Instead of being relocated to a cell in the Spire, Rhys was restricted to a pleasant and airy room of the Grand Cathedral. Well, he was sure it was meant to be pleasant and airy, but the siege had forced them to shutter the windows, and now it was as dark as any Circle cell. He got the rather uncomfortable feeling that he actually was being confined to his rooms to protect him. The look on the Lord Seeker's face still haunted him, and he knew that he had not forgotten his suspicions of Rhys.
It had been several days and Cole had not reappeared once, at least, not that Rhys could remember. He hoped nothing had happened to him. He was fairly sure that if the Lord Seeker or another Templar killed him, Rhys would hear about it, but he couldn't be positive.
Pharamond and Evangeline were likewise confined to their own rooms. Rhys hadn't had a chance to speak with Evangeline about her choice to protect Pharamond, and had not so much as seen her for a week.
Wynne and Adrian had the run of the Cathedral, but could not leave it. Adrian complained very loudly about this to Rhys, about how she was as good in a fight as anyone, but the Divine insisted on making her stay.
Both Wynne and Adrian tried to visit Rhys at least once a day. Wynne brought him news of the siege, and what she could tell him of the situations with the mages, and Adrian told him the goings-on inside the Cathedral that she probably shouldn't know about.
Adrian was restless, excited. More than once she had spoken of Enchanter de Fer with no small amount of admiration—if Rhys didn't know any better, he would swear she was getting an adolescent crush on the woman.
Well, apart from the loyalty to the Circle, the Enchanter was certainly Adrian's type.
A knock sounded on the door, interrupting his thoughts.
“I'm here,” he called, and the door opened to reveal Wynne.
“I didn't think you would be anywhere else,” she said with a wan smile. She came bearing bread and cheese, which she set on the small table next to Rhys' bed, and sat down on the chair across from him.
He took a piece of bread and ate, but wasn't hungry. His mouth was dry from nerves.
“Do you have any more news?” he asked her.
“The army of the Marquis is marching.”
“Under whose banner? The Empress' or...?”
Wynne sighed and rubbed her temples. “Leliana said the Marquis would have supported the Empress,” she said. “But the Empress is still missing. So it seems he might just be supporting himself.”
“Oh,” Rhys closed his eyes.
“Leliana believes most of the Empress' army will be usurped into Dubois' if she doesn't return soon,” Wynne said.
Rhys was silent.
“Leliana also told me that there is some good news,” Wynne added, her face brightening just the slightest bit, but Rhys got the impression that was more for his benefit than it actually being good news. “The Empress yet lives, according to her sources. She simply isn't in Orlais.” Wynne sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I don't know the good it will do, either way.”
He sat up, brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“This woman is the one who burned down one of her own cities to quell a rebellion,” Wynne said, her expression pensive. “She's as bloodthirsty as the rest, when one comes down to it.”
Rhys blinked, surprised. “You're cynical.”
“No, lad. I am merely old. I have known good rulers in my time, and Celene...” Wynne shook her head. Her brow was knitted in worry, and he could practically see her going over the problem in her head.
“Will the rest of the Circle be called upon to fight?” he clenched his hands at the thought. “Besides the Spire, I mean?”
“That depends on what is decided at the Conclave,” Wynne said.
“What do you mean?” Rhys asked, raising his eyebrows. “We're just there to discuss Pharamond's research...aren't we? Not the siege?”
“Rhys...” Wynne looked away. “You cannot have come this far and believe that that is the only reason. If the Grand Enchanter is coming...she will not leave until she's drawn blood.”
Rhys stared at her.
“Figuratively, Rhys.”
“You sounded so serious...” Rhys tried a pale laugh.
“I have seen her fight often enough. No, if the Divine called her here, it is only in dire need. The time for reform or moderation is over.” she sighed again, and Rhys marveled at how tired she sounded.
“That's not like you.”
“The times have changed, Rhys.” she looked at him. “What have you heard, in your dreams?”
He froze. She must have recognized his expression, because she nodded.
“I know. This is not the time for division, but we might not be able to stop it. Things are happening much too quickly. I--” she stopped, and started again. “I have heard terrible things in my dreams.”
