Asunder (13 page)

            "All that for me? How touching."

            "I wasn't going to let you vanish, only to turn up Tranquil in a few weeks. Not without proof you'd even done anything." Adrian scowled, a look she normally reserved for whenever she paid someone a grudging compliment. "First Enchanter Edmonde backed us up. He was there with all the senior enchanters, demanding to speak to the Lord Seeker."

            Rhys merely nodded, a bit speechless. He could joke all he wanted, but the idea that the other mages would defend him even at the risk of their own safety was daunting. Would he have done the same in their shoes? He liked to think so. "So what happened?" he finally asked.

            "Ser Evangeline showed up." Adrian rolled her eyes at the name. She could never keep her feelings about anyone secret, templars least of all. "She ordered her men to stand down, and told us you'd snuck out of your room in the middle of the night. Went down to the Pit, maybe even got into some kind of battle." She paused as they reached the center of the hall, looking at Rhys with guarded curiosity. "It's . . . not true, is it?"

            Ah, so here it was. He noticed there were a few others nearby who halted in the middle of their conversations, pretending not to listen even though they clearly were. Adrian was dying to know the truth. They all were. "It's true," he admitted.

            "Which part?"

            "I went down to the Pit," he said carefully. "I needed to find someone. I got caught, and that was the end of it."

            "You needed to find
someone
."

            "Yes."

            Her eyes flashed with annoyance. "Fine, then. Don't tell me." Adrian pulled him forward again, sternly silent. Rhys couldn't blame her for being angry. If anyone would believe him about Cole, she would, but what then? She would be determined to do something— even if she had no idea what that might be. As much as he longed to be able to talk about it, getting Adrian mixed up in his mess would just make things worse for her and everyone else.

            He looked around, hoping to spot the First Enchanter in the crowd. He felt as if he should go and thank the man, or at least apologize for putting him to so much trouble. The idea behind finding Cole, after all, was to spare the Circle from suffering— not to instigate more of it. But he couldn't see the man anywhere.

            Finally Adrian got to her destination: a small group of senior enchanters, all of whom Rhys recognized. Members of the tower's Libertarian fraternity— except for Jeannot, of course. One of them, an elven man with long black hair and the strange alien eyes typical of his kind, nodded grimly as they approached. Garys had been the unofficial leader of the fraternity before Adrian effectively supplanted him— not through any scheming, of course, but by virtue of the fact she couldn't
not
be the leader and still have things done her way.

            Consequently, Garys cared little for either of them. Rhys felt the same in return; Garys was one of the reasons he'd never much associated with the White Spire's Libertarians except through Adrian. "Good to have you back," the elf said. It didn't sound sincere.

            "Oh, I was going to stay in the cells a little longer, but who could miss this? An assembly, already? Exciting!" He chuckled inwardly as the elf's jaw clenched in irritation.

            Adrian folded her arms, frowning severely. "It seems Ser Evangeline was telling the truth. He snuck out of his chambers that night, just like she said."

            Garys raised his eyebrows in surprise. "More the fools us for defending you, then. What would possess you to do such a thing? And why would they let you out at all afterward?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Just what did you tell them?"

            "He didn't tell them
anything,
" Adrian insisted. Then she glanced at Rhys, suddenly uncertain. "You didn't tell them anything, did you?"

            "I don't know anything."

            "That wouldn't stop you from making something up," Garys growled.

            Rhys shrugged. "I didn't give the templars a reason to blame the Libertarians, if that's what you're asking."

            The elf appeared unconvinced, but Adrian waved the idea away. "It doesn't matter. We're together now, and we need to talk about what our next step is. If we sit back and do nothing, they'll end up pinning the attack on the Divine on us. You know they will."

            "That depends," Garys said. He turned to Rhys. "The Libertarians stood behind you, and perhaps that's what got you released. What I want to know is whether you'll return the favor? You've never truly been part of the fraternity, I know that. . . . But will you stand with us now?"

            There was a tone to the elf's voice that gave Rhys pause. He glanced around and noticed only other Libertarians close by. The fraternity was planning something, perhaps something serious. They wanted his help, or they wanted to test him. Either way it made for a dangerous conversation, particularly in the middle of the great hall.

            It also made Rhys wonder.
Had
they been involved in the attempt on the Divine, and not told him? Was Adrian part of it? It seemed unlikely, as she was terrible at keeping secrets, and yet . . .

            Adrian looked at him expectantly, as did the others. "Well?" she asked.

            Thankfully, fate intervened before he could say anything. The din of conversation in the hall suddenly increased. The mages moved to the seats on either side of the chamber, their steps a clatter of loud echoes that made it difficult to talk. Rhys saw one of the Tranquil circulating among the groups, quietly urging everyone to clear the floor.

            "It seems our time is up," Garys muttered.

            "We can speak later," Adrian said. "Provided this isn't the Lord Seeker's way of telling us what new privileges we're having revoked, and we're all to be locked in our rooms." She strode quickly toward a pair of open chairs— in the front row, of course— and waved for Rhys to follow. He did so, leaving Garys to scowl with the other Libertarians.

            It wasn't long before a sudden hush descended. First Enchanter Edmonde had appeared. He wore ceremonial robes: thick black brocade with a golden border, as well as a mantle of white fur that looked heavy enough to bear him to the ground. The man favored his staff , each tapringing loudly on the marble. As everyone quieted, the tapping became the only sound in the chamber. By the time the First Enchanter reached the center of the hall, he had everyone's rapt attention.

