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[Serelir]

The Fade

Spoiler

She needed to get out of the Manor. So many had died there that the Fade clamored with their voices. She planned to walk completely out of the city – there was a bridge, even in the Fade. Or there usually was – things changed. If she turned her head quickly, the streets ran with blood. It was not a good place to collect one’s thoughts.

 

She noticed someone trying to catch up with her. She heard a child babbling and turned around, waiting. It was Nazlik, carrying a baby, the beautiful child Elowyn had encountered in Caius’ dream. Of course, this was merely a couple of spirits taking the forms of Nazlik and the child, but they bore such an uncanny resemblance to the real people that Elowyn had difficulty not believing they were the same.

 

“I’m glad you waited!” Fade-Nazlik said breathlessly.

 

“You can stop the pretense,” Elowyn replied. “You’re not Nazlik”

 

“Yet I represent her in your mind,” said the spirit slyly. “Look at this child! Don’t you wish he were yours?”

 

Elowyn regarded the baby. She wondered if Caius had been that cute. He was certainly handsome now, at the full height of his power. His scars only added to his attractiveness. And the younger version of Caius she’d encountered in his dream had made her heart quicken as well. This child was the result of two beautiful, powerful, successful parents.

 

Unlike the baby growing inside her. Elowyn shuddered.

 

“That is something I can never have, no matter how much I might desire it,” she said.

 

“You know that he loves you. He would do anything for you.”

 

“Like a father,” Elowyn said. “And no, he would not. I’m tired of your games.” The images of Nazlik and the baby burned away, changing into Publius and Aurelie.

 

“What is it now? What new torments have you devised for me?” said Elowyn, walking onward.

 

The demons ran to keep pace with her. “You could have stayed with me,” said demon-Aurelie, “and none of this would have happened.”

 

“You wanted to breed me to your son,” replied Elowyn, walking on.

 

“Your child could have been heir to House Caracalla, a Magister. Now you are nothing, the 31^st apprentice,” taunted the demon.

 

Publius chimed in, “You thought you were Caius’ little pet, his protegée. Now look at you. Disgraced!”

 

“No one will want you now,” sniffed Aurelie, “Used goods. There never was much to you to begin with.”

 

“In ten years’ time, I’ll have a seat in the Senate,” added Publius. “You’ll be a washed-up old hag. Whose eye will you catch then? Caius will be dead, and you’ll be all alone, with no friends to support you.”

 

“Shut up Shut up!” Elowyn cried, drawn into the argument against her better judgement.

 

“Everyone you love dies,” hissed Aurelie. “Every person you touch suffers. You think to do good, yet you cause corruption wherever you go.”

 

“Slaveowner ******!” hissed Publius.

 

Elowyn wiped away tears and began running. “Leave me alone!” she shouted.

 

“Your child will hate you, too!” both demons shouted in unison.

 

Elowyn shaped a boulder and dropped it on the demons and ran on.

[Serelir]

The Fade

Spoiler

She was exhausted. The bad thing about being able to walk physically in the Fade as that she grew tired and hungry and thirsty just as she did on the other side of the Veil. She found some shade under a tree and sat down, leaning her back against its sturdy trunk. The trees branches shook in the breeze, causing its leaf-shadows to dance. Butterflies flew around her head. The buzzing of the bees made her feel drowsy.

 

The tree began speaking to her, caressing her hair with its leaves. “Rest, child, I will watch over you.” Elowyn turned, put her arms around the tree, and cried.

 

“There, there,” said the tree, “It will be alright. I confess, your tears are soothing. I felt parched, and you came and watered me.”

 

Elowyn started laughing, despite herself. Laughing and crying. “I love you, tree!” she declared.

 

“I love you, too,” said the tree.

 

“How can you love me?” asked Elowyn. “You don’t even know me!”

 

“Nevertheless, I do,” said the tree. “No one has ever hugged me before you.”

 

“Sweet tree,” said Elowyn, “I am so troubled. You’ve picked a flawed person to love.”

 

The tree swayed in the wind, creaking. “Nonsense! Not a one of us isn’t flawed. Perfection leaves no room for love.”

 

“You’re wise. I wish I could be a tree, just like you,” said Elowyn.

 

“Anything is possible,” observed the tree. Elowyn tried to grow. She could almost feel leaves sprouting from her fingers.

 

“There, you see? Do you feel the sunlight? All you have to do is be…”

 

Elowyn’s limbs stretched toward the sky. Green leaves sprouted and unfurled. They caught the wind and danced, singing. Her legs rooted in the soil, drinking in its dark moisture. It was simpler being a tree. Elowyn watched the sun rise each morning and set each evening. Birds came and built nests in her boughs. Squirrels ran up and down her trunk, tickling her. Her limbs intertwined with the tree next to her, caressing and comforting each other. When it rained, her roots drank up the water. She felt it rise through her, refreshing every part. A Halla and its fawn rested in her shelter.

 

In the Autumn, she fasted, her leaves turning pale gold. Frost visited one night, painting her with lacy ice. She pushed her leaves off, and they floated away. Throughout the winter, she rested.  She spoke with her fellow tree, telling stories. Her tree-friend had seen many spirits pass by during its long life. It told her of armies marching on the road, shepherds with their lambs, traveling jongleurs, highwaymen, merchants, pilgrims, runaway slaves: everyone passed by going one way or another down the road.

 

In the spring, she felt fizzy. Blossoms appeared on all her branches. Water rushed to the smallest twigs. She felt beautiful and vital. Her tree-friend put out its own blossoms. Their pollen rose together in the morning sun, mingling. The wind blew it into all her flowers, and they swelled into seeds. Delicate new leaves emerged, pale green in the moonlight like luna moths. The wind rose again, and her seeds swirled and twirled and whirled, journeying on the wind to new places. One of them landed nearby and took root. A tiny sapling poked its head out of the soil. Her tree-friend whispered to her in its chemical language.

 

“It’s time for you to go back. You have many things to do.”

 

“I want to stay here forever,” said Elowyn.

 

“I have lived centuries, and I will live many more. I will be here when you return.”

 

“But our child, I need to watch over it!”

 

“I will shelter our child. Come back to us whenever you need to rest.”

 

“You won’t forget me?” asked Elowyn.

 

“You are part of us. You are in the rings of our trunks, the shapes of our branches.”

 

Elowyn’s tears fell again as she turned back into an elf.

 

“You are in the water that sustains us,” said her friend.

[Serelir]

Vaellanius Manor

Spoiler

The Manor was strangely quiet when Elowyn stepped back through the Veil. Elowyn wondered how long she had been gone. It had been a year in the Fade, but it could have been ten years or just a few seconds on this side of the Veil.

 

“Hello?” she called, wandering the hallways. She finally found a guard. “Excuse me, have you seen the Magister today?”

 

He looked at her strangely. “The Magister has been gone for weeks! He’s out at the front with his troops. Had your head in a book or something?”

 

“Uh, yes, studying hard!” Elowyn laughed. She knew that Caius had been in the war, but was only vaguely aware that he controlled armies. She supposed he would, being a Magister. Still, she had been too caught up in her own trials and tribulations to pay much attention to Caius’ machinations.

 

She wandered over to the slave quarters. There was an outbuilding shaded by a large oak. Elowyn paused and stroked its bark with her hand. She’d never feel quite the same about trees. They were like kin now. She heard women’s voices and entered the doorway.

 

The conversation stopped, and all eyes turned toward her. “Hi!” she said brightly, “I’ve been away – could you tell me what is going on at the Manor? Where are all the apprentices?”

 

“He’s gone to the front! Taken ‘em wi’ ‘im,” said one of the women.

 

“We been havin’ a bit o’ holiday!” giggled another woman. There were a lot of women in this building, to be sure. They were braiding each other’s hair and soaking their feet and primping and preening. These were not kitchen slaves. Elowyn suddenly realized she had wandered into Caius’ “stable.” She’d heard rumors about his wild younger days, before he’d bought Nazlik.

 

“Oh, ah, carry on then!” said Elowyn. She felt a little envious of their carefree existence. She supposed it was carefree, anyway. Some of them went back to gossiping, laughing and looking her way. She just smiled serenely, held her head high, and sailed back out of the harem.

 

She found her slave woman in the garden. “Laelia!” she called, happy to see her again. Laelia dropped her trowel in shock. “Mistress, is it really you?”

 

“It is! It’s so good to see you! You look well,” said Elowyn. Laelia rushed into her arms. Elowyn patted her. “Have I been gone that long?” she asked, hoping it wasn’t too strange a question.

 

“The Master told us you’d gone away, and then he went away, and many of the others, and it’s been so quiet here! But we’ve all been worried about you and the Master. Ever since the assassination attempt. What would happen to us if you perished? Maker forbid.”

 

“I suppose you’d go to live with the Magister’s daughters? I should make a better provision for you, Laelia. I don’t want you ending up in the wrong hands, or someone taking your children.”

 

“Oh, Mistress, I would be so grateful!”

 

“I’ve been remiss. I promise I will take care of that in the next few days,” among other things, thought Elowyn. She planned to free her slaves as soon as possible. “I’m going to be in my study, if you need me.”

 

“Alright, Mistress. I’m just picking the last of these vegetables. Cook will be excited to see this harvest!”

 

Elowyn still didn’t know how many weeks had passed. Someone had dusted her study at least, though her books and notes were still sitting on the desk. The spell tome Caius had handed to her had been re-shelved. Elowyn opened the desk drawer. There was a folded note inside:

 

“I understand why you needed time to yourself, my apprentice. But know this: I need you here by my side, and I have missed you. C.”

 

Elowyn’s heart did a little somersault. Such intimate words from the Master! She had expected that he might be angry with her. She wondered how he was doing at the front, and worried about him and the other members of the house.

 

Her hands found a sheaf of her notes, and she was reminded that there was a duty left undone: she had to discover whether any other poor souls had been trapped by the evil mage from the brothel. However, she had to make inquiries without alerting any of the other magisters to this issue. Whom to ask? Ah, the Magister’s youngest daughter! Elowyn had only met Miriel a few times, in passing, but she recalled that Miriel was an archivist. Elowyn gathered some supplies and headed off to the Archives.

[Uccio]

"Stable", it cracks me up  !

[Serelir]

Elowyn's a little sorry she missed Caius' wild years

[Serelir]

The Archives, Minrathous

Spoiler

At first glance, Miriel was nothing like her father. She was petite, delicate and blonde. Elowyn wondered what Caius’ wife had looked like. Miriel’s sisters were both tall and regal. Sometimes siblings resembled a grandparent. Elowyn’s own brother was a foot taller than she, though they had the same penetrating blue eyes. There was something about Miriel though, perhaps in her posture, or the set of her brow when she was thinking, that did remind Elowyn of her Master.

