Asunder (41 page)

            Evangeline and the others were safe on their horses, though the mounts grew nervous at all the tension. They became even more so when thunder roiled in the clouds overhead. It might be a good thing if it rained— perhaps some of the soot and stench could be washed out of the air. While the clouds threatened a downpour, however, nothing came. Instead they hovered on the edge of expectation.

            Over an hour passed. It had been well into the evening when they arrived, and waiting proved difficult.

            Evangeline felt tense. Who knew what Ser Arnaud might have told the Lord Seeker? He'd been less than pleased to see the group emerge from Adamant alive, and more than a little furious when Evangeline commanded him to surrender supplies and then left. She imagined his report would be less than kind. Not that the Lord Seeker would need more ammunition against her than he already had. Trying to explain to him where she thought her true duty lay would no doubt be like arguing with a wall. There would be a consequence for the decision she made, and it was coming to greet her now.

            When the clang of the gears sounded, Evangeline jumped. The effect on the sullen travelers was electrifying. Many immediately leapt up at the sudden noise, raising a hue and cry to their fellows, and began to run toward the gates. Evangeline saw many snatching up their packs, clearly presuming their chance to enter the city had finally come.

            The commander walked out of the sally port at the same time, his scowl deepening as he took in the activity. "Keep them back, for the love of Andraste!" he barked to the guards. "Cut down any one of them that tries to get past you!"

            When the great doors finally parted with an ominous booming sound, they did so rapidly. For a moment, there was blinding light. Evangeline shielded her eyes and blinked, and then watched as a full regiment of templars rode out. Thirty knights, all carrying torches. At their head was Lord Seeker Lambert, impressive in his black armor and riding the same massive charger she'd seem him arrive at the tower with so many weeks before.

            The surge of travelers stopped dead in their tracks. They shrank back in fear, not a one engaging the threatening guardsmen, and before long Evangeline's group was the only one near the gate. Everything became still and quiet.

            The Lord Seeker's face was rigid with fury. She could see it in the tightness of his jaw, in the flash of his grey eyes, almost hear the way he crushed the leather reins in a viselike grip. That did not bode well.

            "Lord Seeker Lambert." She greeted him with as warm a nod as she could muster. "It's good to see you again."

            "I suppose I should be thankful you made it at all," he said, every word crisp. "No untoward events on the road? You were not waylaid by bandits? They’ve become very common in recent days."

            "None we could not evade, my lord."

            "I see." He urged his horse forward, riding up beside Wynne and Pharamond. Wynne regarded him with a pleasant smile, but the elf quaked in obvious terror. "And this was the object of your rescue?"

            "He is," Wynne answered. "Pharamond's research has—"

            "I'm already well acquainted with his research," the man interrupted. He turned an icy glare on Wynne. "
Someone
sent word through the sending stones. The White Spire is simply buzzing with speculation." He turned to the waiting templars, waving them closer. "Escort them to the Grand Cathedral. Do not delay, and do not permit any of them to leave your sight."

            Wynne looked puzzled. "Are we not to return to the White Spire?"

            "Most Holy has commanded an immediate audience." Every word he spoke was laced with contempt. "Evidently she has a sending stone in her possession as well, though I'm certain you knew that. I am here to facilitate the meeting."

            Within moments, Evangeline's group was surrounded. The templars didn't draw their weapons, and what ever expressions they held were hidden behind their helmets. Still, there was no arguing with them. The group slowly rode with them toward the gates.

            "Not you, Ser Evangeline," the Lord Seeker called. "You are with me."

            She halted her mount, trying not to let her dismay show. The others continued ahead. Rhys looked back, catching her eyes and silently expressing his sympathy. Behind him, Cole was doing his best to hide. Whether or not the Lord Seeker would have taken notice of the young man even if he could see him didn't seem to matter— Cole would clearly have been much happier if he could have crawled inside Rhys's robe and disappeared.

            Within moments they were gone. "Ride with me" was all the Lord Seeker said as he turned his mount about and followed after them. Evangeline kept pace, and as soon as they were through the gates the gears began turning once again. A minute later the great doors slammed shut, the thunderous sound filled with such finality it chilled her bones.

            They rode quietly through the Avenue of the Sun. During the day this would be a bustling place, the wide street lined with merchants of every kind as well as "greeters" who coaxed travelers to follow them to a special shop, a whore house, an inn . . . everyone would be bombarded with shouts the moment they entered Val Royeaux. At night it was quieter, and the greeters far seedier in their purpose.

            This night it was deserted. The glowlamps, installed at great expense along the avenue and maintained by the Tranquil, cast a sapphire shroud over the area that was almost eerie. So much smoke hung in the air she knew it must be worse in the poor quarters. There were enough city guardsmen patrolling the streets to make her believe a strict curfew had been laid down.

            "Perhaps I was unclear in my instruction," the Lord Seeker finally said.

            "I do not believe so."

            "Then can you tell me why these people are here? I sent a group of experienced templars to assist you should the inevitable occur. You dismissed them. Yet here I am confronted with the specter of the very chaos you were to prevent."

            "My lord, I—"

            "Not only do you allow them to leave the badlands with the Tranquil in tow, you let them go to the Circle of Magi to send word!" He glared at her scornfully. "A sending is seen by the mages before anyone else, leaving me no ability to stop word from spreading, and even if I had wished to keep this news from the Divine it did not matter! She received her own sending!"

            He paused in his rant, clearly expecting her to speak now. "My Lord Seeker," she said stiffly, "there were circumstances that—"

           
"Circumstances."

