Asunder (33 page)

            And now she'd abandoned him, possibly when he needed her the most. All Adrian really wanted to know was why he considered this Cole more important than anything else . . . and why he protected a templar. The thought that she might truly lose him, forever, filled her with dread.

            Adrian sped up to walk beside Wynne. The old woman did a poor job of hiding her scowl. A fine thanks, Adrian thought, for continuing to help even after they'd all been dragged unwillingly into the Fade. Why Rhys thought anything of the woman at all, she couldn't imagine. She was one of the most prominent mages in the Circle, true, but she was nothing like him . . . and she couldn't think of someone less motherly.

            "Why are you doing this?" Adrian asked, annoyed.

            Wynne seemed surprised by the question. "Rescuing Pharamond?"

            "You could have gone with Rhys. Instead you're choosing to rescue . . . what? A friend? Over helping your own son? What if something happens to him?"

            "If you were concerned about Rhys's safety, then you should have accompanied him."

            "But I'm here with you, and I think I'm owed an explanation. Do you do this sort of thing for all your friends? Are they more important to you than your family?"

            Wynne clenched her jaw, stifling outrage. "You know nothing of me."

            "But I know Rhys," Adrian insisted, "and I know he deserves your help."

            "I've already helped him."

            "And now he's gone running after that invisible mage, or whatever he is . . . because he wants to help the man, not because it could prove his innocence. But I think it'll just make things worse for him, especially with that templar there."

            Wynne smiled with amusement. "The way you say 'that templar' . . . you truly don't care for her, do you? Personally, I mean."

            "Is there any reason I should? You heard what Ser Evangeline said. She'll do her duty, no matter what. I don't think Rhys understands what that means."

            "And you do?" The old woman shrugged in a condescending manner that irritated Adrian. "I made a commitment to the Chantry. That is important to me. It just so happens that Pharamond is also my friend, and I refuse to see him abandoned to his fate."

            "Even after what he's done?"

            Wynne stopped. She turned and leveled a cool glare at Adrian. "For a Libertarian who claims to have the interests of all mages at heart, you seem remarkably willing to cast aside those who fail to meet your standards. It seems the templars are not the only ones quick to judge."

            Adrian was taken aback, unsure how to respond to that without getting into another argument. Wynne seemed to take that as acceptance, however, and knowingly nodded. "As I thought," she said. "If it's me you wish to judge, you may certainly do so. I would suggest you consider the fact that I, at least, have a mission as well as a friend to help. You have neither of those things. If there is anyone you should be asking these questions to, it's yourself."

            With that the woman sped up her pace and marched off. Adrian was left standing in the middle of the street, nonplussed, with the golem staring down at her. The glowing points of light where its eyes should be made it difficult to tell what it thought, but Adrian imagined it was amused by the spectacle.

            "It should be more careful," the golem announced.

            "Oh? Why is that?"

            "The elderly mage will squish it like a bug if it angers her."

            Adrian snorted. "She may have more experience, but I am a senior enchanter for a very good reason. Nobody will be squishing me."

            "There are things it does not know about the elderly mage," it insisted.

            "Such as?"

            The golem refused to elaborate, however, and instead stomped off to catch up with Wynne. Adrian stood there, frustrated. The old woman was a powerful mage, but she certainly hadn't defeated the Archdemon single handedly, had she? How could she be so confident that she expected to walk right up to the demon that ruled this portion of the Fade and defeat it? What was Adrian missing?

            They proceeded through the empty city streets for a time, the wisp unerringly guiding them. Open doorways dotted the buildings they passed, and Adrian asked why they didn't use one of them to reach the tower. A doorway in the Fade, after all, was simply a transition— it could be used to reach almost anywhere one desired. Wynne was suspicious, however, and claimed they could be a trap laid by the demon. So they remained on foot.

            Not everything was unfamiliar. Adrian noticed the Imperial Palace far off on its hill, looking as resplendent as she remembered. They passed the streets of the Belle Marché, but whereas they would normally have been bustling with merchants and entertainers of every variety, here it was simply empty. The marketplace was
never
empty, as she recalled. Even at night it was filled with people, the taverns overflowing with revelry.

            The White Spire loomed ever larger the closer they got to it, the pale tower shooting straight up into the sky like a lance, almost as if it would reach the far- off floating islands or even beyond. It was not nearly this large in real life, Adrian realized. This was the product of someone for whom the White Spire— perhaps the entire Circle of Magi— dominated their mental landscape. She could sympathize.

            Finally, as if the city had given up trying to confuse them with its twists and turns, the entry to the tower appeared. The ivy- covered wrought iron gate stood open, as did the massive doors leading into the great hall. Whereas normally there would have been templars guarding the compound, or at least visible as they traveled in and out of the tower, the area seemed utterly abandoned.

            "It seems we are made welcome," Wynne commented.

            The golem peered at the gate and scowled. "It's going to shut behind us, isn't it? Does the elderly mage wish me to rip this off its hinges?"

            "What would be the point? What we seek lies within." She waved her hand at the hovering wisp and it bobbed gratefully before winking out of existence. They were left alone, the only sound the faint whistling of the wind between the buildings behind them.

            "I don't like it," Adrian complained.

            Wynne sighed. “There's very little to like about any of this."

