Elowyn had thought Vyrantium was impressive, but as they drew near to the towers of Minrathous, her breath caught in her throat. The city was huge! Whole buildings floated in the air above it. Towers rose into the sky, and waterfalls cascaded, tumbling from the highest levels to form reflective pools at the bottom, where they flowed over the edge of the island into the sea. As they drew closer, Elowyn could see gigantic carvings of dragons everywhere, beautiful and frightening. Then she saw the juggernauts, standing guard at the gates of the city. Her mind had boggled at their size – she had thought they were strange buildings at first, until their shapes had coalesced. They were simply enormous.
Caradoc stood next to her. His grin was even brighter than usual. “Home!” he said simply.
“For you, maybe,” she said.
“You’ll get used to it. You’ll be thinking of it as home in no time.”
“Never!” she shot back.
Caradoc stroked her collar. “If you’re good, this will come off. Then you’ll see what it’s like to be a mage in Tevinter. Makes me envious, in fact. You’ll experience parts of the city I’ll never see.”
“I thought everyone was a mage in Tevinter.”
Caradoc smiled wryly. “Don’t believe everything they told you in Orlais. Most of the citizens have no magic at all. Who do you think empties the chamberpots?”
“Elves.”
“There are some human slaves, too. Pity the poor humans who have no magic. They’re worse off than yourself.”
“Strange.”
“Indeed. Just remember who your friends were, when you get high and mighty.”
Elowyn made a dismissive noise. “High and mighty elves in Tevinter? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Caradoc rubbed her shoulder, almost affectionately. “Just don’t forget me.”
“How could I? You’re too irritating to forget.”
***
Odd to think she’d developed some affection for her captor. What did they call that again? Kirkwall syndrome? A term used to describe, contemptuously, how some mages fell in love with Templars. ‘Guilty as charged!’ Elowyn said to herself, thinking of Guy. Thinking of Guy, whom she’d left on the ground, stabbed by his own brother and wounded by the Red Jennies. Left him to die. ‘What kind of friend am I?’ she castigated herself. ‘I expected some Tevinter stranger to help me, and I couldn’t even save my best friend.’ She choked back the tears that were always just below the surface of her thoughts.
Caradoc had put her in some kind of gondola that hovered over the ground. “You’re not coming with me?” she asked him in astonishment. He shook his head.
“I’ll see you again. Be good!” He pulled the curtains closed, and she felt the gondola lift.
Elowyn peeked out of the curtains and saw other gondolas rising and falling. There was something fade-like about Minrathous, the way things floated, the way that magic pervaded everything. She could almost see it, like mist flowing through everything around her.
The gondola stopped, and she pulled the curtain aside. A man in livery was hurrying toward her. He helped her out onto a platform attached to an ornate building. He bowed and gestured her forward with an arm outstretched. She walked toward an enormous doorway. Statues of dragons snarled on either side. The building appeared to be carved of different kinds of stone, faceted in geometric designs. It was an odd combination and felt very foreign to her.
The doors opened as she drew near. She stepped into an equally enormous foyer with a bubbling fountain at the center. The foyer opened onto a courtyard enclosed by delicate columns. Another person in livery appeared and ushered her silently across the courtyard to the side. She admired the exotic trees and flowers as she passed. Someone was playing a lute. The music mixed with birdsong and drifted across the flowers like a heady scent.
She and the servant entered a room airy with windows. Her feet sank into luxurious carpets. The walls were painted with frescoes, and she blushed as she realized they depicted licentious scenes. One of the subjects in the painting appeared to have enormous… horns on his head. Colorful birds flitted in golden cages arrayed around the room along with silken sofas layered with tapestried cushions. 'Kitty and Sean could make a fortune selling to these people!’ she thought. She heard someone come into the room and turned to see a shemlen woman, tall, slim and regal, dressed all in glistening layers of black silk and damask. She reminded Elowyn of the Marquise, Guy’s stepmother Eugenie, only this woman had dark hair and eyes. The lady smiled sweetly. Just like Guy’s stepmother. Elowyn felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.
