his many bids for freedom. Part of the reason she learned shapeshifting from Morrigan during the Blight was to give herself wings so she’d never have to worry about going into the water. All streams and lakes made her nervous unless they were clear or shallow enough to see the bottom.
“It’s just as cold as I remember,” she told Kestor, pulling the folds of Alistair’s cloak tighter around her shoulders. Unlike her, the two men were impervious to the bite in the air. “It has been a long time since I’ve been back. Is Greagoir still Knight-Commander?”
“That he is, and I suppose he’s going to be surprised to see you.”
Audrie’s smile flopped into a rueful twist. It had been years, so she hoped Greagoir finally forgave her for the fiasco with Jowan. She would have done it all over again for a friend, but the ‘plan’ the three of them cooked up was the most idiotic thing she’d ever done in her life. It had more or less worked out, but only because Duncan had snatched her out from under a livid Knight-Commander who wanted her severely punished. She never found out exactly what he had planned for her, but aiding a maleficar to destroy his phylactery and escape wasn’t innocently running off like Anders. She would have surely been facing solitary confinement or flogging, and the Knight-Commander didn’t forget easily. He was still as pleasant as a amorous deepstalker the last time she’d seen him, in spite clearing out the Tower of abominations.
She was relieved to get back to solid land, and scrambled out of the boat ahead of Alistair, returning his cloak to him once she had both boots firmly on dirt and stone. “Thanks Kestor. If this takes too long and you have to leave, I’ll light the torch.” It was the standard way of signaling him if he didn’t stay at the Tower dock. “This may take awhile.” As much as she hoped they’d be able to walk to a shelf and check three or four books, she knew it would never be that easy.
The path up the stairs from the cavernous dock where the Circle got food and other supplies was eerily familiar. Audrie had to quell the weird impulse that she was skulking where she didn’t belong and scurry back to her Apprentice quarters. The phantom feeling made her smirk to herself in the darkness, and approach the templars standing watch with their faceless helms pulled down. She squared her shoulders and marched up to them without twitching an eyelash. “Would you tell Knight-Commander Greagoir that the Warden Commander Audrie Amell is here to see him?” When in doubt, use fancy titles.
Either they were too green to have been at the post very long or hadn’t forgotten the role which made Grey Wardens heroes in Ferelden. One of them went clanking off immediately to fetch Greagoir, and he was just as happy to see her as she’d imagined he would be. The title must have worked to get him to speak to them so quickly. Glowering, the Knight-Commander looked down at her. Did he ever give up a grudge? She really didn’t dislike him, but the whole mess with Jowan happened a really long time ago. “Hello, Ser Greagoir,” she bid him politely, “I have a situation and I’d like to borrow the library.”
It might have been the fact she wasn’t trying to grab troops or drag anyone off which thawed him a little. “What kind of situation?”
Obviously he’d relinquished his true right to control over her life, but wasn’t entirely ready to let go of his authority over any mage, even a Grey Warden. She decided he was usually fair and direct, so honesty was the best way of dealing with him. “It may involve unknown magic. I don’t know if it’s blood magic or something else. If there’s any record or information we might find, it would help us a great deal.”
Looking at her for a long, hard moment, the templar demanded, “And if it is blood magic, will you be calling in the templars to deal with the maleficar?”
Resisting the urge to either cringe or roll her eyes, Audrie planted hands on her hips and glared back at him. “Ser, if there is one thing I’ve never dabbled in and never will, it’s blood magic. I had no idea Jowan was lying to me all those years ago, and I was a naive girl who thought that a pair of starry eyed lovers could somehow escape and make a life outside the tower. It was stupid of me, but really, in the scope of what happened later, I think I did alright against a raging inferno of a dragon which lead hordes of darkspawn. Ashvale has a chantry doesn’t it?” she demanded coolly. “If there’s really a maleficar involved, I’ll appeal to the templars for help. I don’t want them running free any more than you do.”
Alistair wanted to jump in on her behalf, but wasn’t sure exactly what to put in. The Wardens occasionally used blood mages, even if it wasn’t something Audrie tolerated in the Order. Saying anything to oppose it would make both of them sound like hypocrites.
“You haven’t changed,” Greagoir sighed, more exasperated or mildly amused than angry. “You may use the library if you wish. It’s been rebuilt and sorted since the last time you were here.”
“Thank you,” she told the grizzled veteran sincerely. “We’ll get this done as quickly as possible.” She didn’t imagine the Circle got many visitors, and didn’t invite people to stay overly long.
She knew the way, but an apple cheeked young man with a smattering of freckles on his nose intercepted her. Partnered with the carrot orange mop of hair sticking out from the crown of his head, Audrie found it impossible to take him seriously. The attempt at a tough scowl made him more comical than frightening, but the Warden managed to carry herself with grave humility while they were shown the very familiar path to the library. Just because the youth looked harmless didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of smiting her into next week.
“There’s so many books here,” Alistair breathed over the muffle of pages turning, soft leather shoes scuffing on the stones, scratching of quills, rustle of templar armor stance, and whispered conversation. “How are we going to find the right one?”