“Me too,” Rhys murmured. Him, and Cole, and Evangeline, and Adrian, and anyone who had ever been to the Fade.
The white wolf with red eyes.
He remembered its image. It had done nothing—said nothing—hardly seemed to notice him and Cole and Evangeline. But he remembered it. It had stood on a hill, far away from the scene of the nightmare, and watched.
Rhys had looked at it, met its eyes, and knew--
Something terrible was coming.
“We can't—you won't let that influence you decisions, will you?” He asked.
“I will try not to,” Wynne said. “And I do not want this to divide us. You speak of freedom, but it would only end in suffering. I do not want more war.”
“Wynne, I don't...it isn't like that.”
“No? Then what is it like?”
“It's...” Rhys sighed. “I don't want to argue about it.”
They both fell silent for a moment, and the silence was stifling. Wynne seemed somehow disappointed, but he had no idea what he'd said wrong.
“You don't need to keep coming to me,” Rhys said. “I told you--”
“And why not?” Wynne wanted to know. “Why should a mother not want to see her son?”
“You never wanted to before.”
“Rhys.” she looked at him, her gaze unfathomably sad. “You know better.”
Rhys did know better, and he looked away. They had taken him away from her many times before. He had never been raised by his mother; just the teachers in the Circle. His memories of her were slapdash and few and far between; white hair and a soft laugh, a healing hand in a fever, a deep, implacable calmness...
“You never fought,” he told her. “You say the Circle is such a good thing, but you never even cared when it drove your son away. They did it on purpose.” he felt...childish, talking about it.
“I know,” Wynne said quietly. “I know.”
“Wynne...” he couldn't look at her. “This isn't fair.”
“Of course it isn't.”
His shoulders slumped, and he felt like he'd run out of words to say. The gulf between them felt insurmountable. “I never wanted to see this. I never wanted to be here.”
“Oh, Rhys...” she reached out, then pulled back at the last moment. “No one ever does.”
He met her eyes, and opened his mouth again, when a knock came on the door, and they both jumped.
“Who--?” Wynne hissed, but Rhys had a suspicion of who it was.
“Adrian?” he called.
The door opened, showing the redhead. “Good, you're both here,” she said, glancing at Wynne.
Rhys got to his feet. “What is it?”
“The Grand Enchanter is here,” Adrian said in a rush.
Wynne got to her feet as well. “I need to see her,” she said. “Adrian, where is she?”
“I—she's at the Spire,” Adrian said. “I just heard some of the Sisters talking about it.”
Wynne frowned.
“What are you going to do?” Rhys asked.
“I need to see her,” she said. “Before the Conclave—it's important.”
“Wynne--” Adrian started, but Wynne brushed past her, her expression intent. She was gone.
Adrian looked at Rhys. “What did she have to say?”
Rhys shook his head. “It's more bad news from the military,” he said with a sigh. “Have you heard?”
Adrian winced. “Yes,” she said. “It isn't going so well. The Orlesians definitely picked a bad time to have their civil war.”
“I don't think anyone picks a time to have a war, Adrian.”
Adrian snorted. “That's what you think.”
“Why are you here, Adrian?” he sighed. Her passion was exhausting to him now, her nervous energy making him nervous in return.
“The Grand Enchanter's probably going to call for a vote on secession again,” Adrian said.
Rhys nodded. “I know. Wynne thinks so too.”
Adrian raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yes. She thinks that the Grand Enchanter won't leave until something drastic happens. And she knows her well enough, I suppose...”
“Well, it'd be about time,” Adrian said, hands on hips. “Rhys, do you know what this means?” she demanded.
“It means people will get hurt,” he snapped, and she raised her eyebrows, startled at his anger.
“They were already doing that!” she countered.
“No—if the Grand Enchanter calls a vote, then the Lord Seeker will--”
“Do whatever he was already planning to do!” Adrian shouted over him, and he was shocked into silence.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“What do you think Madame de Fer was talking about when she said that something bad was going to happen?” Adrian demanded. “Open your eyes for once in your life—didn't you see the way Her Holiness talked to him? Something's already gone very wrong, Rhys, and the best we can do is get out of the way!”