            They walked inside. The great hall looked just as it should: the checkered marble floor, the vast arches, the foreboding windows of colored glass. Unlike every other part of the city, this seemed exactly right. She almost expected the interior doors to fly open, and a horde of mages to file in for their assembly. None came. The golem kept looking at every corner of the chamber, clenching its fists so tightly Adrian could hear the crunching of the stone. It made her more nervous than she already was.

            They saw their first living person as they moved into the main floor of the tower. Templars should be training in the interior courtyard or at least present in the halls. These first floors were their main barracks, after all; they should be everywhere. But it was a single mage that greeted them. Then Adrian saw the grey robes and corrected herself: this was no mage, but a Tranquil.

            The man walked up and bowed. His placid smile was the same as most Tranquil assumed, not because they were pleased about anything but because they knew it put others at ease. Adrian found it off- putting. In fact, she found everything about them off- putting. The idea that this could just as easily be done to her was at once both unsettling and outrageous.

            "I greet you all," the Tranquil said. "Is there something you seek here?"

            Wynne studied him carefully. She raised a hand to stop Shale from attacking, without looking in the golem's direction. Shale pouted, but remained still. "I'm looking for Pharamond," Wynne said. "Where would I find him?"

            The man nodded, as if expecting this, and pointed up. The meaning was clear: the top of the tower. Somehow Adrian wasn't surprised.

            "And who might you be?" Wynne asked him.

            "I am no one of significance, merely one who is now content."

            The way he said it, so evenly and with conviction, made Adrian shiver. "How do we know this isn't the demon?" she whispered to Wynne.

            "He's not. I would sense it." Wynne didn't seem certain, however.

            The man only smiled patiently. "I understand if you do not trust me. I have lived my entire life as a danger to others, and though that time has passed it would not surprise me to learn there are those who still harbor suspicion."

            "What do you mean 'that time has passed'?" Adrian asked him.

            He gestured to the tower around them. "Do you not see? This place stands as a memorial to an era best forgotten. The Circle of Magi is no longer needed. The templars are long gone, and those of us who remain do so only because we wish to."

            "I don't understand."

            "Come, I will show you." He beckoned to them, and headed up the stairs. Shale made as if to grab at him, but Wynne shook her head no. She tapped her staff on the ground, lighting up the tip with an aura of power. Exchanging a glance with the others that they should be wary, she followed him.

            They saw more people as they ascended, men and women roaming sedately through the halls. None of them spoke, and the only sound Adrian could hear was the faint rustling of their grey robes. Some stopped and nodded pleasantly as they passed, but there was no sense of concern or danger.

            It wasn't until they reached the level occupied by the mages that she began to understand her rising apprehension. The commons was crowded, just as Adrian had often seen it before. People stood in clumps, speaking of things in calm whispers. None of them were mages, however. They were all Tranquil. All of them.

            "Do you see?" the man asked them. He appeared almost pleased as he waved to the crowd. Some of them looked their way, though none of them smiled. "As I said: the templars are no longer needed. Order has been restored to the world."

            A shiver of horror ran through Adrian. This was Pharamond's nightmare, then— and in many ways it mirrored her own.

            Wynne walked into the commons, her eyes searching the crowd. Her lips pressed together in grim disapproval, but she seemed nowhere near as affected by the scene as Adrian was. Everyone was so
calm
. The aura of peace that pervaded the tower was like a shroud, and Adrian wanted nothing more than to run from it screaming.

            "Where is Pharamond?" Wynne demanded.

            All conversation ceased. Every eye in the room turned toward them, and Adrian felt her hackles rise. In the utter silence that followed, she became very aware these were
not
truly Tranquil. They were part of the dream, perhaps even demons themselves, and they could turn hostile in an instant. Considering how many there were, that would be very bad indeed.

            Shale stepped beside Wynne, fists clenched. "Shall I crush them?"

            "Not yet."

            "What ever you're going to do," Adrian murmured, "I suggest you do it soon."

            The crowd parted all at once, giving way to a new Tranquil. He was an elven man, with long white hair and an air of dignity. It took Adrian a moment to realize this was the same elf they'd seen in the laboratory, but untwisted by demonic possession. The only thing the same was his blue eyes, radiating gentleness as they took in the group.

           
"Ah, Wynne, you have come."
He smiled.

            Her grim expression did not soften. An aura of white power radiated from her staff . Adrian could feel the mana being summoned within the old woman, even though she made no move to attack. It might be prudent to begin preparing her own spells, just in case. The tension in the chamber was palpable.

            "You are not Pharamond," Wynne said.

           
"Am I not? We are one, now and forever more."

            "I will cast you out."

            He chuckled lightly, and gestured to the Tranquil around him.
"Look around you, Wynne. Why do you struggle so? This is the future that awaits you. I know it, Pharamond knows it, and so do you."

            "That is
not
our future," she insisted.

           
"And what have you done to prevent it? All those extra years given you, and what have you accomplished but to have your efforts slip through your fingers like so much sand?"

            Adrian watched in amazement as his words hit home. Wynne's expression crumpled into doubt. "I . . . am doing what I can," she mumbled.

            He laughed at her. "A
nd what is that, exactly? Tell me, great heroine of the dreaded Blight. I see a woman whose soul has shriveled, caring for nothing other than a purpose that now escapes her."
The handsome elf walked close and cupped her chin in his hand. She did not resist. "Y
ou would be happier as Tranquil, dear Wynne. Your life has been a mistake, and a waste of all you were given."