 

Miriel led Elowyn to a tiny office. She moved a pile of papers off of a chair so Elowyn could sit down. Despite being a small person, Elowyn found it a tight fit. “I’m the most junior archivist,” Miriel apologized. “This used to be a supply closet! So, what can I do for you? Did my father send you?”

 

“I’m looking into something for him,” Elowyn elided. “I need to find out if there are any residents of Minrathous who have lost their mental faculties, such that their bodies live, but their souls appear to be missing.”

 

Miriel contemplated Elowyn. “That’s… interesting.” Elowyn was sure Miriel wondered why her father was interested in such phenomena, but she felt that the less others knew, the better. Elowyn merely smiled at Miriel, waiting for her response.

 

“There’s an office at the Archon’s palace that tracks medical issues, accidents, and so forth. I presume you want to keep this inquiry under wraps?” Elowyn nodded, and Miriel continued, “Alright, I will write an order for this information so that it looks like a request from the Archives rather than from my father.”

 

Elowyn thanked her and caught a coach to the Archon’s palace. The office of the medical examiner was contained in the Templar compound. She felt nervous entering the stronghold of the Templars, but reminded herself that she was a mage in an empire run by mages, and that these particular Templars had no interest in causing trouble for her.

 

She asked for directions at the front desk and was making her way down the hall when a Templar in full armor blocked her path. She swallowed, feeling her heartbeat speed up anxiously, and looked at the Templar, trying to see his eyes behind his helmet.

 

“Elowyn?” he asked unexpectedly. Elowyn felt her mouth drop open. She stared at him, feeling as though she’d stepped into the Fade.

 

“Guy? Is that you?” she asked incredulously.

 

“Maker’s Blessings! It’s you!” he shouted joyfully, embracing her. She gasped as his armored body crushed her. “Oh, sorry!” he said, “I’m just so happy to see you!”

 

“What in Thedas are you doing here?” she asked.

 

Guy laughed and removed his helmet. He shook out his hair. “Gets a bit sweaty,” he said. “Well, as you can see, I’m working for Tevinter now, same as you.”

 

“I wrote to your mother,” Elowyn said.

 

“My mother declined to pass your letters on to me,” he said. “But after I recovered from the attack, I discovered where you’d gone and followed you. You sure have gotten around! I tracked you down to House Vaellanius, but they told me you’d gone away and didn’t know when you’d return.” He looked at her quizzically.

 

“I’ve just returned. I’m still completely stunned that you’re here! Pinch me?”

 

He pinched her arm playfully. “Ouch! Ok, I believe it – no one pinches like that!” She rubbed her arm, smiling. She hugged him again. It was like hugging a statue. “Do they let you out of here?” she asked.

 

“We have days off, yes. We need to catch up!”

 

“We do! Anytime, Guy, just send a message.” She couldn’t stop staring at him. He was like an apparition.

 

He ruffled her hair. “Where are you off to?”

 

“I’m looking for the medical examiner’s office – am I going the right way?”

 

“Yes, just down the hall there to the left. I’m reluctant to let you go, but I have to patrol outside.”

 

Elowyn stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Seeing you has made my day! I’m walking on air. I can’t wait until we can sit down and chat – I have so much to tell you!”

 

Guy was smiling ear to ear. “You’ve made my day, too. We’ll see each other soon, I promise.” He took his leave of her, and she continued on her way.

 

The Office of the Medical Examiner and a Once-Elegant Neighborhood, Minrathous

Spoiler

Elowyn emerged with a list of possible victims. She hadn’t told the clerk what she was looking for, of course, just mumbled something about healing techniques. Glancing over the list, she discarded a few of the names whose circumstances didn’t fit the profile. Some of those had self-explanatory damage: struck by a falling gondola, for instance, or a lyrium experiment gone horribly wrong.

 

There were three that fit the criteria: they had gone out and not returned home. They were found, insensible, in alleys within a circular radius of the brothel. Relatives had been tending to their bodies. There had been more than three, the clerk explained, but some of them had died of starvation. Time was running out for the ones who were left.

 

Before she’d left, Caius had told her he wanted to be involved in her search. But he was gone – she couldn’t blame him, since she’d been away so long without any sign of returning. She thought perhaps she should have a message sent to him, but shook her head: he had more pressing matters than the whereabouts of his thirty-first apprentice. She touched the ring he’d given her and hoped she’d know if he needed her. Then she laughed at herself at the thought that she had anything to offer him. Perhaps whatever she discovered about the mage’s traps would be useful in some fashion.

 

The first victim on her list was a middle-aged woman. Her family lived in a somewhat unfashionable part of the city. It was a neighborhood of formerly-grand houses that were gradually falling into disrepair. The wealthy and powerful had moved on, leaving behind those who maintained the family fortunes only with difficulty.

 

The Tarpeia family home reflected the misfortune of its inhabitants: it had a forlorn, gloomy aspect. The paint was peeling, and the shutters hung crookedly. Elowyn eyed the front steps dubiously, worried they might collapse. She made her way carefully to the door and raised the dragon-headed knocker, letting it fall with a bang that echoed through the house.

 

She had almost given up waiting when the door was opened by an elderly servant who stood there, looking mutely at Elowyn, sorrow and weariness etched in his face.

 

“I’m here from the medical office,” Elowyn extemporized, “to check on Fabia Tarpeia.” The servant gestured for her to come inside, closed the door, and led her up a winding staircase to a darkened room. The house reminded Elowyn of the mage’s residence in his dream: forlorn, empty, a house that echoed with ghosts.

 

The servant cleared his throat and gestured to a wasted figure lying on a bed. “How long has she been like this?” Elowyn asked.

 

“Mistress has been in this state for several weeks, Ser. The healers have attempted to sustain her, but I fear her time is almost at an end.”

 

“Could you tell me how you found her in this state?” Elowyn asked.

 

“It was shortly after the death of her young daughter,” the servant said. “Mistress was distraught. She began going for long walks alone. She insisted we not accompany her. She didn’t return home one night, and we alerted the city guards. They found her like this. She hasn’t woken up.” The servant had trouble composing himself: his voice trembled. Elowyn wondered what would happen to him if his mistress died. She put her hand on his arm and squeezed it reassuringly.

 

“I’m going to try to find out what happened to her. I can’t make any guarantees. If you could give me a few moments alone with her, I need to conduct an examination.” Elowyn didn’t want the servant hanging around when she disappeared into the Fade. The servant looked at her doubtfully, but Elowyn smiled kindly at him, projecting calm, mentally encouraging him to go. It seemed to work, because he gave a sigh and exited the room.

 

Elowyn stepped into the Fade. She was sure that if Fabia was indeed a victim of the evil mage, she’d be dreaming. But would she be nearby, or did the mage keep his prisoners somewhere else? She didn’t think he’d lived at the brothel. She would have to find out where his quarters were.

 

In the Fade, the house was beautiful and grand and filled with candlelight. Elowyn opened the door and stepped into Fabia’s dream. Elowyn could hear people conversing, the sound of a party, laughter. A little girl ran up to her and took her hand. “Mama, let me show you what uncle brought! It’s the most marvelous present!”

 

The girl pulled her along, running down the stairs and into a drawing room. She gestured toward the mantelpiece over an ornate fireplace. “Look!” she said, gesturing toward a music box that sat on the mantel.

 

Elowyn moved closer and examined the music box. It was in the shape of festival tent with tiny flags waving from the conical roof. Inside were delicate figures, men and women dancing. But the music box was silent, the figures still.

 

The girl tugged on Elowyn’s sleeve. “Find the key!” she said. Elowyn looked at the girl, at her curls and ribbons and big shining eyes. “Find the key!” she repeated, her eyes growing bigger, filling Elowyn’s vision, and Elowyn found herself back in the room with the unconscious woman.

[Serelir]

Tarpeia Residence and the Cemetery, Minrathous

Spoiler

Elowyn left the bedroom and found the servant hovering in the hallway. “Could you tell me if there’s anything in the house that was precious to your Mistress? Perhaps some item that belonged to her daughter?”

 

The servant thought for a moment. “Her clothes and toys are still in her room, exactly as they were when…” he hesitated. “There is something… she had a musicbox. I can show you.”

 

The servant led her down the stairs and into a drawing room, just as in Fabia’s dream, yet motes of dust danced in the sunlight filtering through the shutters. A musicbox rested on the mantelpiece, its tiny figures frozen, unmoving.

 

“This was Cloelia’s most precious possession. Dwarven-made. Her uncle brought it for her.”

 

“Is there a key?” Elowyn asked, holding her breath.

 

“It was buried with her. The musicbox has been silent since she passed away.”

 

“Could you tell me where she lies?”

 

“She is in the family vault, at the old graveyard.”

 

“Thank you, I’ll be back, I promise. Have hope!” Elowyn told the servant. He didn’t look convinced.

 

***

There were probably laws against breaking into family vaults. She hadn’t wanted to ask the family servant if she could violate Cloelia’s eternal rest. With Vel gone, Elowyn needed the help of another rogue. She sent a message to Caradoc and was relieved when he agreed to meet her at the burying ground. She hadn’t been a good friend to him, first by leaving his employer, then disappearing without a word.

 

He was leaning against the cemetery gates when she arrived. A wind was blowing up from the north, bringing with it the promise of a thunderstorm. Elowyn couldn’t help smiling when she saw him: he was not only gorgeous, but he had style and the attitude to go with it.

 

“You look well!” she told him.

 

“Long time, no see, missy,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Elowyn blushed. “So, what trouble are you cooking up for me this time?”

 

“A little breaking and entering. It should be right up your alley!”

 

“Dare I ask what this is about? Grave-robbing, by any chance?”

 

“Not exactly. It’s a little hard to explain.”

 

“I can be discreet!”

 

“Ok, follow me, I’ll tell you while we’re walking.” Elowyn gave Caradoc a bare-bones synopsis of her encounter with the mage while she led the way toward the Tarpeia Vault. She left out most of the details about what the mage had done to her, and merely alluded to needing some time away from Minrathous to explain her absence. Caradoc raised his eyebrows and whistled.

 

“So it’s not exactly stealing,” she said. “I’m sure that Cloelia’s spirit, wherever it is, would want her mother freed from the musicbox.”

 

“You know, I’d have a difficult time believing all this. But with mages, it seems that anything is possible.”