Rhys shook his head. “No--”
Adrian let out a frustrated growl. “Why are you so dense?” she demanded, her eyes overbright. “Will you talk to Wynne—tell her—tell her we need her on our side--”
“No,” he said. He couldn't use her the same way she'd used him. She could have gone to anyone else to be a medium, but she'd wanted him. “I can't do that.”
“Of course you can!” she threw up her hands. “Don't be an idiot! Everything's already going to the Void in a handbasket, what difference does it make?”
“What difference—Adrian, this could make things worse!”
Adrian stared at him. “How?” she demanded, flabbergasted. “We are in the middle of a siege, Orlais is falling apart, it might just be the end of the world if I'm reading my dreams right, and you think us wanting to get away from all that would make it worse?”
“Adrian, it's not the end of the world,” Rhys sighed.
“No? Then what do you call that white wolf?”
“Just because people are seeing it doesn't mean--”
“Then what is it?” she demanded. “You're the spirit medium here!”
“I--” he sighed and sat back down. “Adrian...”
“I don't want to lose you,” she said. “I...” she shook her head and glared at him. “Never mind,” she snapped. “Never mind. If you won't help, if you won't get your head out of the damned sand, then don't worry about it.”
He reached out as she turned to leave, caught her wrist, and she glared at him.
“What?” she demanded. “What is it?”
“I--” I love you was on the tip of his tongue.
But it would have been a lie.
Don't leave me would have been more accurate. You're my oldest friend. I'll be alone without you.
Every other person I've ever cared about has left, please, don't you do it too--
He was silent for too long. She stared at him, and after a moment, yanked her arm out of his grip. She turned and slammed the door behind her. He listened to her footsteps fade into the distance.
The meeting of the College was tense, nervous, and convened in record time. Harried mages all gathered into a hall in the Grand Cathedral that was a little too small for all of them. The only Templars there were Evangeline and another man that Rhys didn't know. Evangeline wasn't even there to guard them, not truly, and was instead escorting Pharamond.
The lack of Templars made Rhys nervous. He heard the other Enchanters murmuring about it, casting about and trying to see if there were guards of any kind.
Rhys went to stand by Evangeline and Pharamond, to get out of the way of the crowd. She and Pharamond seemed to be getting along quite well, actually, chatting quietly. Evangeline wore a very patient expression that looked odd on her, and when Rhys came closer, he realized she was listening to Pharamond give her a lengthy treatise on the minutae of minding the Circle libraries.
“And you wouldn't even believe how many young apprentices wander into the library with sticky fingers—oh, hello, Rhys,” Pharamond said a little too loudly and smiled. He was pale and shifted from foot to foot, clearly nervous.
“Hello, Pharamond,” Rhys summoned a smile. “Ser Evangeline.”
“Rhys,” Evangeline inclined her head in a respectful manner. “How are you?”
“I'm...well enough.”
He and Evangeline looked at each other, Rhys rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't know what to say to her.
“I hope they get started soon,” Pharamond said. He looked around, his green eyes wide. “I still don't like these crowds!”
“It will be alright,” Evangeline assured him, patting his shoulder gently. Rhys was struck with a sudden, bizarre feeling of jealousy. They had shared that terrible vision in the Fade, and yet Pharamond was the one she made moves to comfort, even though she and Rhys had been separated for days.
“Why are there so few Templars here?” Rhys asked, looking around to try and take his mind off of it.
“Her Holiness thought that you should have privacy,” the other Templar came up to them. He had a very deep, very calm voice. “She felt that since you were in the Grand Cathedral, you would be safer than you would be anywhere else.”
“And what did the Lord Seeker have to say about that?”
“Nothing. It is ultimately Her Holiness' choice on what goes on in the Grand Cathedral.” he smiled. “I am Ser Barris. You're Rhys?”
Rhys nodded.
“And...Pharamond?”
“Yes,” Pharamond gave a slightly shaky smile.
“A pleasure to meet you.”
