Asunder (44 page)

            Knight- Commander Eron had believed that. Her father had believed that. She saw none of it in the Lord Seeker, however— just a cold certainty that froze out any hope of compromise. What made it worse was that many of the other templars feared the Lord Seeker, and saw him clamping down on them just as much as the mages, yet none of them were willing to raise a voice of opposition. Seeing their Knight- Captain serve as the perfect example of what happened to someone who did made that willingness fade all the more rapidly.

            So there she was, stuck for days on end down in the darkness. She'd tried several times to request an audience with the Lord Seeker, all to no avail. He didn't want to speak with her, or even acknowledge she existed. Evangeline knew he was watching her like a hawk, however, just waiting for the slightest opportunity to accuse her of insubordination.

            Which meant she couldn't seek out Rhys, or any of the others. Even Wynne she'd spoken to only in passing, and the old woman had been understanding when Evangeline suggested they'd best not meet for both their sakes. Rhys was confined to his chambers, and it nagged at her that she couldn't go and speak with him about . . . someone.

            Evangeline stood there, brow knitted in confusion, and then suddenly dug into her tunic. From there she pulled out a small piece of parchment. Quickly she walked over to the sapphire light of the glowlamp and read it:

           
His name is Cole.

           
He's not that old, perhaps twenty years. No more. He has blond hair that hangs in front of his eyes and wears dirty leathers— perhaps the only clothes he owns. He was there when you found Rhys in the templar crypt, but you couldn't see him. Nobody can, and those who do forget him. Just like you are doing right now.

           
Remember the dream.

            She lowered the parchment, closing her eyes and trying to cling to the memory. The dream in the Fade. That awful farm house, and finding a boy hidden away in a kitchen cupboard. She remembered everything about it, but Cole himself slipped past her mind's eye. She couldn't see his face, or hear his voice. But she wanted to. It was her duty to remember.

            What had happened to him? He had come to her, in the days after the audience with the Divine. Her recollection was like that of the dream— an impression of an event rather than something solid. He'd asked her about Rhys, and asked her if he was going to be given over to the templars.

           
I'm sorry, Cole,
she'd said.
I really don't know.

            She'd felt helpless, and it had been terrible to watch him sag in defeat. He'd been so terrified on the ride back to the White Spire, she remembered that much. All his hopes and fears wrapped up in anticipation of a moment that never arrived. They’d gone to the Grand Cathedral, and then everything afterward had been a blur of activity. The Lord Seeker had shut her out completely, and Cole had undoubtedly retreated back into the depths of the tower.

            In fact, he might even be watching her right now.

            "Light reading, Ser Evangeline?" a voice asked.

            She jumped. Lord Seeker Lambert was standing in the dungeon entrance, regarding her with an arched eyebrow. He was in full armor, the lamp's blue light glinting off its polished black surface. When she didn't respond, he walked over to the small table and idly moved around the playing cards she'd laid out for herself. "I see you're keeping busy. Guard duty can be tedious, but it's an important task nevertheless."

            "Is there something you wished, Lord Seeker?"

            He looked at her and frowned. "I appreciate a subordinate who challenges me— to a point. Considering where you stand, I would suggest modifying your tone."

            Evangeline took a deep breath. He was right, of course. There was no point in antagonizing him further. "I've been requesting an audience with you all week," she said. "I'm simply surprised to see you come to the Pit. I would have gone to your office."

            "Indeed." He paced about the room, hands clasped behind his back, and for several moments did not speak. Evangeline wasn't certain what to make of it. "I wished to meet you in private, away from prying eyes. It has to do with your report."

            "You read it."

            "I did, yes. Very thorough. I have a question, however. You claim that Enchanter Rhys is not, in fact, responsible for the murders— there is another, a young mage by the name of Cole."

            "That's correct."

            "Moreover, you claim he is invisible, and forgotten by anyone who meets him. This does not, however, include yourself?"

            "I . . . am starting to forget, my lord."

            The Lord Seeker stopped pacing, peering at her curiously. "I see" was all he said. "And yet you claim you can provide evidence of this Cole's existence? That he will manifest at your command?"

            "He said he would show himself, to help Rhys."

            "Then do so. I would like to meet this man."

            She squirmed uncomfortably. "I'm afraid I don't know where he is."

            He nodded, as if this was the answer he was expecting. "So he's . . . somewhere in the tower? Let's assume this man does exist—"

            "He exists, my lord."

            "Let's
assume
that is so. Did it occur to you his abilities are the hallmarks of blood magic? Strange, never- before- seen powers, fueled by the letting of blood from his victims?"

            "I don't believe that's true."

            "You don't
believe.
" His frown deepened, and he shook his head as if disappointed. "So you wouldn't agree if I suggested that perhaps this Cole is influencing your mind? Perhaps he is influencing Enchanter Rhys as well? Can you be
absolutely certain
this is not the case?"

            She sighed. On one hand, it was true— she couldn't be certain. She'd met Cole in the Fade, and everything about his presence seemed convenient. For all she knew, he might be the demon she first suspected him to be. Or he might be a maleficar, a user of forbidden magic who was bending her thoughts and memories into thinking him harmless. Perhaps he was manipulating them all.