 

“It does seem that way, doesn’t it?” replied Elowyn, wondering how flabbergasted Caradoc would feel if she took him into the Fade and introduced him to a talking tree.

 

Elowyn thought about burial customs as they made their way through the maze of tombstones and vaults. This cemetery was ancient and overflowing with the dead. Elowyn wondered if the city had new burial grounds on the mainland, or if they had turned to ossuaries or cremation. One thing was certain: the rich retained the privilege of laying their loved ones within the walls of the city. She’d never seen such fantastic tombs! The landscape was a paean to death, filled with weeping statues and bouquets of stone. The Tarpeia vault, though somewhat cracked and neglected, bristled with leering gargoyles and wyverns.

 

Stormclouds scudded across the sky. Elowyn looked doubtfully at the gloom and hoped they wouldn’t be caught in a downpour. Caradoc got out his picks and began working to open the lock. “It’s so rusted that it might be better just to break it off,” he said. “Doesn’t look like anyone has checked on it in years.”

 

“Just give it your best shot, and if we have to break it, so be it.” Elowyn kept watch while Caradoc worked, but the cemetery was completely deserted. “This must be the quietest place on Minrathous” she thought. A whirlwind of dry leaves and dust blew between the tombs.

 

“Got it!” said Caradoc as the lock clicked open. The door emitted a shriek as they eased it open. “I hope nobody heard that!” said Caradoc, embarrassed at the noise.

 

“Some stealthy rogue you are!” Elowyn laughed.

 

“Don’t know why you couldn’t just have done your little trick and stepped through the wall,” he countered.

 

“Because I didn’t want to end up in the wall,” replied Elowyn. “It’s not so easy when you can’t see where you’re going.”

 

“It’s a wonder that doesn’t happen more often! Arms and legs sticking out of walls everywhere.”

 

“Maybe when we hear noises in a wall, it’s not actually rats,” said Elowyn.

 

“Ewww,” Caradoc shivered, “I’m going to think about that the next time I hear scuttling in the walls.”

 

Elowyn kindled veilfire and lit a couple of torches inside the tomb. Burial chambers lined the walls, but none were marked “Cloelia.” Her chamber must lie in the darkness below. A set of stairs led down. She and Caradoc looked at each other, neither wanting to go first.

 

“After you, my dear,” said Caradoc mischievously.

 

“Gee, thanks!” Elowyn replied. “How gracious of you.”

 

“But of course! I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

The veilfire cast eerie shadows on the walls as Elowyn made her way carefully down, her steps echoing off the stone walls. A larger chamber opened through an archway, its walls lined with tombs. At the center stood a pedestal on which rested a child-sized coffin. Elowyn brought her light close to it to read the inscription. She noticed Caradoc looking uneasily at the shadows and touching the hilts of his daggers.

 

“This is the right one!” said Elowyn, grasping the lid of the tomb. She began to push it open when a crack of thunder made them both jump. Elowyn dropped her torch in surprise, and they were plunged into darkness.

[Serelir]

Tarpeia Family Crypt, Minrathous

Spoiler

In the silence following the thunderclap, Elowyn felt things moving around her. She quickly lit veilfire with shaking hands and shrieked as it revealed dozens of pairs of eyes staring at her from out of the gloom. She started backing away toward the stairs as corpses rose from their tombs and shambled toward her.

 

“Caradoc?” she called weakly.

 

“Get behind me! They’re slow – I’ll take care of them,” she heard him say from somewhere behind her.

 

“Uh, should I blast them with some fire?”

 

“Space is too small – you’ll fry us both.” She saw a flicker as he dashed in front of her and behind one of the corpses. Its head toppled to the ground with a smack. He’d sliced through its neck so fast that she didn’t even see his blade move. She came to her senses and cast a barrier over them both. The corpses were converging on Caradoc. His form blurred as he sliced a swathe through them. Elowyn ran over to Cloelia’s casket and made a quick search for the key – might as well get what she came for.

 

The key was suspended from a delicate chain around the body’s neck. Elowyn carefully unclasped it and started to pull it away when there came another booming clap of thunder. The vault shook, and dust rained down on her head. A strange light was coalescing on the other side of the chamber.

 

“Caradoc, we have to get out of here!” she yelled.

 

“Coming!” he shouted, fighting his way through writhing bodies.

 

In the midst of the light, a gigantic shadowy shape took form. “Revenant!” shouted Caradoc.

 

There came an eerie voice, “Who disturbs the slumber of the Tarpeia?”

 

Caradoc and Elowyn scrambled for the stairs, but a force took hold of them, pulling them back into the room. Elowyn slid along the stone floor, trying to grab something to hang onto. Caradoc drew a small knife from his boot and threw it at the revenant. It stuck right in the ghastly creature’s empty eye socket, but it simply reached up, plucked it out and tossed it aside.

 

“Maker’s pants!” cursed Caradoc just as the revenant blasted him with lightning from a massive sword. Elowyn channeled mana through her staff, healing Caradoc and renewing his barrier. The revenant turned its menacing, empty gaze toward her. She struck two corpses down with her staff. “Wait!” she called out, “We are here to help your family, not disturb them!”

 

“You came here to steal,” rumbled the revenant.

 

“No, let me explain! One of you is trapped between worlds, neither living nor dead! I needed Cloelia’s key to free her mother’s spirit!”

 

The revenant held up its bony hands, bringing the shuffling corpses to a stop. “I’m listening,” it said. Elowyn would have laughed about having a conversation with a revenant if her blood hadn’t been freezing in her veins.

 

“Cloelia’s spirit came to me and bade me free her mother, whose body withers without her spirit.” Elowyn held up the key. “I need this to open the trap. Please, I mean no insult to your kin. If I don’t hurry, Fabia will be joining her daughter here in this dark tomb.”

 

The revenant came drifting toward Elowyn. She swallowed and stood, trying not to shake. It loomed over her, giving off a chill aura that penetrated through her clothes and gripped her stomach with fear. Caradoc stood frozen, his mouth open, daggers ready.

 

The revenant laid both hands on her, cupping her face, and stared into her eyes, the quick and the dead, face to face. “Know this: return the key within the week, or I will raise this entire graveyard and hunt you down.”

 

“Yes, ser,” said Elowyn, her voice clear despite her trembling.

 

“Go then. Free her and return.”

 

Elowyn grabbed Caradoc’s hand and ran out of the vault into the thunderstorm.

 

[Serelir]

Tarpeia Residence, Minrathous

Spoiler

Despite Elowyn’s reassurances that opening the music box was unlikely to be dangerous, Caradoc insisted on accompanying her to the Tarpeia residence.

 

“You’re the only person I know who could talk their way out of a battle with a revenant,” Caradoc said drily.

 

“They’re the most intelligent of the Possessed. Well, except for Abominations, and only some of those are capable of reason,” she responded, not blinking an eye.

 

“I would have shrieked like a little girl if that thing had touched me,” exclaimed Caradoc.

“You would have shrieked like a grown man,” retorted Elowyn, narrowing her eyes. She’d still been a little girl when she’d learned to stop screaming.

 

“Nice place,” said Caradoc, observing the dilapidated state of the house. The servant let them in, and Caradoc distracted the servant while Elowyn went to the drawing room. “Here goes,” she thought, inserting the key and turning it. The tiny figures began to dance as the first notes played. Elowyn stepped through the Veil.

 

Cloelia was waiting for her. “This way!” she shouted, taking Elowyn’s hand and leading her out to the garden. A large gazebo stood at the center filled with dancing couples. “Be careful,” whispered Cloelia, “He’s in there, dancing with her.”

 

Elowyn knew the mage was dead, so there must be a demon impersonating him, called into being by his powerful magic and left here at this eternal garden party. Cloelia let go of her hand and hid. Elowyn made her way toward the dancers.

 

She could never forget his face: it had been burned into her memory throughout her ordeal inside the book. He was dancing with a beautiful woman wearing a golden dress. It could only be Fabia, doomed to dance here while her body withered and died. Elowyn could only imagine how he had gotten her into his clutches. Had she sought him out, hoping the pain of his ministrations would drown out the pain of her child’s death?

 

The demon’s eyes met Elowyn’s as he whirled Fabia around. He smiled an evil smile. As Elowyn drew closer, he pulled Fabia close to his body and ran his snaky tongue along her throat. The other party guests drew back, leaving the adversaries in the center, Fabia like a plaything between them.

 

“This is your last dance, demon,” said Elowyn.

 

“Perhaps I shall take a new partner when this one wears out,” taunted the demon. He ripped the gleaming satin of Fabia’s dress and sank his teeth into her breast. If Elowyn didn’t hurry, he would kill Fabia’s spirit before her body died. But Elowyn would have to be careful: she had to disable the demon without hurting Fabia.

 

She reached out her hands and shaped. Vines burst from the floor or the gazebo and twined around the demon’s body. “Ah,” he shivered as spikes grew out of the vines and pierced his flesh, “The pain is exquisite!” His claws lengthened, and he pressed them into Fabia’s body. Blood stained the golden fabric. He was going to kill her, and Elowyn would fail, and that meant the revenant would lay waste to Minrathous with an army of Undead. Elowyn gritted her teeth and cast. The vines burst into flame. She ran forward and grabbed Fabia, ripping her from the demon’s grasp. She cast a quick healing spell, and Fabia’s wounds began to close. But the demon wasn’t finished.

 

It shook off the ashes of the burning vines and came toward Elowyn wreathed in a halo of flame. She prepared to cast a cone of cold, but it sunk its burning claws through her shoulders and drew her into its fiery embrace. She screamed at the smell of her own flesh burning.

 

Suddenly, she was released, and the demon staggered back. It twisted around furiously, trying to reach something stuck in its back. Cloelia stood there, a smile of satisfaction on her face. “I stuck him with a cake server!” she chirped delightedly. The demon dissolved into a pile of ashes. Cloelia clapped her hands. “It was lemon cake!”

 

Elowyn hugged the girl, then ran over to Fabia, who was trying to stand up, shaking her head as if coming out of a daze.

 

“We need to get you back to your body,” Elowyn urged. She and Cloelia took Fabia’s hands and ran with her back inside the house and upstairs to the bedroom. Fabia gasped when she saw her body lying there, barely visible beneath the sheet, it had so wasted from starvation.

 

“How can I leave you, my darling?” Fabia said to Cloelia, tears pouring down her face.

 

“Mama, I need you to live so that someone remembers me. Every time you see my favorite flowers or play my music box, I will be with you. Please mama, live for me. Then, when you have lived a full life, you can come tell me about all the things you have seen, all the adventures you’ve had. Please do this for me.”