“You as well!” Pharamond's voice cracked a bit, and Rhys winced, but neither Evangeline nor Barris moved a muscle.
After a few moments, the Grand Enchanter took center stage.
Grand Enchanter Fiona was small and thin, wearing a plain woolen mages’ robe, her dark hair cropped short. She looked haggard, sleepless and worn. She was a stark contrast to tall and immaculate Vivienne.
Despite this, she had a gravity to her that drew all eyes to her. She called for order, and immediately all attentions were fixed upon her.
“We're here, apparently, to discuss the findings of one Pharamond,” she pointed to him. “And how evidently he found a way to reverse Tranquility.”
Pharamond went dead white as all eyes turned to him. Evangeline gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. Again, Rhys was struck with that frankly inappropriate surge of jealousy, and he snuck a look at Adrian, who stuck close by Fiona's side. His stomach felt knotted.
“Um—yes,” Pharamond said, taking a deep breath. “Yes, I have.”
“Well, good,” Fiona said. “Pleased to hear it. Now that that's out of the way, let us move on to other matters, shall we?”
“Grand Enchanter...” Irving spoke in a warning tone, but Fiona spoke over him.
“Between the incident in Kirkwall, the hostilities in Orlais, and the bad dreams, the Circles have been put into jeopardy.”
“The dreams in particular are troubling,” First Enchanter Rivella, of Dairsmuid, spoke up. “Practically all the seers at Dairsmuid have been having bad omens...”
Fiona nodded. “Exactly so. So, we need to find a solution.”
“And what would that be?” drawled Raddick, of Starkhaven.
“The answer is obvious,” Fiona said. “We should secede.”
The hall was so quiet the drop of a pin could be heard.
The first one to speak was Madame de Fer, standing in one smooth motion. “Secession? Darling, what a quaint idea,” Vivienne’s tinkling laugh made Fiona scowl. “I am positive you do not realize the ramifications of that action.”
“The ramifications would be we are out from under the Templars’ boots,” Fiona snapped.
“Yes, and with no protection of any kind should some villager not take kindly to having a mage about,” Vivienne said. “Oh, and of course, no one to stop demons.”
“Do not try and use that old argument on me,” Fiona snapped. “The Templars did not seem to do much good against the demons at Calenhad, did they? Ah, no, my memory becomes clear: it was myself, Commander Surana, Enchanter Wynne and an apostate from a swamp who chased the demons out of there.”
“But you did have King Alistair with you on that little jaunt,” Vivienne said. “And I understand he has had Templar training.”
“This is neither here nor there,” Wynne interjected. “Secession will only cause more strife. You have seen the chaos outside—this is what results from civil war!”
“Unless, of course, war is what our dear Grand Enchanter wants,” Vivienne suggested. “After all, you appear to be quite in favor of violence, do you not?”
Fiona bared her teeth.
“I'm sorry, are we just going to ignore how this man has reversed something we previously thought was as permanent as death?” demanded Enchanter Remille, a chubby woman with a shaved head. She pointed to Pharamond, who flinched.
“I have seen a great many things,” Fiona said. “And magical research, though useful, is—not the most pressing matter at this time.”
“Why, that certainly tells us where your priorities lie, my dear,” Vivienne said with a little sniff.
“This isn't the time for bickering,” Enchanter Sinclair said. He was an older elvhen man who most often wore a disapproving expression. “Grand Enchanter, you've been pushing secession for years—I'm not sure how likely it really is.”
“Yes, or how realistic,” Gwenael, the sole Enchanter from Nevarra, knotted her fingers together.
Wynne opened her mouth to say something, but just as she did so, the door opened and Cassandrs walked in.
“Seeker Pentaghast,” Fiona looked wary, her brows knitted in worry, but she was not overly hostile. “Is something wrong?”
“Grand Enchanter,” Cassandra inclined her head. Barris came to stand by Cassandra's side. “Have you called a vote yet?”
“No, not yet. Why?” Fiona's eyes were narrowed in suspicion.
“Please, we urge you towards reconciliation,” Barris said.
Fiona frowned. “Why?”
“The Lord Seeker is planning something,” Cassandra explained. “And this tension will only make things worse.”