“They’re ordered by sections. That won’t make it easy, but it will help us narrow d–“
“Audrie?” A tall young man in enchanter’s robes with brown hair growing around his ears and familiar blue grey eyes came loping toward her on long legs.
She stared at him for several seconds before she realized who it must be. “Connor? Is that you?” His shy, awkward smile was confirmation enough, and she impulsively put her hands on his shoulders to look into his face. “You’ve sprung up like a young tree! Look at you!” Getting some scandalized glowers from a few of the older mages in Enchanters robes she lowered her voice. “You’re so handsome and grown up.”
He hadn’t ever forgotten what she had done for him, freeing him from the grip of a Desire demon by chasing it down in the Fade. He’d thought about writing to her, but never knew what to say. By the time he was old enough to thank her properly, it had been too long. “I just went through my Harrowing last month,” he told her in such a low whisper that she almost didn’t hear him. “It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be.”
She wished she could have said the same about hers, but gave him a congratulatory pat on the back. “Well done.”
“Have you heard from Eamon lately?” Alistair asked when he had the opportunity. He and the man who raised him early in life has been mending bridges. With a twinge of guilt, the Warden remembered he hadn’t visited or written in months.
“Father comes to visit me sometimes.” Evidently the Arl’s status allowed him Circle privileges most people either didn’t want or pursue. “I think mother is still disappointed that I can never be Arl, but I’ve learned how to control my magic here. It’s,” he shrugged slightly, “not bad here. I heard there’s a mess in Kirkwall and everyone is really nervous. You don’t live here anymore, can you tell us what’s going on?”
There was a loaded beehive of trouble, and Audrie smiled politely at a lurking templar. “Come help me look for a book,” she whispered so they weren’t as obvious. She didn’t want Greagoir think she’d begun to sow dissention, particularly considering Anders. The Knight-Commander was sure to have heard all the rumors, and she wasn’t ever going to be his favorite mage.
While they browsed, she kept her sentences short and mingled with the subject of what she was hunting for. Handing Alistair books occasionally to help with the browsing, she focused as she skimmed pages, and gave the freshly minted mage words of caution concerning Kirkwall. Greagoir wasn’t a vindictive man, and she couldn’t imagine him turning around and annulling the Circle or anything radical without something like Uldred. He’d accepted Irving’s word that he wasn’t infested with demons and that the Circle could be salvaged. That did not mean he couldn’t be removed if the Chantry insisted, and replaced with a harder Commander who would turn a blind eye to gross abuse. It was a sticky problem, and she didn’t want to be guilty of inciting riot inside the tower.
She’d never been treated particularly poorly by the templars while growing up. Kinloch Hold had been her home and sanctuary. When Duncan took her out into the wide world, every leaf blowing or cricket call had put her into a panic. Usually the great walls of the tower were a safe haven, even if it did hinder their freedom to run freely. She’d never willingly go back to living there, but lacked any outright vehemence toward the vigilant templars who were like Cullen. How much longer before the changes he’d described would come to Ferelden? For a moment, she wished she had a decent relationship with Greagoir and could ask him what impact the uprising, Seekers, Kirkwall, and Chantry were going to have at home. The Chantry might easily be reacting rashly from the death of a Grand Cleric at the hands of a mage. If they abruptly decided to start stamping out all mages in spite of protests from decent men and women in the ranks of the templars, they could. Only the Chantry had the power to call a Divine March, and something like Kirkwall might be enough to light a fuse. The mages deserved to be able to defend themselves. Knowledge was power, and Connor had been through much more than the average boy.
“Audrie,” Alistair interrupted her thoughts, guiding an open book in her direction. She’d been staring at the same page for nearly five minutes and absorb a single word. From the look on Alistair’s face, he’d noticed but didn’t aggravate her about it. She’d always had a weakness for tuning out her surroundings, and it had gotten her hurt. That hadn’t been in a library, however. “Here,” he pointed out a passage on book, “take a look at this.”
Leaning toward it, she drew everyone closer to a light. Her eyes darted over the writing so quickly she had to go back over it twice to digest everything. “…. said to keep victims alive with the use of lyrium or blood to fuel it. Scholars have made many hypothesis it might not exist, or that the Table of Pain may have a demon bound into it by the original owner. Learned men scoff at the rumors it has power of life, death, and immortality. Gruesome experimentation has been linked to it which involved placing a woman’s eyes into another man’s skull. If it ever existed, it is believed lost since …..” She read it again, but there wasn’t any more useful information in the brief pages of the chapter.
For another hour they pored over the shelves for any other scraps they could find, but it yielded nothing. “I don’t like the sound of that,” Alistair muttered.
“Do you think it’s real?” Connor asked curiously as he gently closed a tome on Artifacts: Elven, Dwarf, Barbarian and Tevinter.
“I don’t know,” Audrie admitted, “but the Wardens need to find out.” The Architect had a perverse love of experimentation, and few scruples. If he had managed to get control of such a device, it needed to be destroyed, and preferably along with the darkspawn emissary.
——————–
Disclaimer: Dragon Age, Alistair, Cullen, Carver, Nathaniel, Bulfa, Sigrun, Grey Wardens and the general setting belong to Bioware. Audrie and the story belong to me. You may not copy or reproduce this anywhere else without my permission.
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