 

“Oh my child,” moaned Fabia, holding Cloelia tight. “You never had a chance to grow up, to love, to have children of your own. I missed you so much, I felt I couldn’t go on. But now that I know you are waiting for me, I will live for you. I will see you in the waves of the ocean and hear you in birdsong. Every time I eat lemon cake, I will remember your bravery. Then I will pass across the Veil, and the two of us will be together.”

 

Whether little Cloelia was merely a spirit with her shape or the real thing, it didn’t matter. Holding Cloelia in her arms gave Fabia the courage to go on living. Fabia turned toward her body and stroked her forehead. Then she was gone, and Elowyn stepped back across the Veil. She lengthened the wick of the lamp and saw that color had come back into Fabia’s cheeks. She began to stir, and her eyes opened. Elowyn took her hand and squeezed it, and Fabia looked into her eyes and smiled.

[Serelir]

City Cemetery, Minrathous

Spoiler

Elowyn returned alone to the cemetery. If anything were to go wrong, best to sacrifice only herself and not drag a friend into such a dangerous situation. The storm had cleared the air. Leaves danced in the clear sunlight. A parliament of rooks strutted around the graves, cackling and chuckling. Elowyn had left the Tarpeia vault unlocked, figuring any trespassers wouldn’t get past the thing that waited inside. She slipped through the door.

 

All was quiet. Colored light streamed through the stained glass window. It depicted the Tarpeia family arms. Elowyn imagined what Minrathous had been like during the Imperium’s days of glory, when the buildings stood straight and new, uncracked, when the families stood proud. Had the Magisters really reached the Golden City and started the Blights? Then she thought about how the new Imperium had crushed her ancestors and laid waste to their beautiful cities. How she longed to travel back in time and see her people before they had been brought so low.

 

She made her way down the stairs into the darkness. It wrapped around her like a cloak. She found some comfort in dark places. She had no fear of the Undead this time. She had accomplished her mission and wore the key on a chain around her neck. She stood by Cloelia’s tomb, remembering her beautiful face, her sweet, sad words to her mother. A tear ran down her cheek and dropped onto the stone. She felt a cold hand on her shoulder and shivered.

 

She turned around, looking into the hollow eyes of the revenant. Whose body did the demon inhabit? Did it contain any memories of its life, or was it an empty vessel? The demon touched her hair. It seemed so alive to her. She wondered about demons and spirits and whether that which animated living people was of the same essence as the beings in the Fade.

 

The revenant spoke, “Mage, you have kept your word. I sensed when the spirit of Fabia Tarpeia was freed. You have done a great service to our family, and you shall be rewarded.”

 

“I have the key here. I’ll return it to Cloelia’s tomb,” said Elowyn, reaching up to unclasp the chain.

 

The revenant grasped her arm, stopping her. He reached out and touched the key. Elowyn felt a sharp pain as the key burned her flesh.

 

“This is my gift to you: call me, and I shall come,” the revenant intoned. Then he disappeared. The chain fall to the floor. Elowyn felt the hollow of her throat, right where the revenant had laid a bony finger against the key. The flesh there was tender and burned.

 

“Thank you,” she whispered into the darkness.

[Serelir]

Vaellanius Manor, Minrathous

Spoiler

The second name on Elowyn’s list was Fulgentius Critonius, a soporatus who lived above a pub called the Magister’s Britches. She was about to go investigate when Caius called her into his study. He stood by his desk, a paper in his hand. He glanced at Elowyn and cleared his throat. He actually seemed a little nervous.

 

Elowyn realized her heart was beating faster and took a deep breath. She fell back on formality to steady her nerves. “Yes, Master?”

 

“In light of your recent service to me and my family, I have decided to increase your salary and reward you with a change in title. You shall henceforth be known as my First Apprentice. This title carries with it a spacious private apartment.”

 

Elowyn tried to mask her surprise. “That is a most generous reward, Master.”

 

“House Vaellanius values its loyal members,” replied Caius. Was he blushing a little? He seemed a bit tongue-tied. “I was very glad you returned to us safe and sound,” he added, somewhat hoarsely.

 

"I needed some time to think about my situation," she said.

 

“About that… and your time away. This mark on your neck…”

 

It was apparent to Elowyn that Caius wanted to know, and as her Master, he deserved to know, but there was so much to tell! “Master, I promise I will fill you in on everything that has happened, but there’s an urgent situation: do you remember when we talked about the spirits trapped in objects? Not spirits from the Fade, but spirits of people from this side of the Veil. You asked me to take you with me when I searched for them.”

 

“Yes, I remember. Have you found any?”

 

“I did – I went to see the Medical Examiner. I’m afraid you were away, and I… well, I was able to free one of the trapped spirits myself.” Elowyn touched the mark on her throat, “Without dire consequences.” A white lie, Elowyn thought; nonetheless, the revenant could be useful. Caius had lowered his brows, so Elowyn rushed on, “But if you’re not too terribly busy, perhaps you could help me with the next victim?” Elowyn almost laughed at the thought of Caius not being busy, considering he was dealing with not only his usual political machinations, but the assassination attempt as well.

 

Caius gave her a look that spoke a multitude of thoughts. Elowyn expected that he was upset with her for once again putting herself in danger without consulting him. However, he simply said, “Of course. Shall we go? You can fill me in on the way.”

 

“Now? This minute? Ah, okay, yes. We need to go to a, um, pub,” Elowyn mumbled, “called the, uhhhh, Magister’s Britches…” she trailed off, her face hot.

 

To her surprise, the Master burst out laughing. “Well then!” he said, “It’s a good thing I’m wearing some today! I expect a free drink out of this.”

 

Elowyn laughed along with him, blushing a little at the thought of her Master without his britches. “Master, perhaps it would be better if we tried to blend in? I’m not sure a Magister has ever actually visited this pub – it might cause a commotion.”

 

The Master looked her up and down. “I expect they would be too busy looking at you.”

 

Elowyn’s face grew even hotter. “I borrowed some of my servant’s clothes last time,” she explained.

 

“Then I shall do the same. Meet me at the back entrance. We’ll make a subtle exit.”

[Serelir]

Minrathous

Spoiler

Elowyn smiled to see Caius dressed as a simple laborer. Instead of his splendid black robes embroidered with silver dragons, he wore a loose muslin shirt, knee britches – yes, britches! – and a pair of scuffed boots. She had dressed herself like the proverbial kitchen ginger: short-sleeved muslin chemise, long, loose skirt, and a working woman’s corset made of sturdy cloth.

 

He grinned at her and, surprisingly, took her hand. “I thought we’d pose as a servant couple, out for a night on the town.”

 

“I wonder if anyone will recognize you?” Elowyn wondered.

 

“What do they say? The clothes maketh the man,” Caius responded, echoing some venerable sage.

 

How different it was to walk the streets of Minrathous as an ordinary person. Elowyn realized she’d been carrying a weight on her shoulders: duty to her house, fear for its members’ safety, the burden of responsibility. She and Caius watched a Magister’s coach go by, surrounded by guards protecting its occupants from the rabble. She knew that if she really had been a soporata, she would face a different set of prejudices and expectations. But for one night, it was a lark to see how the other half lived.

 

If she admitted it to herself, it was also thrilling to hold her Master’s hand and pretend they were a couple. She couldn’t imagine herself as a Magister’s wife, but she could imagine some other place and time where they could have been humble farmers or craftspeople. Caius, too, seemed lighter of spirit than she’d ever seen him, chuckling and joking about the people going by.

 

As they waited to cross a busy thoroughfare, he turned serious. “These scars on your throat – just say the word, and they can be painlessly removed.”

 

“You don’t fancy my scars?” asked Elowyn. “I notice that you still have yours, from the war.”

 

Caius looked chagrined. “You are just as beautiful as ever, of course. I thought to offer, in case your marks reawakened painful memories.”

 

“Do you remember when I met you in your dream and removed the shards of pain from your body?” asked Elowyn. It felt a bit dangerous to openly acknowledge what had passed between them in dreams, but Caius nodded, and she forged ahead. “I considered whether I could remove those memories completely.”

 

“You can do that? Remove memories?” Caius asked. Elowyn didn’t like the calculating look in his eye. She could almost see the plots unfolding in his head.

 

“It may be possible. But I decided that these painful memories are necessary. Without them, we would be like the Tranquil: incapable of feeling. Without bad memories, we would keep making the same mistakes over and over.” She watched his face as he considered her words.

 

He squeezed her hand. “I understand. You wish to keep those scars as reminders.”

 

“We are composed of our experiences, both good and bad. Without them, we’d have no empathy or compassion for the sorrows of others. But this is a bit deep!” Elowyn laughed at herself.

 

“Your observations often give me a perspective I hadn’t considered before,” he said, smiling at her.

 

“I will take that as a compliment!” she laughed.

[Serelir]

The Magister's Britches, Minrathous

Spoiler

The Magister’s Britches was a cheerful pub decorated with baskets of flowers and a sign on which was painted a pair of flying pants. Caius examined the sign, stroking his goatee. “So how are we going to approach this?” he asked Elowyn.

 

“Let me do the talking. Elves are skilled at confidence games.”

 

The Magister contemplated her with a gleam in his eye. “So that’s why I let you get away with so much! It’s an elf trick.”

 

Elowyn decided to play along. “All part of my plan to get you out for a drink.”

 

“An elaborate ruse!”

 

“Only the best for you, Master.” She led him inside. A few patrons turned to look, but Caius and Elowyn’s disguises proved effective. A serving woman approached them.

 

“What kin I getcha?” she asked.

 

“We’re looking for a man named Fulgentius Critonius. This is his brother, Priscus.” Caius raised an eyebrow at her, and she stepped on his boot and pressed down. “We received news that he was in poor health,” she added.

 

“Lemme get the inkeep,” said the woman. She returned with a portly man who wiped his hands on his apron before addressing them.

 

“So you received my letter finally?” he asked. Elowyn nodded. The innkeep went on, “He’s been like this for awhile now. Went up to his room with a friend one night and didn’t come down in the morning. Room’s paid up through the end of the month, but I was losing hope that his family would come for him. We had the herbalist in, but she hasn’t been able to wake him. Strangest thing! Here, right this way.”

 

The innkeep led them upstairs to a room at the end of the corridor. It was simply-furnished, but clean and spacious enough. Fulgentius lay in the bed, unmoving, much the same as Fabia.

 

“You said he was keeping company with a friend before this happened?” Elowyn asked.

