Asunder (45 page)

            Not that he wanted to read. What he wanted to do was march out of his quarters and tell the entire tower exactly what had happened in Adamant, what Pharamond had done, and what the templars were going to brush under a rug if they could get away with it. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, no matter how much trouble it got him into. He was already up to his eyeballs in trouble, and had been ever since this whole thing started.

            Or perhaps that was just the frustration talking.

            Mostly he worried. He was certain Evangeline was in trouble for trying to help, and she knew that was a possibility even when she made her offer. That she did so anyhow made her worthy of respect. If only there were more templars like her, the Circle wouldn't be in the mess it was.

            That was wishful thinking, however. There weren't many templars like her. Most were so wrapped up in their authority they couldn't see past it. They were jailors, and the mages were prisoners to be either reviled or pitied. The Divine might be sympathetic to mages, but that didn't stop centuries of Chantry doctrine teaching people to blame magic for events that happened a thousand years ago.

            Rhys was also worried about Cole. He hadn't come to visit the entire week. Not that Cole had ever ventured up to his quarters before, but if there were anyone who could sneak past the guards it would be him. Did something happen to him? Was he frightened by the audience with the Divine, or did he feel betrayed? Rhys had desperately looked for Cole when they were being led out of the Grand Cathedral, but seen nothing.

            And now there was only silence. There was only one person who visited Rhys on a regular basis, and that in and of itself was a mixed blessing.

            As if on cue, a quiet knock sounded on his door.

            "I'm here, Wynne."

            The door opened, and the old woman peeked inside. She wore a new robe, this one black just as the first enchanters wore. The fact she technically hadn't earned such a robe was irrelevant, considering the unique place Wynne held in the Circle. She mentioned to Rhys that she'd had the old robes burned; after traveling in the rain and sleeping in the mud for weeks, she didn't want to see them ever again.

            Wynne spotted him and smiled. "I didn't think you'd be anywhere else. I simply didn't want to wake you." She came in carrying a tray of food: biscuits and cheese, plus a bowl of steaming soup. The aroma immediately awakened his appetite. The Lord Seeker wasn't trying to starve him, exactly, but it seemed like the templars brought meals only when they remembered to— which wasn't very often. If it weren't for Wynne's frequent visits, he'd likely be eating his fingers by now.

            "Thank you." He took the tray and immediately began shoving the biscuits into his mouth. Perhaps a little greedily, but Wynne didn't appear to notice. She sat on the edge of his cot and watched him, folding her hands in her lap.

            "You'll be happy to know the army has finally marched," she said. "It appears the Marquis is going to support the Empress after all."

            "I didn't realize that was in question," he said between mouthfuls.

            She shrugged. “There's apparently been talk of deposing the Empress, especially with all the rumors coming from the east. Some say she's dead, others say she's been captured. Still others say she's holed up with her army at Jader, and that Gaspard has cut off the western highway. I think that's more likely."

            "Is the Circle going to be called on to fight?" He chuckled lightly. "I mean, I can just
imagine
how that would go over . . ."

            "The Divine wishes to wait until after the conclave, which is a prudent move on her part. Leliana seems to think it'll be unlikely even then, not unless Gaspard marches on Val Royeaux."

            "Leliana?"

            "You saw her in the Grand Cathedral, next to the Divine. An old friend."

            Ah, another "old friend" of Wynne's. Rhys was beginning to wonder just how many of those she had. "I suppose the first enchanters have started to arrive?" he asked.

            "You suppose correctly. Many are already here. Briaus arrived from Hossberg last night, and Irving from Ferelden this morning. I understand the Grand Enchanter is in Val Royeaux as well, but if so she hasn't shown up at the tower yet." The last she said with a frown.

            "I guess you'd rather she'd stayed in Cumberland?"

            "Fiona was once a Grey Warden. Considering one does not normally
leave
the Wardens, this makes her something of a . . . an anomaly." She considered, frowning. "Of course, so am I, so I suppose it makes little difference. Still, it was her election to the position that caused the conclave to be disbanded in the first place."

            "You make it sound like her fault."

            "Who else's? Mine?" She shrugged. "Fiona campaigned diligently for in de pen dence from the Circle. Grand Enchanter Briaus had never allowed such a vote, correctly believing it would only antagonize the Chantry. With her election, everything changed."

            Rhys stopped eating, and studied Wynne carefully. She was torn, even he could see that. With the conclave less than a week away, she had to be considering what she was going to say. He wondered that himself. "So," he began carefully, "all these visits and we haven't yet talked about what we're going to do at the conclave."

            "Are we going to do something?"

            "I thought we might." In the face of her amused expression, he scowled. "I mean, considering how you alienated the Divine, I figured you'd abandoned her whole 'fix the Circle' plan." When she laughed out loud, his scowl deepened. "Or not."

            "Oh my dear boy." Her laughter subsided, and she looked at him apologetically. "Do forgive me. Of course you don't know— who do you think asked me to send those messages? The Divine had no more idea than I did what we would find in Adamant, but her instructions were clear: if I discovered Pharamond's research had born fruit, I was to contact the first enchanters immediately."

            "So it's a game, then?"

            "She came into power within a Chantry accustomed to a Divine too senile to rule. There are those who resent her fiercely, and will look for the slightest opportunity to circumvent her wishes. If she pursues a policy of reform, she must do so very carefully."