            He looked about, and initially didn't say anything. The weariness in his posture was just as pronounced as in the Knight- Commander's office. "I am pleased," he began, his voice barely audible, "that you have all attended this assembly, and that you are well. These are dangerous times, my friends, and I would not wish to see us adding to the strife. Our gifts can do so much good, if we only allow it . . ."

            He trailed off into silence, closing his eyes. Nobody dared to speak, and the only sounds in the entire hall were a few uncomfortable coughs. When the man opened his eyes again, he raised a hand and nodded. "I know, I know. I am old, and here I find myself your leader with so very little to say. Would that I could do better." He turned toward the doors. "There is, however, someone who may have the words I do not."

            All eyes turned to the doors. An elderly woman walked in, but whereas the First Enchanter had been worn down by his years, she carried hers with pride. She wore a robe of blue silk and a regal white cloak that swept along the floor behind her. Her grey hair was tied up into a matronly bun, but it was easy to see she had once been a beautiful woman. Now she might be called handsome, her face carrying the careworn maturity of one accustomed to power.

            This woman needed no introduction, for every mage in the hall knew of her: Wynne, archmage and hero of the Blight in Ferelden nine years before. Despite this, she received no hero's welcome here. There was a smattering of polite applause, but most of the crowd was shocked into silence. It was she, after all, who had led the College of Enchanters to vote against in de pen dence from the Chantry prior to its closure. There were many here who believed that made her a traitor.

            Rhys groaned inwardly. Of all the people he might have expected to see walk through that door, she was the very last. He would rather it have been the Lord Seeker. Anyone but her.

            "Can you believe it?" Adrian hissed in his ear.

            "Not really, no."

            Wynne ignored the tension in the hall, instead nodding politely to the First Enchanter as he withdrew. Her cool gaze swept across the audience, perhaps sizing it up or silently daring those who resented her presence to speak up. None did. Rhys thought her eyes lingered on him, and he did his best to avoid meeting them. Then she raised her white staff high over her head. With a blinding flash, an arc of lightning raced out of it toward the vaulted ceiling. It was followed by a thunderclap that reverberated throughout the chamber, rattling the stained glass windows.

            The audience gasped, and many threw their hands over their heads in anticipation of the roof caving down upon them. Nothing happened. Wynne lowered her staff , regarding those seated with a stern expression. "That is our power," she intoned. "We may unleash great destructive force, or we may control it. It is a choice we must make wisely, for this power can bring great suffering to others."

            She paused, raising her free hand. Her fingers moved in an elaborate pattern as she cast a spell, and slowly a spirit began to manifest. It had a vaguely humanoid shape, as if knitted together from gossamer strands of light. The spirit hovered in the air beside her, bewildered, and Wynne held her hand out toward it. Her fingers passed through its form, leaving ripples in their wake. Her expression was tender, almost motherly.

            "And then there are times when that choice is taken away from us." She waved her hand and the spirit blinked out of existence. "There are spirits far less benign than that one, and should they force their way into your mind, you will become a creature of chaos." She took a few steps toward the apprentices' side of the hall, looking straight at a boy who couldn't have been more than twelve. The lad shied away uneasily. "Even the most innocent among us could become a terror, and there is no way to know who will fall."

            Sadness crossed her face, and she turned away. Facing the rest of the audience again, her tone softened. "If I tell you things you already know, it is because we forget how very remarkable we are. We forget the reasons others have to fear us, and that they are good ones. We see only the harsh restrictions placed upon us, and they seem very unfair indeed."

            Rhys heard the susurrus of angry whispers around him. Beside him, Adrian was livid. He could all but feel the grinding of her teeth as she kept herself from exploding. He felt his own temper stirring as well, try as he might to suppress it.

            "What is our alternative?" Wynne continued. She waited for an answer, but none was forthcoming. "Shall we ask to watch over ourselves, without the Chantry's help? Ask the people of Thedas to trust that we would not repeat the mistakes of the Tevinter magisters, mistakes that have brought the world to the very end of destruction on more than one occasion?"

            She held her white staff in front of her now, and a fiery aura blazed into life around it. "Or shall we fight?" The aura intensified until it shone so brilliantly Rhys was forced to look away. Others did the same. "We stand up against our oppressors and show them their error in underestimating us!" The light suddenly died, and at that the hall became deathly quiet. "To what end?" she whispered. "Even if we could kill them all, it would change nothing.

            "I counsel patience, now just as I did a year ago at the College of Enchanters. Yes, things must change . . . but if we do not show ourselves willing to bend, how can we expect those who fear us to do so?"

            "Patience!" a new voice cried out, the echoes ringing throughout the hall. Rhys was startled to discover it was his own. He was standing, fists clenched at his sides, and now a hundred robes rustled as all eyes turned toward him. So, too, did Wynne regard him with a curious lift to her brow.

            "Have you something to add, Enchanter?" she asked.

            He was sick of the theatrics. This woman lecturing them like they should be grateful for their treatment . . . it filled him with rage. Even so, he hadn't planned on speaking. This was the second time he'd let his temper get the better of him: once with the Lord Seeker and now this. If he were smart, he'd mumble an excuse and sit back down.

            Still. That would mean giving in.

            "I do," he finally said. Adrian stared at him in shock, but also amusement. It was she, after all, who had a reputation as a troublemaker. Gritting his teeth, he pushed on. "Who are you to counsel patience? You have more freedoms than any of us. You're not locked into a tower, herded into your chambers at night like a child. Nobody's threatening you with the Rite of Tranquility for stepping out of line. It's easy to be
patient
when you haven't been through what we have this last year!"