Chapter 168: Guilt Trips

The pyre for George, the templar whose real name had been Patrick, was up on the roof of the tower that night. All of the wardens – including the newly Joined ones who were still recovering – came; Fred had to be carried. My tear ducts had finally sorted themselves out, and I cried openly. It wasn’t the first death I’d seen from a Joining, but it was the first time it had been someone I knew. I’d relied on Avernus’ improved potion to prevent it – but he’d never promised no one would die. Just fewer.

I hadn’t spoken to Fred yet; I was afraid, quite honestly. I hadn’t wanted to be there when he found out that not only was he sick, but his best friend was dead. I felt responsible, though I wasn’t even – technically – a Warden. I dreaded seeing the pain in his eyes.

I wasn’t the only one upset, I knew; Aedan had barely spoken since the rest of the new Wardens had been carried to their rooms, and Alistair held me just a bit too tightly while I cried. Will this be our life, now? Like Duncan, trying not to get to know the recruits, because we’ll lose some of them? The thought hurt.

After the pyre had burned down, Aedan, Zevran, Alistair, and I collapsed into the sitting room in our quarters, huddling together for comfort. Even Zev, who regarded death with a sort of amused disdain most days, was quiet. All of us were aware that it could have been us; we all shared a sense of guilt, misplaced though it was.

The next day I worked up the courage to go see Fred; I felt guilty for the relief I experienced knowing someone else had had to tell him the news. He was alone when I got there. Aedan and Alistair had been to see him already, and from what I’d heard he’d had a steady stream of visitors, including the other new Wardens. I knocked quietly, not wanting to disturb him, almost hoping to find he was asleep, but he answered my knock right away.

I crept inside and sat in the chair he indicated with a casual wave.

“Hi.” My voice cracked a little, and I cleared my throat, embarrassed.

“Hi.” His tone was listless, and he didn’t quite meet my eyes. He was interrupted before he could say anything else with a coughing fit that made my chest ache just hearing it.

“I won’t ask how you’re feeling.” I looked down. “Listen, Fred—”

“No.”

“Pardon?” I glanced up to see him glowering at me.

“My name isn’t Fred. Maybe that was cute when there were two of us and we were a matched set – what was it you said? They were twins, right, your fictional Fred and George? Well, it’s not cute anymore. My name is Daniel.”

I nodded sadly. “Fair enough. I’m sorry, Daniel. I don’t have anything clever to say. I can’t make it better. I am sorry that this happened – that you’re sick, and that he didn’t survive.”

I was greeted with silence. I reached out and gripped his hand lightly, then stood. “If I could change it ... well. If there’s some way I can help, just let me know, alright?”

I stepped outside and turned to close the door before he spoke. “Thank you for not offering useless platitudes.”

I nodded and closed the door. Outside, looking oddly uncomfortable in a simple peasant dress, stood Lana, the Tranquil. She held a covered tray from the kitchen. Aedan had told me she’d been trying to help care for Daniel since she’d woken, to everyone’s surprise.

“Lana? How are you feeling?”

“My physical condition is adequate.” Her expression didn’t change.

“No ill effects from the Joining?”

She twitched, a look I couldn’t interpret flitting across her face, before she took a breath and forced it away. “Nothing unexpected.”

I looked at Daniel’s closed door, back at the beautiful woman with the white starburst on her forehead, and then down the hall at the guard who was waiting for me. “Could we talk? In private?”

“I do not require privacy, your Highness.”

I winced. “Sierra, remember?” When she didn’t respond, I sighed. “Well, I require privacy. I can see that you’re busy, though. When you have a few minutes, would you come by my office? Please?”

She nodded. “As you wish. Sierra.”

I left her there and went to start on the day’s stack of paperwork.

An hour or so later, there was a knock on my door, and I looked up to see Lana hovering in the hallway. I got up and ushered her in, closing the thick wooden door behind her. I offered her a chair by the hearth, and took the one next to it.

“You wished to see me?”

I nodded. “You know that I know about the Grey Wardens, right? I know the secrets.”

“Yes.”

“So tell me, how has it been for you? Being recruited, going into the Deep Roads, taking the Joining?”

She hesitated.

“You can be honest. I won’t get you in trouble if you tell me you hate it, or something.”

“The Deep Roads are ... unpleasant.” She frowned, but the expression looked mechanical – like she’d practiced it in the mirror, not like she actually felt the emotion of it.

“Yes. Not my favourite place either.”

“The maps I made should prove useful.”

“Right...” This is not what I am looking for. “And the Joining?” If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought she was upset about something to do with the Joining earlier.

“I...” That same expression crossed her face – confusion, maybe? – but then disappeared again. “It was unfortunate.”

“Patrick, you mean. And Daniel’s illness.”

“Yes.”

“But how was it for you?”

Lana stood abruptly. “I have work to do in the library.”