 

“Sure, they come in a few times. Was up here singing together. Fulgentius was fond of his ale. He had me import it special from Ferelden.”

 

“Is this all of his property?” asked Elowyn, glancing around.

 

“Aye, his clothes are in that trunk there. Nothing’s been touched, I can promise you that. He was a good customer – always paid his rent on time. We was right sorry about what happened to ‘im.” There wasn’t much in the room – just the trunk, a pair of shoes and a satchel containing a wallet with a few coins and a miniature of a dog.

 

Caius had walked over to the fireplace and was examining a stein sitting on the mantel. “Is this his?” he asked.

 

“Aye, he’d drink from no other. Brought it wi’ ‘im, he did, sure enough,” said the innkeep. “Funny thing though – the cap is stuck tight on that vessel. Never had a problem with it before.”

 

Caius picked up the stein and shook it – there didn’t seem to be anything inside, but the cap wouldn’t budge. The stein felt unusually heavy though.

 

“Well, I’ll leave you to pack things up in here – I expect ye’ll be moving him?” asked the innkeep.

 

“Yes, we will,” promised Elowyn. “Thank you for taking such good care of him.”

 

The innkeep went back downstairs. Caius placed the stein in Elowyn’s hands. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.

 

“I am! But how do we get it open?”

 

Caius set the stein on the table. He tried a few spells on it, but the cap stuck tight.

 

“Careful!” warned Elowyn. “Breaking it might be the end of him.”

 

“The innkeep said they’d been singing. I have an idea!” said Caius. “Do you know any drinking songs?”

 

“Err, I’m afraid that’s not my area of expertise,” Elowyn confessed. “We had only a little wine with dinner in the Circle.” She tried to imagine the Orlesian mages singing a rowdy song and laughed at the absurd image.

 

“I know a few. Shall I try some? You can join in on the chorus. But I may break your lovely ears with my voice.”

 

“I’m sure you sing beautifully!” said Elowyn encouragingly. Caius had a deep, resonant voice. Elowyn was curious to hear him sing – this was a side of her Master she’d never seen before.

 

“You’d best reserve judgment until you hear me,” said Caius. “Alright, let’s try this popular tune,” he replied, launching into song:

 

There was a man of Tevinter

And a very fine Vintner was he

Of grapes he had plenty

Of slaves two and twenty

And pretty maids one, two, three!

 

Elowyn joined in on the last verse with relish. But the stein was still stuck.

 

“There’s something missing,” said Caius. He stuck his head out the door and called for the innkeeper.

 

“Yes, what can I do fer ya?” asked the innkeep.

 

“Bring us a jug of my brother’s ale and two glasses,” said Caius. “Need to loosen the vocal cords a bit,” he said to Elowyn. The innkeep returned and poured a glass for each of them, then went out again. Caius handed a glass to Elowyn. “Manaveris Dracona!” he said, raising his glass and taking a swig.

 

“Manaveris Dracona!” said Elowyn, taking a sip and trying not to make a face at the unfamiliar beverage.

 

“Ready?” asked Caius. Elowyn nodded, and they launched into song again, drinking each time they finished a verse.

 

There was a man of Tevinter

And a very fine Vintner was he

Of grapes he had plenty

Of slaves two and twenty

And pretty maids one, two, three!

 

Oh, the jolly Tevinter Vintner

Drove into town one dee

His cart loaded high

With casks to the sky

And pretty maids, one, two, three!

 

The jolly Tevinter Vintner

Went down the road by the sea

But a whale jumped out

And ate up the cart

And the pretty maids one, two, three!

 

The jolly Tevinter Vintner

A whale of a dinner was he

“The end is near

So I’ll be of good cheer

And drink with maids one, two, three!”

 

The jolly Tevinter Vintner

The luckiest man was he

The whale choked on his dinner

And belched up the vintner

And pretty maids one, two, three!

 

By the end of the song, Elowyn was feeling decidedly giddy. But the stein’s cap remained stuck. “How many drinking songs are there?” she asked Caius.

 

“Oh, tons!” he exclaimed, belching. Elowyn giggled. Caius sang a few more ditties, to no avail. By this time, the room was starting to spin slowly for Elowyn.

 

“Where did you learn these songs?” asked Elowyn, appalled at some of the bawdy lyrics.

 

“Army days,” said Caius. He frowned at some memory. “Here’s one I used to sing with the fellows,” he said, beginning a mournful air.

 

When I was a young lad I fancied a lass

As bonny and bright as could be

Our troth we swore

Then she went off to the war

All along the Shores of Seheron

 

All through the summer

I prayed for my lass

To return to my waiting arms

But my love lost her life

Amidst torment and strife

On the blood-stained Shores of Seheron

 

Now my love’s grave lies shallow

The grass it grows green

And waves in the winds off the sea

The war goes on

And I am alone

On the desolate Shores of Seheron

 

It’s been many a year since my love went to war

And many are those who have fallen

But the love in my heart

Will never depart

As I walk the Shores of Seheron

 

Elowyn wiped her eyes as the last note faded. “Aye, that’s a sad one,” said Caius, blinking back what looked suspiciously like moisture.

 

“Damn thish cap!” said Elowyn, tugging uselessly on the lid of the stein. Caius threw an arm over her shoulder and leaned his head against hers as they both contemplated the stubborn object.

 

“Did that man say my bother was F’reldan?” asked Caius.

 

“Fugnetiush?” slurred Elowyn, “Thash not F’reldan… name.”

 

“Who elsh would drink thish shlop?” asked Caius, waving his glass around. A little bit of ale flew out and landed on the sick man in the bed. Elowyn was sure she saw him twitch, but the whole room had started to jump a little at the edges.

 

Caius rubbed his head, causing his hair to stick up all over. “F’reldan song,” he said. He began to sing again, and Elowyn’s soprano joined in on the chorus:

 

All ye lusty lads gather round, gather round

Gather round the wheel of cheese

And I’ll tell you a story

Full of hope and of glory

Shining like the Golden Brew

 

Oh the Brew, the Brew, the Golden Brew

The only brew for me!

Away with your spirits

Your wine and your claret

And give me the Golden Brew!

 

Now in the Blessed years

Lived a man without peers

A man of mighty thew

He brought in the Dragon

By raising a flagon

Of the magnificent Golden Brew

 

Oh the Brew, the Brew…

 

Our proud land was flayed

By the Knights of Orlais

To our freedom we bid adieu

Then brave Maric Theirin

Challenged evil Meghren

And killed him in a duel

 

Oh the Brew, the Brew…

 

Ferelden lives without fear

Of a rogue Chevalier

To King Theirin we pay our due

Meghren’s out on his ass

So we’ll raise a glass

Of the beautiful Golden Brew!

 

They both gazed, bleary-eyed with astonishment, as the cap popped open.

[Serelir]

I'm taking a little break while family comes to visit, but Elowyn has more work to do so I will be back!

[Uccio]

Looking forward to it.

[RoughTumble]

Is your unedited work available anywhere else online?  You've done the right thing to censor for the BSN, but I've been mature for a long time and would like to read the uncensored version if available.

[Abelas Forever!]

I like your story very much! It's very interesting and it flows nicely. I really like how Elowyn makes mistakes and how they affect the story such as when Elowyn bought a ticket to a slave ship in the beginning of the story. I also liked a lot of the part where Elowyn became a tree.

 

I'm hoping that you will continue this some day

[Serelir]

Thanks for reading my story! I wanted to stop by and let you know I haven't abandoned Elowyn. There were some things going on in my life that made it difficult to write, and I've been working on a completely different story set in our present world. It's so much more difficult to write without magic!

 

Elowyn and Caius are still having adventures in my head, and I will get back to writing them down. In the meantime, I fooled around with the BDO character creator and made some images of them, just for fun:

 

Elowyn

 

Caius

 

 

Is your unedited work available anywhere else online?  You've done the right thing to censor for the BSN, but I've been mature for a long time and would like to read the uncensored version if available.

You know, I've written a lot of smut about this cast of characters, and I go through periods of extreme embarrassment about it. It's like being possessed by a Dionysian frenzy! So it's not available at the moment, though I may change my mind. Thank you for inquiring though. It does look terrible censored. Let's roleplay and pretend that the Magisterium clerks got hold of it and snipped it all up.

[Serelir]

Inside the Stein, aka The Fade

Spoiler

“So,” said Caius, “Does he come out of the stein now?”

 

“Not that shimple, unfortunately,” replied Elowyn. “We have to go in.”

 

“In? It’s a bit small, don’t you agree? For the both of us.”

 

“Tight fit. We’ll have to snuggle up!” Elowyn winked. She moved close to Caius, who, misinterpreting her advance, wrapped his arms around her. She giggled and took him into the stein.

 

He gazed around himself in wonder. Elowyn realized she probably shouldn’t have attempted that maneuver while tipsy, but they seemed to be in the right place: the figures decorating the outside of the stein were brought to life in the Fade. There was a woman playing hurdy-gurdy, and seated at a table was a little group of card players. Elowyn recognized Vel and Galatea and Caradoc. Strange.

 

“Err, Master, do you see Vel and Galatea over there?”

 

“How’d they get in here?” asked Caius, scratching his head.

 

“Must’ve plucked those images from our minds, eh?” asked Elowyn. The hurdy-gurdy music was making her want to dance. Her feet seemed to move of their own volition, and she started spinning a circle with her arms out, lost her balance, and stumbled into Caius, who caught her.

 

“Whoopsy daisy!” he exclaimed.

 

“Maybe we should have shobered up firsht?” asked Elowyn, blinking.

 

“Nonshense! I’m perfeckly shober!” declared Caius. He led her unsteadily over to the table. The card players looked up, grinned, and made room for them.

 

“Deal me in!” shouted Caius. His gaze fixed on an unknown man across the table, whose visage paled when he appeared to recognize Caius. “Frank Crichton!” Caius thundered.

 

The man jumped, knocking his chair over. “Who let you in here?” he said, his voice quavering. Elowyn looked questioningly from Caius to the man.

 

“Sit down,” said Caius, his voice menacingly quiet. The man righted his chair and took his seat again, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. “What are we playing?” asked Caius.

 

Galatea sat back in her seat and regarded Caius. “Dubi. What about the girl?”

 

Elowyn gave Caius a worried look. She was good at card games, but too tiny to win a drinking game against shemlens… or demons, rather. Did demons get drunk? What if Caius lost? Would they both be trapped here at the eternal gaming table?

