by David Gaider
He eased back in his chair, clenching his jaw in silent fury. "Do what you came to do," he said through gritted teeth.
Wynne nodded, satisfied, and turned to Rhys once again. "I'm afraid there's nowhere for either of you to sit," she began, searching about the room as if expecting chairs to suddenly materialize.
"I can stand," he said. "What's this about?"
"I need your help."
"My help?" Rhys glanced at the Lord Seeker, and then Ser Evangeline, but their stony expressions offered no enlightenment. "What could you need my help for? And why would I offer it?"
"Would you rather go back to the dungeons?" the Lord Seeker interjected.
Rhys didn't answer. Inwardly he rankled at the threat.
Wynne merely nodded, as if his reply was nothing more than she expected. "An old friend of mine has been turned into an abomination," she began. "I intend a rescue, and that means going into the Fade to wrest control from the demon that has possessed him. It's a difficult task, and not one I can do alone. I'll need you to come with me to help perform the ritual."
The Lord Seeker let out an angry growl and slammed his fist down on the desk. "You said nothing about taking Enchanter Rhys from the tower!"
"Nor did I need to, until now."
"Have you forgotten about the attack upon the Divine? This man is involved, and I cannot allow him to leave. I will not."
"I thought you might say that." She reached into a pocket in her white cloak and produced a vellum scroll, the wax seal bearing the symbol of the Chantry. The Lord Seeker snatched it away with a scowl. Breaking the seal, he unrolled the scroll and read. "As you can see for yourself, the Divine has given me full authority to perform my mission as I see fit." She smiled slightly. "And I see fit to take Enchanter Rhys with me. He is a spirit medium, after all, and thus his abilities will prove useful."
The Lord Seeker ignored her and continued to scan the document. Carefully. Finally his scowl deepened. "Where did you get this?"
"From the Divine, obviously. An old friend introduced us."
He rolled the scroll back up and tossed it onto the desk as if it were refuse. "You seem to have a great many old friends," he sneered. "And I'm supposed to let you endanger one mage just to save another? What is so special about this man?"
Wynne considered. "He is Tranquil," she admitted.
Rhys almost spat in surprise. "What? That's impossible!"
The Lord Seeker also seemed surprised, and his eyes narrowed at Wynne suspiciously. "The Rite of Tranquility severs a mage's connection to the Fade forever. They cannot be possessed by demons; that is the entire point."
"Even so, it has happened." She looked at Rhys. "You have performed research into demons, according to your First Enchanter. My friend has done the same. If he contacted a demon with extraordinary powers, we need to know what it is and whether this can happen again. If, however, this is a failing of the Rite of Tranquility . . ."
"The Rite has never failed," the Lord Seeker insisted.
"If it has," Rhys said, "then we all need to know it."
Lord Seeker Lambert chewed over the idea, making a face as if tasting something unpleasant. Eventually he made up his mind. "Absolutely not," he said curtly. "I can't allow such an ill- considered venture."
Wynne smiled sweetly. "That's not for you to decide."
"I am responsible for the safety of all mages within the Circle."
"If you prefer to have the Divine order you personally, that can be arranged."
The Lord Seeker glared at her. It was the dangerous look of a man who wouldn't soon forget the insult being handed to him. Wynne refused to give in, and a silent battle of wills ensued as the others looked on in tense silence. Rhys wondered if it was about to come to violence.
Instead, the man gave in. "Ser Evangeline will accompany you," he said curtly, "and ensure that Enchanter Rhys is returned to the tower once your task is done."
The templar's eyes went wide, and her mouth opened as if she were about to protest, but then thought better of it. Wynne had no such hesitation. "I don't remember asking for an escort," she said.
"Nevertheless, you will receive one." He glanced at Evangeline, and she nodded acknowledgment of the order. "I'm certain the Divine would not object to my providing extra protection for this mission of yours, not to mention some assurances a dangerous mage won't mysteriously elude our grasp while he's absent."
"Now I'm dangerous?" Rhys snorted.
"Yes." Lambert fixed him with a dangerous glare. "You think us fools? Ser Evangeline finds you in the crypts, with no explanation for your presence or your behavior? You know far more than you admit to. That in itself is an indictment I will not ignore." The last was delivered in a tone so forceful it made Rhys retreat a step.
"Take him," the man barked at Wynne. "But if your intention is to spare your son from justice, you will not be successful. Even the Divine will not protect you if our investigation is interfered with."
"So I see." She replaced the scroll in her cloak. Then she sat back in her chair, raising a curious brow at Rhys. "Are you willing to help me now? I won't force you to come, if you do not wish it."
He considered. Refusing would no doubt mean a return to the dungeon, but he didn't trust Wynne's motives. At least here he knew what to expect. Then again, this friend of hers researched demons, just as Rhys himself once had. What if the man possessed knowledge that could help with Cole's curse? That could also prove Rhys's innocence in the murders. It was a long shot, but it might be the only chance he'd get.
"Very well," he agreed reluctantly, already regretting it. "But from what I know of this ritual, you'll need more than just the two of us. There need to be three mages . . . at a minimum."
"That's right," Adrian suddenly piped up. "You should take me."
She exchanged a significant look with Rhys. She wanted to come, that was clear. He didn't care for the idea of taking her into danger any more than going himself— but then again, he couldn't think of anyone else he'd rather face it with. Getting her away from the tower would also prevent her from becoming his replacement in the dungeon.
"Yes," he agreed. "Adrian should come with us."
Wynne allowed herself a pleased smile. "You should both go and prepare, then. We leave in the morning, and it's a long journey to the Western Approach." She looked at Ser Evangeline. "You too, my dear, although you'll have to provide your own horse. I only brought the one extra."
"That shouldn't be a problem."
Nobody moved. After an awkward minute of tense silence, Rhys unceremoniously turned and walked out. There wasn't really anything more to say. Adrian followed on his heels.
"You owe me an explanation," she hissed in his ear as soon as they were out the door.
"I'll bet."
They passed through the chilly foyer, both guards studiously ignoring them, and back into the corridor outside. If there was one good thing about all this, he thought, it was that he was finally getting out of this templar- infested tower. Even if the respite was nothing more than a delayed sentence, hovering over his head like an executioner's axe, it would still be a chance for fresh air. The problems of the Circle of Magi could be left behind, for a time.
As would Cole. That thought darkened his mood considerably.
What in the blazes are you doing now, Cole?
Chapter 6
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 ha
d 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. Sh
e 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 . . ."