            On the other hand, she didn't think of him as harmless. She remembered him as dangerous, what she could remember at all. He was also troubled, little more than a child left to fend for himself in a world he didn't fully understand. She had to believe her gut, and her gut told her he was what he appeared to be. That he needed help.

            "No, I can't be absolutely certain," she admitted. "But I still believe it. Somehow Cole's talents became . . . twisted . . . after he was brought to the tower. T rough fear or I don't know what. He needs to become Tranquil before he loses his mind completely and hurts someone else."

            The Lord Seeker nodded, pleased. "It's good to see you still believe in the Rite of Tranquility. I'd almost suspected you'd thrown in with those Libertarians."

            "The Rite has its place. I do agree with Enchanter Rhys that we need an alternative, however. He is not wrong, and he is no murderer. We have a responsibility to rise above our differences and see the truth."

            "Bold words." The man paced again, rubbing his chin and clearly pondering. He was cold, she decided. Everything to him was a problem that must be neatly solved and put away on a shelf to be forgotten. Anything that couldn't be was a threat. "Let me make you a proposition," he said. "I will agree to see this Cole, once you find him. He won't be harmed. Provided there's truth to what you say, Enchanter Rhys will be free to go."

            "And in return?"

            "You will stand before the first enchanters' conclave and denounce the research of this Pharamond."

            So that was it, the entire reason for his coming to the dungeon to speak with her. He didn't want to be seen as lenient, and he most certainly didn't want to be seen making an arrangement regarding her testimony. "You can't ask me to do that," she said.

            "I certainly can. It's your actions that have put me in this position, and thus I believe it's your responsibility to see it rectified." He raised a finger before she could speak. "I've read your report. It's obvious you're sympathetic to the mages, and that's commendable. I'll even go as far as to say we may look into this matter in the future, under closely monitored conditions. Perhaps you will be the one in charge of that. But we cannot do this now, not while the mages are casting about for reasons to rebel."

            "And you would rather give them one?"

            The Lord Seeker snorted derisively. "We are not playing games. There was a day when magic ruled this land and all lands, and it took the Maker to send us His chosen bride in order to tear them down.
We
are the bulwark preventing that from happening again. No one else."

            "And can that not be done with compassion?"

            "Let me tell you where compassion gets us." He wandered over to the doorway that led into the dungeon cells, staring down the length of the hall as if seeing ghosts in its shadows. "I come from the Tevinter Imperium. For ten years I served with the Imperial Chantry, did you know that?"

            "No."

            "I'm not surprised. I left because the Circle of Magi had been corrupted beyond hope of redemption. The magisters slowly took back power within the Circle . . . inch by inch. After all, what harm could there be in allowing the mages to govern themselves? Who better to know what mages need, and how to teach them to resist the lures of demons?"

            "Those are excellent questions," she said.

            "I agree. At the time, I believed the answer was yes, that the mages were best served when trained by their own." He noticed Evangeline's incredulous look, and almost smiled. "I did not begin my ser vice convinced they could not be trusted. How many of us do?"

            "Considering what the Chantry teaches us . . ."

            He shrugged. "I entered the order because I believed I could make things better. I found allies among the magisters, and I was convinced they could serve as examples for the others. One I even considered a friend. Together we were going to change the world."

            "And he betrayed you."

            The Lord Seeker shook his head. "He became the Black Divine. The perfect position to make our dreams a reality, yet once there it became more about keeping his power than using it. Those who sought to replace him turned to forbidden arts, and he did the same to compete. I had no idea."

            Evangeline was hesitant to speak. "You can't be blamed."

            "I can. My investigations turned up less and less. The templars became stonewalled, unable to look into even the simplest matter, and I refused to accept it was because those mages— men and women I had helped rise— did not wish their own corruption revealed."

            "But you found out eventually."

            His laugh was a short and bitter bark. "Yes. I confronted my friend, and he told me I was naïve. He said I knew nothing of power. But I learned a great deal that day."

            Evangeline shifted uncomfortably. She didn't like this insight into the Lord Seeker's past, and she had to wonder if it was simply because she preferred to think of him as unreasonable. The sad truth, she supposed, was that every templar had their reasons, and they were all good. At the same time, they all sounded like excuses. "That need not be what happens here," she said.

            He turned from the doorway to stare at her intently. "We give them leeway now, and they will demand more and more until that is
exactly
what will happen."

            She shook her head. "We're not always right, my lord. If we push them too far, they'll turn into exactly what you make them out to be. There has to be another way."

            The Lord Seeker sighed heavily, walking back to the dungeon entrance. "There is no other way," he said, "but I see it is pointless to speak more of it. Say what you will at the conclave, then . . . but once it is done you will not be serving in this tower any longer, no matter what the Divine says."

            "And what about Cole?"

            "If he exists, we will hunt him down." He made to leave, but hesitated. "It seems my first impression of you was incorrect. Knight- Commander Eron evidently chose subordinates with as poor judgment as his own. How unfortunate." With that, he walked out.

           
I am happy to disappoint you,
she thought.

            Three weeks.

            Rhys had never considered his quarters in the tower small before. Certainly if one had to spend three weeks confined somewhere, it was better than a dungeon cell. Far better, in fact. That didn't stop time from dragging incredibly slowly. All he had to do in his chambers was either stew in his frustration or read— and there was only so much he could read of Brother Genitivi's dry dissertations on the New Exalted Marches before he went mad.