 

“The girl deals,” said Caius. Galatea passed him the cards, and he handed them to Elowyn. She wondered if she could shape the cards and get them out of here more quickly. But the demons would probably sense what she was doing. She tried to keep her hands steady as she shuffled and cut the cards, then dealt five to each player.

 

Each player took turns showing one of their cards, then bets were made. Caradoc showed a Jack of Pies. “Two Pair,” he said.

 

“Hmm, I’ll grant that,” said Galatea. “Credo.” Frank and Vel both said, “Credo,” then it was Caius’ turn. He turned his black gaze on the Caradoc demon, and a sly smile twitched the corner of his mouth. “Dubi!” he said with relish. Caradoc laid down his hand. He had only one pair. Galatea, Vel and Frank had to drink. Elowyn gathered up the cards and dealt each player a new hand.

 

Vel’s turn came around. He pushed his hair back and blew out a breath. “I got nothing!” he declared. The demon shot a glance at Elowyn. She was having a difficult time remembering that the card players were not actually her friends. She wondered if Caius saw them the same way she did. She noticed him looking at her as well. She thought Vel was lying, but she felt an illogical compunction against sending a signal to Caius. They were playing against demons, and they needed to win, so why did she feel she needed to be fair?

 

The other players made their guesses. “Credo,” said Caius, and Elowyn winced. But he was right! Vel had to drink.

 

The game went round, with the players getting progressively drunker. Caius lost a few rounds and had to drink, too, but he seemed composed. At one point, Frank burped and slowly slid off his chair onto the floor. Then Caradoc threw his cards into the air, said, “I’m out,” took two steps and collapsed. Eventually, Vel was out, too, and it was down to Caius vs. Galatea. Elowyn could see that Caius’ eyes were bloodshot, and sweat dripped down his forehead. The next hand put a big smile on Galatea’s face. She turned over the Archon of Daggers.  “Full House,” she declared.

 

“Druffalo poop!” said Caius. “Dubi!”

 

Galatea turned over her hand. She had a Full House. Caius had to drink, but instead he turned over his hand, showing two of the same cards as Galatea. “Cheating Demon,” he said menacingly, “This game is over.”

 

Galatea jumped up, her body morphing into a grotesque, distorted version of the real person. It snarled at Caius, its claws lengthening. Caius stood up, a bit unsteadily, and Elowyn prepared to cast a shield. But the demon’s eyes rolled up in its head, and it fell over backwards, out cold.

 

Caius went over to where Frank lay and shook him. “Time to go,” he said, and slapped Frank’s face, trying to wake him up. Elowyn hurried over, anxious to get Frank out of the stein before the demons woke up again. She and Caius each put an arm around Frank and hoisted him up. The three of them walked unsteadily toward the door. Frank started singing. Caius rolled his eyes.

 

Elowyn opened the door, and they stepped out of the Fade and back into the room. With relief, she saw consciousness return to Frank’s body. He sat up suddenly. “Who won?” he asked.

 

“I did,” said Caius. Frank turned to look at him and paled, shrinking back against the wall. “Funny how things work out,” said Caius.

 

“How do you know this man?” asked Elowyn.

 

Caius smiled sardonically. “I’ve been looking for him for a while. Thought he’d slipped my noose. You’re my lucky coin, Elowyn.”

 

She didn’t like the look on Caius’ face. They’d just saved this man, Frank, and she wasn’t anxious to see him dragged into Caius’ torture chamber.

 

“Caius,” she said, putting a hand on his arm.

 

He turned to her. “Don’t worry, little one, once he recovers, he’ll be another arrow in my quiver.” Caius went over to the window and made a gesture. Guards entered the inn and took Frank, aka “Fulgentius” away.

 

“They were there the whole time?” asked Elowyn in consternation.

 

“Of course,” replied Caius, “I didn’t become a Magister by being careless.”

 

“So he’s a spy?” asked Elowyn.

 

“Now he’s my spy,” said Caius. “Come on, let’s go.” He picked up the stein and put it in his robe. Elowyn wondered just how drunk her Master was. He certainly didn’t act like her father, who’d been a maudlin, soppy drunk. Caius seemed sober, but she noticed a slight unsteadiness to his walk.

 

They emerged into the cool night air. Caius put his arm around Elowyn’s shoulder and pulled her close as they walked. “You surprised me, Master. I never knew you were a card shark.”

 

Caius raised an eyebrow at her and cracked a smile. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said “Did you think I was always a stuffy old Magister?”

 

“You’re not old!” said Elowyn hotly.

 

Caius smiled ruefully. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

 

Elowyn blushed, glad the darkness hid her rosy cheeks. She was enjoying having her Master’s arm around her a little too much.

 

“Shortcut,” said Caius as they approached an alley. He steered her into its narrow entrance. Halfway down, he stopped and put both hands on her shoulders. “We need to talk,” he said.

 

“Here?” she asked, her voice unnaturally high. She looked around nervously.

 

“You know how I feel about you,” said Caius.

 

Elowyn swallowed. “Master, we… we can’t. Nazlik…”

 

The Master’s face was very close to hers. He took her chin in his hand. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me,” he demanded.

 

Her troubled gaze met his. “I do want you,” she said slowly, “but… you made a commitment to Nazlik. She told me. And Vel… too many people would be hurt. It… it could also be dangerous, for both of us.”

 

Caius brushed her hair back from her face. His breathing was a little ragged. She could feel the heat from his body. “Do you think I can’t handle a little danger?” he asked, his mouth curving in a smile. He put his hand behind her head and pressed his lips against hers. She felt an answering heat course through her body. She wanted to give in, but she knew it was unwise. He was a little drunk. Maybe he would regret it if he lost control. She tried to push him away.

 

He pressed her back against the wall of the alley, his hands lifting her skirt, his mouth against her throat. Her traitorous heart was telling her to submit, to let him take her right there in the alley. “Master, stop,” she whispered raggedly. He let go of her reluctantly. She bit her lip.

 

He stroked her cheek and looked at her gently. “You know that you have only to say yes, and I am yours.”

 

She leaned her head on his hand and blinked back tears. “It’s wrong,” she said, her voice trembling. “It will destroy us.”

 

“We are strong,” he said and kissed the top of her head. “I will prove it to you.”

 

He tucked her arm in his and led her back to the Manor.

[Serelir]

Vaellanius Manor, Minrathous

Spoiler

Elowyn was heading for the training grounds when she saw Publius coming towards her. There was no avoiding him. She braced herself for one of his unpleasant jibes. To her surprise, he gave her a big grin and asked her how her day was going.

 

“Are you okay?” she asked suspiciously.

 

“I’m excellent!” he declared.

 

“Any particular reason for your good mood?” she asked. He obviously had some good news – he was practically bursting with it.

 

“You’ve heard about my engagement?” he asked.

 

“Umm, no, I’m afraid I’ve been a bit preoccupied.”

 

“Miriel and I are contracted to marry!” he said, beaming.

 

“Miriel… Vaellanius? Wow, congratulations! So, part of the family now? That is good news.” Elowyn wondered how Miriel felt about it, but she wasn’t about to bring Publius down – his friendly behavior was a welcome change. Funny how Tevinter was all about contracts: slave contracts, marriage contracts, immigration papers – all made work for the archivists.

 

“Publius, about my promotion – I wanted to assure you that I didn’t ask for it,” she explained.

 

Expecting some harsh words, she was shocked when he simply patted her on the shoulder and said, “You deserve it. Master Caius explained it to me. Besides, as Miriel’s husband I’ll have new duties and responsibilities.”

 

“If you have any tips for keeping the other apprentices in line, I’d love to hear them!” laughed Elowyn. She’d never had to manage other mages before.

 

“Just keep them busy so they can’t get into trouble,” Publius suggested. “idle mages are terrible gossips!”

 

She wished him well, and he went on his way, whistling. She liked this new Publius! Imagine if they could actually be friends. He hadn’t mentioned her ears once in the entire conversation.

 

“He hasn’t gotten any nookie yet, and he’s already whistling,” said a voice behind her.

 

She turned to look. “Vel!” she said in surprise, a smile breaking out on her face.

 

“Oh, so you remembered my name,” he said. “Thought someone else had turned your head.”

 

“If you can count a tree as a rival, I guess you’re right,” she replied.

 

“Huh?” he asked, puzzled. “Is that some figure of speech?”

 

She laughed. “No, just a strange experience in the Fade.”

 

“I see. It’s a mage thing.”

 

“It’s not some secret club, you know.”

 

“Yeah, well we mundanes don’t get to traipse across the Veil and hang out with demons on a regular basis.”

 

“Be glad for it,” she said. “You also don’t need to fear possession and having your head separated from your shoulders.”

 

“Anyone who works for Caius should worry for his head,” said Vel with a grimace.

 

“How was your time with the troops?” asked Elowyn.

 

Vel shrugged. “You know how I feel about strategy versus tactics. I like to get things done, not talk about them endlessly.”

 

“That’s where Publius comes in – he loves that stuff!” laughed Elowyn. “I expect you’ve heard his news?”

 

“Indeed! It falls to me to plan his stag night.” Vel waggled his eyebrows.

 

“It makes me wish I could attend! Perhaps I should dress in drag?”

 

“My dear, there is no way in Thedas you could pass as a man,” said Vel, looking her up and down.

 

“Aww, surely I could dress as a boy?”

 

Vel’s gaze lingered on her chest. “’Fraid not, missy, not without a great deal of bandages. Nope, the ladies shall not invade our night of revelry! Not those wearing bandages, anyway.” Vel winked.

 

“Perhaps I should take Miriel out for a bit of fun then? I hear some male slaves of my race are quite talented… dancers,” she said suggestively.

 

Vel whistled. “Just don’t tell Publius! He’s old-fashioned about bridal pucelage.”

 

“He thinks Miriel an innocent? Caius’ daughter?!” asked Elowyn incredulously. She’d heard stories of the wild ways of the Magister’s daughters.

 

“You know, that gives me an idea for a song! Yes, I’ll compose a little ditty for the stag party!”

 

“I’ll have to warn Miriel to play the part of the spotless maiden,” said Elowyn.

 

“I’m sure you can find her at that rascal Monkai’s house,” laughed Vel.

 

“Oh, dear!” said Elowyn, laughing.

[Serelir]

Vaellanius Manor, Minrathous

Spoiler

Talking with Vel had put Elowyn in a good mood. She was chatting with Venerandus about scheduling when they were interrupted by one of the slaves.

 

“You!” she said, pushing Elowyn in the chest with her sharp fingers.

 

“See here!” said Venerandus, “Hands off the First Apprentice!”