The lady rustled closer to Elowyn and held out her hand. Elowyn reluctantly pressed it, and the woman said, “I’m so glad you made it here in one piece! I heard you had a little trouble on the way.”
“I’m glad, too,” said Elowyn. “You must be Caradoc’s…”
“Aurelia Caracalla, Magistra. You’re Elowyn? Do you have a family name?”
Elowyn startled at the name – hadn’t the Marquise referred to her friend as Aurelie? How had the slave traders arranged this transaction? She managed to say her family name, “Adaran.”
“Shall we sit down?” The Magistra gestured toward a sofa. She rang a little bell on a side table, and a servant hurried in. “Some of the sparking Castes Green, and pastries,” she informed the servant, who turned and left before Elowyn could get a good look at her. Elowyn took a chair opposite and sat gingerly on the edge.
“Do you know the Marquise then?” Elowyn asked.
“The Marquise du Bessay? She’s a dear friend of mine!”
“How did… could you explain how I ended up here? They put a bag over my head!”
“I’m sorry about that. Such rough folk. I hope that Caradoc treated you well?”
Elowyn blinked at this dismissal of her hardships. “He was solicitous.”
“It’s simple: Eugenie informed me that you had disappeared after that unfortunate incident. There is nothing that happens in Orlais without her knowledge. She simply used her connections to locate you, and my people picked you up on the other side. It all worked out beautifully!”
“Except that I still don’t know why I’m here, or why it was necessary for you to kidnap me!”
“Perhaps the smugglers were a little creative in their methods. They’re not used to dealing with gentle folk after all.”
Elowyn frowned and looked down at her wrists where the rope had bound her. “Guy had intended to come with me,” she said sadly.
“It’s unfortunate… Poor Eugenie! I don’t know why the Orlesians put up with these troublemakers. That sort of thing wouldn’t get off the ground in Tevinter,” stated Aurelie.
“That’s reassuring,” Elowyn replied sardonically.
The servant arrived with a tray and poured two glasses of wine. Elowyn tried to catch her eye as the servant handed her a glass but the elf glided away. Elowyn took a sip of the pale green wine. It was bubbling and crisp, with a slight sweetness.
“Lovely, isn’t it?” said Aurelie. It’s a ’23. I snapped up the whole vintage!”
Elowyn agreed, and Aurelie offered her a pastry. They looked delicious, but Elowyn had little appetite. She was swimming in treacherous waters and was afraid of being lulled into submission by the tasty treats. She took one more sip of the wine and put the glass down.
“Now, let’s talk about your contract.”
“Contract?”
“Yes, tedious but necessary.” Aurelie made a little moue of distaste and handed a scroll to Elowyn. “My clerks drew it up. It states the terms of your employment.”
Elowyn scanned the first few paragraphs. “It says ‘slave’ here, right in the first line! Right under ‘Conditions of Servitude.’”
“Yes, yes, but read a little further. You’ll see there are protections: the purchase price will be invested for you, and you have a buyout option after ten years – that’s the usual duration.”
“Where’s the part about sacrificial blood magic victims?” Elowyn asked sarcastically.
“Paragraph 22, section 3,” stated Aurelie without blinking an eye.
“Is that standard? I’d like to add ‘and family members’ to that section.” Elowyn realized she was actually talking terms and wondered how she’d been drawn so far in to this discussion.
“That can be arranged.” Aurelie rang the little bell again and gave instructions to the servant. Elowyn read the part about living arrangements.
“It says here that I will be living with the family, though travel will be required ‘at times.’ Don’t mages live in the Circle then?” she asked.
Aurelie laughed. “We’re all mages! Well, not all of us, but anyone who counts. Our Circles are not prisons the way they are in Orlais and Ferelden. Think of them more like universities. You can live and work there, but no one is forcing you to be there. If you check Paragraph 33, you’ll see that you’ll have access to the Circle resources – libraries, magical apparati, etc. – but you’ll be working directly for me. There’s a non-disclosure clause, of course.”