            "Reform? You think the templars will allow that?"

            Her smile was mysterious. "I believe it's our duty to try."

            Hadn't she already tried? Everyone had tried, for centuries now. If the rebellion at Kirkwall proved anything, it was that the middle path allowed everyone to pretend an amicable solution was possible. Still, there was no point in arguing with Wynne about it. Her path was clearly set.

            He cut off a large wedge of cheese and offered some to her. She shook her head politely. "Last time you were here," he said as he ate, "you said you were going to speak to Pharamond."

            That saddened her. She idly pulled at the hem of her robe for several moments before responding. "He's . . . not doing well. Lord Seeker Lambert has scheduled the Rite of Tranquility for the night before the conclave, and the wait is killing him."

            "What? Why are they waiting?"

            "Why do you think? Everyone in the tower already knows what happened to him. Lambert wishes to leave it until the last minute so no one has a chance to react."

            "Ah."

            They were quiet then. Rhys finished his meal and Wynne watched him. Other than the wind howling outside of his tiny window, there wasn't a single sound. Not more than a week ago he'd been arguing with his mother, accusing her of using him to further her ends . . . and now there was this odd familiarity with her visiting and bringing him food. He didn't know what to make of it.

            Rhys put aside his tray, finishing the last biscuit, and stared at her. She stared back at him, the moment intensely awkward. "You don't need to keep coming here," he finally said. "I already told you I would keep your secret."

            She nodded, looking off into the distance. She seemed pained, he thought. And tired. So very tired. "I said that when I first came to see you," she began. "I wanted to see what my son had become without any guidance from me. That is true, but . . . I thought I was dying. The war in Ferelden was over, and I believed the spirit could not keep me alive for long. I had to see you, at least once."

            "Then why didn't you come back?"

            She looked at him, her eyes moist. Reaching out, she cupped his cheek; it was a gentle, affectionate gesture. "Because you were fine. You were lovely. What could I do except cause you damage?"

            "Damage? But . . ."

            "What use would you have for an old woman, Rhys? You lived your entire life without me, and here I was an abomination and a crusader to save the Circle? You joined the Libertarians, and I was content to let you find your own path."

            "So that's it?" He shook his head, moving her hand away from his face. "You thought you were dying, and when you didn't the only reason you came back was because you thought you could use me?"

            Wynne shook her head, horrified. "No, you don't understand. Rhys, I . . ."

            There was a knock at the door.

            Who could it be? One of the guards? Both of them sat there, at a loss. "Go away!" he called.

            From behind the door, he heard an angry whisper: "Rhys, it's me!" It was Adrian. She quickly darted through the door and closed it behind her, skidding to a startled halt when she realized Wynne was also present.

            "For the love of Andraste," Rhys breathed, "what are you
doing
? Shouldn't you be locked in your room?"

            Wynne stood up. "I'll leave the two of you to your business."

            Adrian blocked her path. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you as well."

            "I think you and I have spoken enough. If anyone asks, I never saw you." She walked around Adrian and slipped out the door. Rhys watched her go, and had a sinking feeling she wasn't going to come back. Suddenly he regretted saying what he did. That wasn't a good way to leave things.

            He frowned as Adrian plopped herself down on the cot. "Rhys, she's here!" she gushed, positively vibrating with excitement. "The Grand Enchanter is here!"

            "So I've heard."

            "No, I mean
here
. In the tower!"

            "How do you know that? And how did you even get here?"

            She waved the question away dismissively. "Says the man who snuck out of his own room not too long ago. I've been busy all week, staying in contact with the Libertarians. What have
you
been doing?"

            "Keeping low."

            "Well, stop it. We need you. The Grand Enchanter is going to call for a new vote at the conclave."

            He sat back, stunned. "That's insane. We're supposed to be debating Pharamond's research, not talking about in de pen dence. The Lord Seeker will be watching us like hawks. There’s no way he'll let that happen."

            Adrian was thrilled. He could see the determination in her eyes. What she was waiting for her entire life seemed close at hand, but what was that? War? Would they all be slaughtered? How far did they want to push it?

            "That doesn't matter," she said. "It's a gesture, and one that needs to happen. If the templars do anything, the entire Circle of Magi will know about it." She grabbed Rhys by the shoulders, almost shaking him in her intensity. "Just think! We'll be there, right at the center of everything when it happens. History in the making!"

            "A lot of bad things happen in history, Adrian."

            She pulled away, instantly switching to a hurt expression. For a moment she was silent, and then she frowned. "It's that templar, isn't it?" she asked suspiciously. "Are you worried she'll get hurt? If the Lord Seeker makes a move, you think she'll be forced to stand with him?"

            He sighed. "No, that's not it."

            "Then what?" Adrian stood up, agitatedly pacing around the tiny room before wheeling on him and holding her hands out in desperate appeal. "Tell me what's changed! We joined the Libertarian fraternity together. We used to sit up at night and talk about what a Circle run by mages would be like, how we would help run it. Don't you still want that?"

            Rhys ran a hand through his hair, trying to control his frustration. She was looking at him in helpless confusion, and he gestured toward the bed. "Sit down, Adrian." When she hesitated, he repeated it more forcefully: "Sit. Down."

            She sat.

            He took her hands in his, to make certain she listened. "I
do
still want that," he stated. "I just don't want anyone to get hurt. Not Evangeline, not you, not Cole, not anyone."