 

The woman was unfazed. She continued to glare at Elowyn, her eyes burning with hatred. “Who do you think you are, you little strumpet?! You’re not better than the rest of us, you with your ginger hair. You should be in the kitchens making coffee, not seducing your betters! Why, you’re not even a courtesan! You should know, the Master prefers blondes. You don’t stand a chance!”

 

“What are you talking about?” asked Elowyn. “The Master? I don’t even know who you are!”

 

Venerandus started to tell the woman to get back to her duties, but she interrupted him with another tirade. “We’ve all watched how you wiggled your way into his bed, you with your Orlesian accent and pretty ways. Well, you can’t have him! He loves me! I’m the one he calls Ashala, not you! And not that monstrous Qunari wh*re, either!” The woman was practically screaming.

 

“You forget yourself!” yelled Venerandus. Elowyn could see he was readying a thunderbolt. She put a hand on his arm to stop him.

 

“I’m sorry if the Master has set you aside,” she informed the livid woman, “but I can assure you it wasn’t on my account. He has his own priorities, and takes no counsel from his apprentices.”

 

The slave completely lost control of herself at Elowyn’s words and rushed toward her, claws out. She raked them across Elowyn’s face, drawing blood. Venerandus wrestled her away, calling for the guards. Elowyn stood there in shock, the blood dripping down onto her bodice.

 

“My lady, let me heal that for you,” said Venerandus.

 

“No,” said Elowyn, backing away. “The Master should see the result of his neglect.”

[Serelir]

Vaellanius Manor, Minrathous

Spoiler

The look on Caius’ face when he saw what Arine had done to Elowyn could crumble fortresses. “Where is she? I’ll stretch her neck with my own hands for this!” The scary part was that his voice was neither loud nor thunderous. He spoke in such a low, menacing tone that the hairs on the nape of Elowyn’s neck prickled. She was glad she wasn’t the object of his anger.

 

“Master, I’ve been meaning to speak to you about this matter for some time.”

 

“I should have sold that little b*tch months ago!” He came over to Elowyn and put his hand up to her face, sending a wave of healing energy through her. She hadn’t asked to be healed, he had simply decided to erase the evidence. He kissed her forehead. She had a moment of dizziness: power was emanating from him. It seemed to jump from him to her, as if their mana would combine into an incendiary substance. She stepped back a little.

 

“Forgive me, Little One. I couldn’t stand to see her marks on your face.”

 

“Forgive me, Master, for saying this, but I don’t think it’s entirely the slave’s fault. These women you keep… I know you feel that you are protecting them by seeing to their basic needs, but idleness breeds discord. They are like spirited horses kept in a stable: these women are trained entertainers with no audience.”

 

“They can see to the guards and apprentices. I’m sure they do so on a regular basis,” said Caius dismissively. “Have to see to the men’s needs as well. Better for the stallions to remain in my own stable than to let them roam all over the city.”

 

“Yet you are the leader of the herd, and it is you the mares seek,” replied Elowyn, extending the comparison.

 

Caius grinned. “Which means I get to choose!” He stepped close to her again and put his arm around her.

 

“Master, I am no mare!” she said, trying to sidle away. He held her tightly.

 

“You are a spirited filly, it’s true, and you need a gentle yet firm trainer,” he breathed into her ear. She felt a flush of heat. How vexing of him to turn the tables like that! Wresting control of her metaphor – she would show him! She leaned forward like she was going to whisper into his ear and bit his earlobe instead.

 

“This filly bites the impudent!” she said. But instead of scaring him off, her bite only provoked him. He grabbed a handful of her hair and bent her head back.

 

“Don’t forget that you are my slave, too,” he whispered hoarsely, and bit her on the neck.

 

She pushed against his chest. It was like trying to move a boulder. He laughed at her paltry efforts. His hand crackled with a little electricity, and he placed it on her derriere and zinged her. She jumped, shrieking a little.

 

“Don’t make me fight you, Master,” she warned.

 

“You don’t have to fight me. Just submit. There’s always a choice,” he said smugly. He twirled her hair in his hand, letting the silky strands run through his fingers.

 

“Just what am I submitting to?” she asked warily.

 

“Oh, so you choose to submit? I admit I’m pleased, though subduing you would also have been my pleasure.”

 

He was so sure of himself, it was too infuriating! The urge to step through the Veil and leave him empty-handed was strong, but she also wished to win this fight fair and square. She couldn’t play the Nazlik trump card again – he had decided to break whatever vows he’d made to his bodyguard, and why wouldn’t he? A Magister, used to having a harem of slaves at his disposal, had made promises to yet another slave. Though she was the mother of his child, Nazlik was also his property, and the Alta of Tevinter were brought up to take whatever caught their eyes.

 

She could see him watching her as if he could read all the thoughts racing through her head. A look approaching pity touched his features, then he smiled again. He had her trapped, and he knew it. He brushed her lips with the tips of his fingers.

 

“Ah, beautiful! It’s almost a shame to see your defenses crumble like the surrender of a great general. Did you think, when I acquired you, that I wanted you only for your magical talent?”

 

Elowyn tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. Her eyes were locked to his. She was overcome by a feeling of inevitability, like a hare in the hands of the hunter. She had admitted to him in the alleyway that she wanted him, too. She had thought, foolishly, that his devotion to Nazlik would keep her safe. Why did she continue to resist? There was a tiny voice inside her telling her that giving in to her desire for him would doom them both.

 

He let go of her hair and stepped back. She breathed a sigh of relief. Caius turned toward the door.

 

And locked it.

[Serelir]

Minrathous, Vaellanius Manor and The Staff & Dragon

Spoiler

Even Vespuccio’s gripping Lives of the Demon Hunters couldn’t keep Elowyn’s mind from wandering back to her encounter with Caius. She found herself smiling as she recalled his masterful touch, his powerful body and indomitable will. His kiss! She felt transformed.

 

Contemplating her reflection in her mirror, she touched the revenant’s mark on the hollow of her throat. She’d arrived in Minrathous a naïve, unworldly young woman. Now she was a powerful mage, a Dreamer who could shape the fabric of the Fade, First Apprentice to a Magister. “Watch out, missy,” she told herself, “Don’t let Pride get you!”

 

She grimaced at the possible repercussions of giving in to Caius’ seduction. Jealousy had already reared its ugly self in the form of the slave Arine. Nazlik had been sent away for her own protection, and Elowyn had taken advantage of her absence. She liked and respected Nazlik, yet she had betrayed her. Perhaps it had merely been curiosity on Caius’ part. Now that he’d had her, he might lose interest and move on to the next conquest. She regarded herself coolly, her eyes darkening to a gloaming violet. She pulled her hair back and twisted it into a knot. She smoothed her black satin corset and hooked a glittering black obsidian earring into each earlobe. Long gloves – it wouldn’t do to go out without them. A velvet cloak with a hood. It was warmer in Tevinter than in Orlais, but the evening brought a cool breeze off the ocean.

 

She wondered if Guy would notice how she’d changed. How much to confess? She had to keep her special talent a secret, lest another Magister try to kidnap her. Why was Guy working for the city Templars and not for Magistra Aurelie? She straightened one of the flounces on her black organdy skirt and tightened the buckle on her left boot. A locket to cover the key-mark. There, ready.

 

It was a night full of possibilities. A misty breeze blew, loosening a few tendrils of her hair. She was meeting Guy at a pub near the Archon’s palace called the Staff & Dragon. The large moon followed her through the streets. Someone whistled at her, and she smiled. Attention from men didn’t scare her anymore. She shaped a coiled vine in her hand and dissolved it again. She could shape plants on this side of the Veil – could she shape animals, too? Maybe by summoning wisps and transforming them. She’d have to experiment.

 

She reached the pub and entered, spying Guy at a table in the corner. He was such a big man, and so handsome in a charming Orlesian way that he made her smile. It would be good to speak her first language again. She wondered if she’d speak it with a Tevene accent after all these months.

 

Guy smiled when he saw her. She doffed her cloak and sat down. “What are you having?” asked Guy.

 

“Red wine for me,” she answered, and he raised his hand and ordered for her.

 

“You look wonderful!” he said, admiring her.

 

She grinned. “Different?” she asked, turning her head side to side, setting her dangling earrings swinging.

 

Guy laughed. “You look all grown up, a proper Tevinter mage.”

 

“I like your Tevinter Templar armor,” said Elowyn. “It’s a pleasant change.”

 

“I’ll bet!” laughed Guy.

 

“Is it very different, not using lyrium?”

 

“It’s such a relief to break that addiction,” said Guy seriously. “I feel better physically, and mentally, too. Not being able to rely on lyrium-fueled powers has made me a better Templar as well.”

 

“How does that work exactly?” asked Elowyn.

 

“It’s not as simple as nullifying a mage’s mana, but there are techniques. I’ve had to study up on some new schools of magic and learn strategies. In fact, it’s been exciting! Especially working with the other Tevinter Templars – we have to coordinate in order to be effective. It’s more of a challenge, and I like that.”

 

“So Guy, how did you end up here? I… I really feel terrible about leaving you. Can you forgive me for that?”

 

“I was the one who told you to go. No apologies are necessary.” He squeezed her hand. “One of the grooms found me and brought me to my mother. She, ah… she’s a talented healer, let’s put it that way.”

 

“You mean she’s a mage, but never had to endure imprisonment?”

 

“The prerogative of the rich, yes – they find ways to keep their children out of the Circles. She had private tutors.”

 

“Now I know how she charms people so easily!” Elowyn laughed. “It’s magic!”

 

“Could be,” said Guy, taking a drink. “This wine is actually decent! I didn’t know one could get good wine outside of Orlais.”

 

“There are some excellent varietals produced right outside Minrathous! Both Magistra Aurelie and Magister Caius have vineyards. Master even said I can name a new grape that he’s breeding. Err, that his winemaster is breeding, shall we say. Ummm, about Magistra Aurelie – didn’t your mother want to send you to work for her? What happened with that?”

 

“I could ask the same thing of you,” said Guy.

 

“Well, I did start out there. But Aurelie and Caius did a deal – Caius’ daughter Cassia is supposed to marry Aurelie’s son, Batzas. Cassia inherits her mother’s father’s Senate seat, and since Aurelie has one of her own, Batzas inherits. So the power will be consolidated. I haven’t heard much about the wedding plans, though, and now Caius’ youngest daughter has been promised to one of his apprentices. It’ll be wedding season here! Better practice your dancing.”

 

“Always!” said Guy. “But what do you think of Magister Caius?”