“What will I be researching exactly?” asked Elowyn.
“We can discuss that after you sign the contract. Ah, here she is.” Another person dressed all in black appeared, carrying a scrollcase and penbox.
She addressed the clerk, “She wants to add a familial conservation addendum.”
“Which degree of kinship, exactly?” asked the clerk.
“All of them,” said Elowyn.
“Are you actually married?” asked Aurelie, looking concerned.
“No, but in future. It does say in here, let’s see, paragraph 28, that I am ‘allowed to marry and have offspring’ provided it doesn’t interfere with my duties. That’s rather vague.”
“Oh, that’s standard as well. Many researchers are happy to have the excuse. Duty calls! Very handy.”
“I see.” Never having been in a relationship, Elowyn had never considered the necessity of wiggling out of one. “What happens if I don’t sign this contract?” she asked.
“That would be unfortunate. You’d be sent back, with costs deducted, of course.”
“Sent back?”
“To Orlais, where, need I remind you? Apostates are hunted down and beheaded. Dreadful!”
“So, I sign the contract, I work for you, keep your secrets, and in ten years’ time, what happens?”
“You may sign another contract or buy out your indenture and apply for citizenship, or leave the Imperium. All of your research remains with me, though as it says in paragraph 36, a percentage of any proceeds goes into your account.”
The clerk handed her the familial conservation addendum which specified that none of her first or second degree kin by blood or marriage could be sacrificed by a member of the Caracallus family. ‘Whew, that’s reassuring,’ Elowyn thought t herself. It was still better than the Circle, where there was no agreement guaranteeing a mage’s safety. The Right of Annulment could be declared any time, and all the mages slaughtered.
“I’ll give you a little time to think about it,” Aurelie said, getting up and walking to the doorway, where she conferred with the clerk in a low voice. Elowyn examined her alternatives: sign the contract and commit to being at the beck and call of the Caracallus family for ten years, or live the life of a fugitive? If not for the word ‘slavery’ in the contract, it would appear to simply be a work arrangement. The slave word bothered her. Elves in Orlais were poor, but they were technically free. Still, a mage in Orlais was never free and lived in constant fear. Her whole life at the Circle had been dictated by other people, so there was little difference, except that here she would have access to all the resources at the disposal of the powerful magisterial family, some freedom to travel, and – she re-read paragraph 11 – freedom of movement within the city as it pertained to her work, meaning she could go outside whenever she liked. All in all, it was a better deal than either living in an Orlesian Circle or running from Templars. She doubted that the Templars could pursue her to Tevinter. They Chantry would probably be happy if all the mages left Southern Thedas.
“I'm not signing anything until if you remove this collar.”
Aurelie consulted with the clerk again, rang the little bell, and told the servant to fetch someone. “Just a moment,” she said to Elowyn.
Elowyn was surprised to see Caradoc enter the room. Her belly did a little somersault, and she felt blood rush to her cheeks. At that moment, she stepped outside of herself and was disconcerted to see herself so flustered, especially as Caradoc stepped closer to her. She shivered as he touched the back of her neck.
“Sorry, I guess my hands were a little cold,” he said. His hands were warm, but she decided to bluff.
“Just happy to get this thing off.”
Caradoc did something to the back of the collar, and the tension around her throat eased. Her mana flowed back into her body. It felt like she’d been resurrected from the dead: all her senses sharpened. Even the air tasted fresher and sweeter. She wondered if she’d been lulled into this situation by the effect of the collar. Like a Tranquil, she’d been agreeable to everything commanded of her. She felt angry with herself for not fighting back when the abolitionists attacked and for passively being led into this room and sitting down with the Magistra.
She glanced at Aurelie who looked surprisingly nervous. Don’t be fooled! Elowyn told herself. She’s a consummate actor.
“You are free to go,” said Aurelie, “but I hope you’ll stay. There’s so much we can learn from each other.”
Elowyn glanced at Caradoc, who was watching her intently. She tried to read his expression. Aurelie noticed her scrutiny and said, “Caradoc works for me. Would you like to ask him about it?”
