"Take a letter, boy," he snapped.
The page nearly yelped in fear, dropping the cloak as well as the papers he carried. The Lord Seeker waited impatiently as the boy scrambled to recover it all. He hung up the cloak and then sat at the tiny desk, dipping a writing pen into the inkwell with a shaky hand.
"Maker's breath, boy. If that letter ends up illegible, I'll have your hide."
The page gulped. "Yes, my lord." His hand slowed, even if his panicked breaths did not. Lambert would be fortunate if the boy made it through the entire letter without expiring on the spot. Well, it didn't matter, so long as it was written and delivered tonight. He unstrapped his armor as he dictated:
Most Holy,
The Seekers are well aware of the part you played in the rebellion. You call me to the Grand Cathedral in the middle of the night on "urgent" business only to speak of trivial matters? And then, when I return to the White Spire, I discover chaos . . . and one of your agents in the midst of the apostates.
Did you think I would not notice? Did you believe yourself above repercussions for such acts? It was a dark day when the Chantry placed such an incapable woman upon the Sunburst Throne. I will not stand idle and watch you destroy what ages of tradition and righteousness have built.
In the twentieth year of the Divine Age, the Nevarran Accord was signed. The Seekers of Truth lowered our banner and agreed to serve as the Chantry's right hand, and together we created the Circle of Magi. With the Circle no more, I hereby declare the Accord null and void. Neither the Seekers of Truth nor the Templar Order recognize Chantry authority, and instead we will perform the Maker's work as it was meant to be done, as we see fit.
Signed this day on the fortieth year of the Dragon Age,
Lord Seeker Lambert van Reeves
He walked over to the desk and snatched the letter up just as the page finished. Scanning it over, he nodded approvingly. "Fix it with my seal and place it in Ser Arnaud's hands. Tell him he is to personally bring it to the Grand Cathedral. Personally. Is that understood?"
"Yes, my lord." The page rushed out of the chamber so quickly he almost tripped. Lambert slammed the door shut and allowed himself a smile. He imagined the Divine reading that. Without the templars, the Chantry was toothless— nothing more than a bunch of old women armed only with words. What would she do? Try to convince the people, after ages of teaching them mages were to be feared and contained, that now everything was different?
In three days the templar host would march on Andoral's Reach. With any luck, by the time he returned victorious the Chantry would have come to its senses and chosen a new Divine . . . one that would be eager to reach a new Accord with the seekers, placing the power much more firmly where it belonged.
The Lord Seeker removed the rest of his armor, dimmed the glowlamp, and crawled into his bed. He would sleep well to night. Soon he would be a hero, the mages would be put back in their place, and all would be right with the world. It was a good day, indeed.
As sleep slowly came, he became aware that something was wrong. A sound in the darkness— the faintest creak, like his door opening. Immediately he reached for his sword by the bed, but before he could reach it something was upon him. A man pushed him back down and placed a dagger against his throat. He froze.
In the dim moonlight that filtered in through the window, he caught a glimpse of the intruder's shaggy blond hair and immediately recognized him. "Demon," he growled, and hissed in pain as the blade pressed against his flesh.
The young man leaned close, his expression one of deadly intent. "There was a Cole," he whispered. "You forgot him in that cell, and I heard his cries when no one else would. I went to him, and held his hand in the darkness until it was over. When the templars found him, they erased everything to hide their shame . . . and I was helpless to act." Sorrow, and perhaps even regret, crossed the young man's face, but only for a moment. "I'm not helpless any longer." The words sent a chill through Lambert's heart.
"What do you want from me?"
The young man smiled coldly.
"I want you to look into my eyes."
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
David Gaider, Asunder
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