I stood too, careful not to be between her and the door – I didn’t want her to feel threatened or trapped, if she was even capable of that sort of emotion. “Lana? What happened to you during the Joining?”

She looked from me to the door, then seemed to crumple into herself. “I dreamed.”

“About darkspawn?” She nodded, and sat when I gestured at her chair. “That’s quite common. Did you see an Archdemon? A dragon?” She shook her head mutely. I sat beside her. “Then what? What’s wrong?”

“Tranquil don’t dream.”

“Ah. Yes, that must have been disconcerting. How long... ?”

“I requested the rite when I was sixteen.” I raised my eyebrows, surprised. I’d heard some mages requested to be made Tranquil, but I don’t think I believed it. She continued, “I have not dreamt in ten years.”

“You know that it doesn’t mean your connection with the Fade has been restored, though, right? At least from what I can tell, darkspawn dreams aren’t normal dreams. Dwarves get them too. It’s your mind interpreting what it hears from the darkspawn hive-mind. They’re annoying, but not dangerous. No demons.”

She examined my face for a moment, and then nodded thoughtfully. “I did not know that.”

“Can I ask you something?” She nodded again. “Why did you want to be made Tranquil?”

“I was being pursued by demons. I did not believe I would be able to resist.”

“Aren’t all mages—”

“Some more than others,” she interrupted. “I believe I may have been what was once called a somniari. I experienced difficulties determining what was real, and what was a dream. It was hard to wake up. The demons pursued me even when I was awake. Rather than become possessed, I requested the Rite of Tranquility.” Her tone was so emotionless it made the words even creepier than they would have been otherwise.

I tried to hide the shock and horror I felt. “And was it the right choice?” I couldn’t help but think about poor Feynriel; I wondered how well he learned to control his abilities in Tevinter.

“I did not wish to become possessed.”

“Yes but ... tell me, Lana. If there was some way for your abilities to have been trained so that you weren’t in danger – or not more than any other mage, say – would you still have asked to be made Tranquil?”

“I do not know. I remember the dreams, but I cannot feel the emotions I experienced then. I was irrational. I do not know what I would have chosen.”

“What about now? What if Tranquility could be reversed?”

“That is not possible. The question is irrelevant.”

“Actually ... well, just humour me. If you could reverse your Tranquility, would you? Assuming your abilities could be trained so that you were safe.”

She sat quietly for a moment. “No,” she finally replied. “I am content with my existence. It is familiar. And I am safe, here, with the Wardens.”

“Which implies you weren’t, at the Circle.”

“I would prefer not to discuss my time at the Circle.”

“Okay. That’s fair. But Lana ... will you think about it? Think about telling someone what happened to you in the Circle so we can stop it from happening to anyone else, and think about whether you would like to have your Tranquility cured? I assure you, the question isn’t at all irrelevant.”

She agreed, still looking quite uncomfortable, and took her leave to head to the library and the solitude of the books waiting for her there.

It took a few days for the mood around the Peak to recover; everyone, including Patrick, had known the risk of the Joining, and while we would miss him, the world didn’t stop because he was gone. Daniel continued to recover, with help from Wynne and Donall, but he wasn’t the same person anymore. He’d never been exactly jolly, but he was clearly bitter in the aftermath of Patrick’s death, not that I could blame him. The only person who didn’t suffer from his new, irritable demeanor was Lana; he went out of his way to stay polite and calm around her, and she seemed to spend much of her spare time in his room, just reading quietly and making sure he wasn’t alone – and he didn’t have the heart to send her away.

When he was physically well enough, he took to sparring again – and training Lana himself in hand-to-hand combat. Everyone was surprised – though he’d never shown signs of being abusive, a templar working closely with a Tranquil seemed quite unusual – and I knew almost everyone had taken pains to check in with Lana that she was fine, and to watch over them while they were together. It was sweet, but sort of funny – it got to the point that the Tranquil woman started denying abuse to everyone who approached her, even if they had been about to ask something completely different. I hoped that, if she was capable of feeling it, she’d have appreciated it.

Dougall arrived at the Peak shortly thereafter. He allowed me a fond hug when I first saw him, and greeted the others with broad smiles. He was appropriately impressed with the Keep when we showed him around, making all the right appreciative noises – and then we all quietly withdrew to allow him to reunite with Wynne in some semblance of privacy. I had no doubt, however, that the entire Keep would know which room he slept in before morning.

It was Wynne’s. Shocking.

Dougal stayed only a few days; he seemed reluctant to go, but had promised his Warden Commander to get Seranni to Weisshaupt as quickly as possible. I was still anxious about the three of them travelling alone – though none of them was helpless, I knew – but Seranni had made up her mind, and I wouldn’t disrespect her by doubting it. Her sacrifice could save me scrutiny that I didn’t want, after all. I sparred with her a couple of times before they left; she’d improved dramatically since the last time. Trial by fire; that should be the Fereldan Warden motto.