“Will he be punished for telling the truth?”
“I didn’t achieve my present position by relying on unwilling servants,” stated Aurelie. “I’ll leave you two alone for a moment.”
She flowed out of the room with the clerk and closed the door. Elowyn turned to Caradoc.
“What is it that you do for the Magistra, besides buying slaves, that is,” she asked him.
“I’m what’s called a Fixer. I make things happen.”
“Like a steward?” she asked.
“Not exactly. Think of it this way: your Divine has people called Hands, does she not? Think of me as the hand of the Caracalla family, with Magistra Aurelia as its head.”
“Where is its heart?” asked Elowyn slyly. Caradoc smiled.
“Where indeed? And its hair and its legs. I can tell you where its stomach is!”
Elowyn laughed. “How about its mana?”
“That would be you. And all the other mages, of course,” he added quickly. “I can tell you this: the Magistra is one of the most powerful mages I have ever met. You could learn a lot from her.”
“What about all these stories of Tevinter magisters sacrificing elves for blood magic? The contract spares me that, but I couldn’t live with myself if I participated in the suffering of other people,” she said.
“I can’t guarantee that you won’t have to kill anyone,” said Caradoc, “but only people who threaten the family or attempt to steal or sabotage research. Use of blood magic is a sign of weakness. It shows a lack of confidence in a mage’s abilities. Should the Caracalla family be known to use blood magic, it would signal desperation to our enemies.”
“So they’ve never used it?”
“They have not sacrificed a person for use in a blood magic ritual while I have been working for them,” said Caradoc carefully.
“So they’ve used blood magic then, but not actually murdered anyone for the power,” she replied.
“Is there harm in using your own blood for power? Or that of a willing donor? Isn’t it better to know how it works than to pretend no one uses it? I am not a mage. You can ask the Magistra these questions.”
Elowyn sighed. She wasn’t going to apologize for asking. She’d been told her whole life that the evil Tevinter magisters sacrificed elven slaves to power their rituals. She needed to know the truth.
“Why do they want me, specifically?” she asked.
“That is simple: the Magistra is friends with Her Grace Eugenie de Penthièvre du Bessay. When the Magistra asked her friend to help her find an expert in certain aspects of magic, the Marquise recommended you. There was no nefarious plot involved.”
“Except for the kidnapping part.”
“We don’t routinely abduct promising young mages,” he replied. “As I’ve explained, the sailors went a little overboard, so to speak. Can you complain about your treatment while in my care?”
“You didn’t remove the collar! You knew how, the whole time I was with you, but you left it on.”
“Should I have risked removing it and having you attack me? I was there to protect you, not to kill you.” Caradoc was looking quite bothered by this. She hadn’t felt she could upset him, he’d seemed so calm, almost cold.
It was difficult for Elowyn to argue with him. Growing up with the Templars watching had taught her to try to please people so they’d leave her alone. She went over to the window and looked out at the floating buildings. Just then, something flew by. “Is that a cow?!”
Caradoc joined her at the window. “Looks like Faustia is experimenting again.”
“With cows? I wonder if that’d work with druffalo?”
Caradoc smiled and put his hand on Elowyn’s shoulder. “See? Bet you didn’t have flying cows in Orlais! You could go down in history as the first mage to make druffalo fly.”
“Well, how could I turn that down?”
“Listen, I know that you’re feeling alone in a strange place and that you’re unsure whom to trust. But I hope that you’ll take into account the courtesy we’ve shown you so far, and that you’ll stay.”
Elowyn looked into his eyes and felt it was very unfair to have such a handsome elf deliver this message. She asked herself if she’d be so inclined to say yes if he hadn’t been so attractive. Ten years was a long time. She glanced out the window once again and reached inside herself for her mana. She felt it flow into her hands and respond to all the magic infused throughout the city. Her hands vibrated, and she opened them to find a scarlet dragonfly, which flew out through the window and away through the sky.
“Alright,” she said, “I’ll sign the contract.”
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