 

“Templars have him under scrutiny, do they? I’m not surprised. Well,” she tried to suppress a smile, “He’s a revelation! When I first met him, he had me shaking in my boots. He embodied everything the Orlesian Chantry warned us about: the dangerously powerful, unchecked Tevinter Magister. And he is that. But he’s also a father, and head of the largest family organization in Tevinter. He commands armies and prevents the Qunari from sweeping through Tevinter and laying waste to Orlais and Ferelden. It’s been quite an education working for him.” Elowyn couldn’t suppress a blush.

 

Guy gave her a sharp look. “Is he more than just your boss?”

 

Elowyn took a sip of her wine. “I admire him,” she said carefully. “So, do you work for Magistra Aurelie or not?” she asked, turning the tables.

 

“Officially, all Tevinter Templars work for Circle of Magi, and therefore the Magisters and ultimately the Archon, not the Chantry. So, Aurelia being a Magister, yes, she’s one of my bosses.”

 

“Complicated!” said Elowyn. “I suppose that makes Magister Caius your boss as well.”

 

“Yes, I suppose it does,” he said, sipping his wine.

 

She told him a condensed version of her adventures, and he talked about his journey north and all the wonder of seeing Minrathous for the first time. He was especially in awe of the Juggernauts.

 

“I’d give anything to see those in action!” he said like an excited schoolboy.

 

“Let’s hope we never have to see that,” admonished Elowyn, “though I admit I’m curious. They’re absolutely humongous! Imagine them hurling boulders at the Qunari. They could probably pick up whole buildings and throw them.”

 

“You know, I heard something about the damage to the Library’s dome,” said Guy. “People are saying a dragon did it?”

 

“Something like that,” said Elowyn, gazing into her wineglass.

 

“I’d love to see a dragon, too,” said Guy.

 

“Maybe you will!” said Elowyn.

 

They took leave of each other in the Orlesian fashion, with a kiss on each cheek, and Elowyn walked back to the manor, enjoying her walk under the stars. The Master would want to hear about the new Templar. She looked forward to seeing Caius again.

[Serelir]

Veterans Home, Minrathous

Spoiler

A messenger brought a note from Caius ordering Elowyn to remain living at the manor. There was no explanation. “Either he’s going to tell me in person what’s going on, or he’s just going to pretend it didn’t happen,” thought Elowyn to herself.

 

In either case, she needed to get on with her project of tracking down the third victim before he expired. His name was Decentius Opilio, and he was a soporatus swordsman, a veteran of the war. He’d been discharged because of extensive injuries, apparently recovered, and then mysteriously fallen into a state of unconsciousness. His body was being tended in a veterans home. One of the healers brought Elowyn to Decentius’ bed.

 

“We’ve tried everything,” said the healer, “but he hasn’t woken up.”

 

“What were the circumstances surrounding his collapse?” asked Elowyn.  “Had he gone out, or had any visitors here at the home?”

 

“He had gone out by himself one evening. The veterans who are ambulatory can come and go as they please – the home is part of the benefits system. Most veterans choose to live with their families, of course, but some of the returning soldiers either don’t have families or their families can’t provide the extent of care they need for their injuries. Veterans can live here the rest of their lives, if they wish. We have a group of old soldiers here who tell the most marvelous stories.”

 

“I would love to document them!”

 

“I’m sure they’d be glad to regale you with their tales. The old folks don’t get many visitors, especially young ladies,” the healer smiled.

 

“So do you know where Decentius went that evening? Where was he found?”

 

“I’m afraid no one knows. We assumed he’d just gone to the pub, but he was found in the street. No one saw him collapse.”

 

“Do you think his body could have been left there by someone?”

 

“Ah, you think this might be the result of a magical attack? I don’t know why anyone would choose to harm Decentius. He didn’t have any enemies, as far as I know.”

 

“Does Decentius have any possessions here at the home? Any war mementoes or items he was particularly attached to?” Elowyn asked. The healer looked at her strangely. She probably thought Elowyn was one of those loonies who believe in seer magic – the kind of parlor tricks low-level mages perform to bilk coin from the gullible, such as making contact with departed loved ones.

 

“He has a few items in his chest there. You can take a look.”

 

The healer kept an eye on Elowyn as she searched through Decentius’ chest. It contained some carefully-folded military uniforms and toiletry items such as boot polish. There was a small chest of medals. Elowyn examined them closely, but didn’t feel any enchantments emanating from them. At the bottom of the chest was an empty scabbard. Elowyn held it out to the healer.

 

“Is there a sword for this scabbard?”

 

“Not that I know of. We did wonder why he kept an old, empty scabbard, but he was attached to it – wouldn’t let us toss it out.”

 

After freeing the first two victims, Elowyn had a better idea of how the mage tricked each person, and this scabbard practically cried out to her. Now she just needed to get a moment alone with it so she could cross into the Fade.

 

“Would any of his friends here know why he kept this scabbard?”

 

“You’re welcome to ask. He was buddies with Olybrius Visellius. He’s probably in the dayroom playing cards.”

 

“Mind if I take this to show him?”

 

“That old thing? He doesn’t need it, wherever he is now.”

 

Elowyn thought that perhaps he did, but she wasn’t about to explain the situation to the healer. Sure enough, Olybrius was playing cards with some friends. She was surprised to discover that he wasn’t an old man. He was only a few years older than Caius, by her estimate. She’d assumed that veterans in the home would all be elderly, but she supposed that some of them were invalids. Come to think of it, perhaps Decentius wasn’t as old as she’d thought, merely wasted from being ill.

 

She begged Olybrius’ pardon for pulling him away from his game.

 

“S’okay. Was losing anyway!” he chortled. She handed him the scabbard and asked if he knew anything about it. He took it and ran a hand over the leather. “Now this,” he said, “has been with him through many a battle.”

 

“What happened to the sword?”

 

“Ah, now there’s a story! Decentius’ patrol was ambushed, and he was left for dead on a beach in Seheron. A squad discovered him a few days after the battle – he was wandering, incoherent. They took him back to camp, to the infirmary. The sword had gone missing, probably taken as a trophy by one of the horned bastards.”

 

“And he never woke up?” Elowyn asked, concerned that she was on a wild nug chase. Perhaps Decentius hadn’t been one of the mage’s victims after all.

 

“Oh, no, that was years ago. He was invalided out and wound up here, where I got to know him. No, he was a hearty fellow – had his aches and pains from his war wounds, right enough, the occasional bad spell. But he hadn’t any family left, ye see. The military was his family. Sure was troubled about that sword though.”

 

“Did he have any friends from outside the home? Anyone in town?”

 

“He went out on occasion. Man’s business, if ye know what I mean.” Olybrius winked at her. She hoped she didn’t blanch, thinking of the brothel and what went on there.

 

“Did he mention any of them by name?”

 

“The girls?” asked Olybrius, giving her a strange look.

 

“Any men? Friends, I mean, not… umm…”

 

“Oh, huh,” Olybrius laughed. “There was one. I remember him talking about the Master, what was it… the Master of Knots, I think he said. I just figured it was some fancy mage title, place is crawling with ‘em. No offense!”

 

“None taken! I’d never seen so many mages in my entire life before I came to Minrathous.”

 

“Ah, I could tell by your accent that you were Orlesian. Who did you say you worked for again?”

 

“Medical Examiner’s Office,” Elowyn responded, thinking it was sort of true. In a sense. She had confirmation that Decentius had been mixed up with the sadistic mage. But finding the sword sounded almost impossible, especially if it had fallen into enemy hands. Maybe she could interview his old squad mates and see if any of them had more information.

 

“What was his squad? I’m hoping to track down his mates,” she asked Olybrius.

 

Olybrius shook his head at Elowyn’s ignorance of Imperial military organization. “His Legion was the 8^th Carastes. You’d want to talk to his Centurion, though she’s probably been promoted by now: Aquilia Crispina.”

 

“Thank you very much for your help, Olybrius.”

 

“It’s not every day I get a pretty female visitor! Come on back if you have more questions. Hope you can do something for poor Decentius.”

 

Elowyn smiled, “I’ll try.” She took her leave of Olybrius, and when she got to a quiet hallway with no one in sight, she stepped into the Fade to investigate the scabbard.

[Serelir]

Veterans Residence, The Fade

Spoiler

The veterans’ residence was different in the Fade. That wasn’t unexpected, but after wandering through a few of the rooms, Elowyn realized that it must have been a private home before its present function. She heard someone humming and peeked through a doorway. An old woman was sitting in a rocking chair, knitting.

 

“Hello?” she asked, not wishing to startle the spirit.

 

The woman paused and looked up at Elowyn. “Hello, dear. What brings you here?”

 

Was it odd that the spirit wasn’t surprised to see her? Elowyn showed her the scabbard. “Do you know anything about this?”

 

The woman put down her knitting and examined the scabbard. She held it as if it were a weighty object. She held it up to Elowyn, “Can you not see the bloodstains?”

 

As Elowyn watched, the leather of the scabbard became splashed with blood. She touched one of the splatters, and the Fade shifted. She saw Olybrius and another man talking quietly.

 

“I received a letter from Nicasia. She said Eutolmius had been demoted and transferred for ‘spreading slanderous rumors.’ Eutolmius had told her he’d seen the sword.”

 

“What are you going to do?” asked Olybrius.

 

“What can I do? The Decanus has been promoted. It’s the word of an officer against the vague suspicions of a legionary.”

 

Olybrius patted the man, who must have been Decentius, on the shoulder. “Perhaps that mage you know can help. He must have contacts in the Magisterium.”

 

Decentius sighed. “It’s worth a shot.”

 

The scene faded, and Elowyn was back in the room with the old woman, who handed the scabbard back to her and smiled. “Did that help, dearie?”

 

“I think so,” said Elowyn hesitantly. “What is it you’re knitting?”

 

The woman held up the work in her lap. “It’s a map. Do you see where it happened?”

 

Elowyn scrutinized the tangle of threads. All of a sudden, the pattern came together, and she recognized a map of Seheron and the shore of Tevinter across the Straits of Ventosus.  There was a knot of red thread in Seheron, and a ship sailing toward Carastes.

 

“I think I know where I have to go,” said Elowyn. “Thank you for helping me.”

 

“It’s what I do,” said the spirit, and resumed her knitting and humming.

 

Elowyn stepped back through the Veil, thinking a veterans’ home was a good place for a spirit of Compassion. She’d been lucky.  She hoped her luck would hold for the next step: seeing if the Master would agree to let her go to Carastes on what could turn out to be a wild nug chase.