            "Yes, my lord. Most Holy has a personal interest in the results of Enchanter Wynne's mission. I decided it was best to permit her the opportunity to decide what should be done regarding the matter."

            "You decided." He repeated the word with disgust and shook his head. They rode in silence, and he stared at the street ahead. Perhaps he pondered what to do with her? She doubted that— far more likely he'd decided what to do with her before she even neared the capital. "I gave you an order, Knight- Captain. Does that mean nothing?"

            "I took vows to serve the Chantry," she insisted. Inwardly she despaired at the hole she was digging for herself, but a part of her was beginning to grow angry. "We have a responsibility to the Divine, as well as to the mages we protect— not only to keep order. With all due respect, my lord."

            "I see no respect here. I see a woman who has left me no opportunity to deal with this matter in a way that will not lead to more upheaval. Is this what you intended?"

            "I did what I judged to be best, and if you'll permit me the chance to explain myself fully, I'm hoping you'll agree."

            "And yet there is no time for explanations, is there? We ride to the Grand Cathedral, our course set." The Lord Seeker clenched his jaw, refusing to look at her. "When we return to the White Spire, you will report to Ser Arnaud. He will be relieving you as Knight- Captain."

            "Yes, my lord." Evangeline stifled her outrage. It was true she'd left him few options, having allowed the matter to go over his head, but she was increasingly certain that was for the best. She wasn't about to let fear of losing her position prevent her from doing what was right.

            The streets led them briefly through the market district. Here she could see evidence of the turmoil the capital had suffered. Whole buildings burnt to the ground, some recently enough to still be smoldering, and enough refuse littered the cobblestones to make her think a battle had occurred. Even in the dim evening light the dark splatters of blood were unmistakable.

            Lord Seeker Lambert was clearly finished with their conversation, but she couldn't leave it at that. "There is one other matter," she said reluctantly. "I have new information on the murders."

            "Indeed?" His tone was acidic. "Strange how there have not been any more murders since Enchanter Rhys left us."

            "Be that as it may, he is not responsible."

            "Then who is?"

            "That . . . will require some explanation."

            He turned in his saddle to level an incredulous glare at her. She tried not to look away. She knew that Cole would be difficult to explain, even under the best circumstances, but that didn't mean she shouldn't try. "You will be debriefed at the White Spire," he stated. "You can make your explanations then, Ser Evangeline. Until that time, we have an audience to contend with."

            The Lord Seeker appeared annoyed by the prospect, but it gave Evangeline hope. The Divine she remembered from the failed assassination in the palace struck her as a fair and just person. All Evangeline could do was silently pray to the Maker that His holy servant was granted the wisdom to see them through this.

            It was a small hope, but she clung to it with all her might.

            Chapter 16

           
Rhys had been to the Grand Cathedral only once before. Shortly
after his elevation to senior enchanter, he'd been brought in with Adrian and several others who had been elevated along with him to meet Divine Beatrix III. A courtesy, really, and Rhys remembered standing there in the stifling heat for several hours before Most Holy made her appearance.

            It had been less than a year before her death, and at the time he wouldn't have been surprised if she'd expired on the spot. He remembered a shriveled old woman helped into the chamber by no less than four attendants, all but collapsing under the weight of her scarlet robes. The thick, golden medallion hanging around her neck seemed to pull her head down toward the ground, and her great headdress hung askew.

            When she reached the Sunburst Throne, the Divine had blinked her eyes and looked around in confusion. "Where are we?" she'd asked, Rhys noting that not more than three teeth remained in her mouth. "Is it time to break my fast already? I told them I wasn't hungry. No more porridge, I said!"

            One of the attendants had leaned in close. "The mages, Most Holy."

            The woman's beady eyes went wide in shock. "Mages?!" She searched the room, almost falling over in her agitation. "Andraste's grace, are we under attack?!"

            It had taken the attendants, as well as a pair of nearby templars, to finally calm the Divine down and assure her that, no, the evil mages were not here to attack anyone. They got her settled, a pile of rags seated on a throne that dwarfed her in both size and majesty, and then she immediately proceeded to fall asleep. Rhys and the others had been "introduced" one after the other, everyone pretending not to notice the old woman's thunderous snoring.

            He had never considered himself the most faithful of Andrastians. Perhaps it was being raised by the Chantry, or simply being a mage and thus less impressed by events some might call miraculous. Still, he remembered being disappointed. All that preparation, and the vast humility he'd felt stepping into that chamber, only to discover the most exalted person in all of Thedas was simply . . . human.

            Now here he was, seven years later, and the Grand Cathedral looked just the same. The structure stood in a walled compound on the far end of Val Royeaux, once having existed outside the capital until the city literally grew around it. It was an imposing fortress of grey stone and arches that seemed to reach high up to the sky. Despite the beauty on display, golden statues and colorful stained glass that reached from one end of the structure to the other, the place possessed a somberness that told of its bloody past.

            The Chantry, after all, was a religion born from a war that had shaken all of Thedas. Places like the Grand Cathedral and the White Spire had once been fortresses that had endured countless battles, and all were built upon the bones of countless dead.

            It made him wonder if more would be added to that count today.

            Once again he stood in the audience chamber, staring at the empty throne. This late at night the stained glass windows were dark, and only the Eternal Brazier cast any light, the flames in its marble basin making every shadow dance. The forty- foot- tall statue of Andraste, depicted as a robed woman with the sword of justice held aloft, seemed particularly ominous now. It was as if she stared down, knowing what lay ahead and pitying him for it.