“Perhaps you should have thought of that before disbanding the College,” Fiona snapped.
“That was not our decision!” Cassandra said.
“No, but it was the Divine's! Do you not advise her?”
“This is a delicate time,” Cassandra snapped. “We are trying to avoid an all-out split within the Chantry!”
“And a marvelous job you have done of that, my dear,” Vivienne said, her tone light. Cassandra glared at her. “What Seeker Pentaghast has not gotten the opportunity to tell you is that the Lord Seeker plans to kill the Divine.”
The hall was immediately in uproar. After several moments, Fiona managed to calm everyone down.
“What are you talking about?” she demanded.
Cassandra pushed the hair out of her eyes. “Lord Seeker Lambert has attempted to ally with General Dubois,” she said. “According to Dubois, who contacted us after he contacted her, if she lent him her army and they killed Justinia, Lambert would put his own Divine into power and appoint her the Empress.”
Rhys felt sick.
“And why, exactly, would she tell you this?” Fiona demanded, glaring at Vivienne.
“Because they only reason she would not ally with Lambert is if we could give her something that Lambert could not,” Cassandra said. “The aid of the Circles.”
The hall erupted into shouting again. Fiona slammed a fist down on the arm of her chair to call for silence.
“Enchanter de Fer,” she snarled. “Why did you know of this before the rest of us?”
“I was here ahead of the rest of you,” Vivienne said. “I had gotten an audience with Her Holiness some time ago, and I was the first to defend the city against that mob calling itself an army.” she tilted her head, her expression one of utter disdain. “Some individuals here actually have loyalty to their organizations, my dear, and the good Seeker thought that I was trustworthy enough to speak to.”
Fiona snorted. “Or, perhaps she was desperate,” she shook her head. “In any case—Seeker, I do not know what you would have us do. The Circles, lend their assistance to some despot?” she sneered. “I am certain you know how unappealing that idea is.”
“Is is the only one we have,” Cassandra said. “Believe me, I dislike it as much as you do.”
“You clearly do not, else you would not be asking.”
“This is ridiculous,” Enchanter Lothaire got to her feet. “You cannot treat us the way you have and then expect us to turn around and bolster your own failing leadership!”
Cassandra bristled at that, and Evangeline scowled.
“We're well aware that you have been treated in a way that's less than fitting,” Barris said, raising his hands in a calming gesture “But under Justinia, your treatment will always be better than it would be under Lambert's Divine.”
“Who doesnow.”
Before anything could be done, someone pounded on the door. Fiona let out a vulgar oath, and Cassandra went white.
“What is going on, Seeker?” Fiona asked.
“The worst thing that could be happening,” Cassandra murmured, drawing her sword.
The door banged open, and Lambert came striding in, followed by what seemed to be every Templar in the Spire.
“Lord Seeker--” Cassandra tried to interject, but Lambert cut her off.
“This will not continue,” he snapped. “This treason will be stopped.”
“Treason?” Cassandra was outraged. “You seek to kill the Divine!”
Lambert's mouth had a bitter twist to it. “I seek to protect the people from her foolish decisions,” he said, and took his sword from his sheath.
“You are interrupting a legal gathering,” Evangeline stepped forward and Lambert snarled at her, making her move back.
“I don't believe he cares,” Fiona hissed, taking her staff off of her back.
“Fiona, don't,” Wynne warned, putting out a hand, but it was too late.
A spell crackled to life in Fiona's hands, and as it did so, a battle began. Spells began to fly everywhere, the smell of magic and smoke soon filling the room. Several Silences came down at once, and several of the mages began to fight physically, without magic.
Evangeline grabbed Pharamond and ran towards the door. Rhys recovered himself and bolted for them, to be blocked by another Templar. He could hear Cassandra and Fiona both shouting, and smell the ozone scent of spellwork being done, saw a different Enchanter crack a Templar across the face with his staff, only for another Enchanter to be cut down by a sword.
An explosion rocked the room, and quite suddenly one of the walls had a hole in it. Rhys just managed to catch the sight of Evangeline's blonde hair before another Silence caught him and the world went gray.