Small Victories, Ch 2

Orsino knew it was pointless, but he went to the Chantry to talk to Elthina.  As always, he was accompanied by two templars, Ser Flynn and Ser Thrask this evening.  They followed along behind him creaking and clanking.  He wondered sometimes what Meredith thought he would do if she let him simply walk to the Chantry on his own.  His life was wrapped up in the Circle; he was a man defined by his duties.  At least this evening's escort was tolerable.  Thrask seemed a decent man, and Flynn was respectful.  

Elthina was alone in her chambers, a book on the life of Ambrosia II lay open beside her.  Orsino couldn't help but wonder if that was a subtle message.  If so, at least it wasn't Galatea she studied.  The Rite of Annulment always made him uneasy, especially in someone like Meredith's hands.  He shrugged it off and nodded to the Grand Cleric.  

"Orsino," she said wryly, "Why am I not surprised to find you here?"  
"You received my letter, didn't you?" he asked, straight to business.  There was no time for bland courtesy when a mage's life hung in the balance.  "I did, Orsino.  You make a very good case for your apprentice."  "And?" he prodded.  "And it is not my decision to make, First Enchanter.  Meredith has already decided this.  I will not interfere," Elthina said mildly.  There was regret in her voice, but it was a compassion safely removed from the situation.
  
Orsino glared at her, "You are the only one who can!  Please!  I'm only asking for a few days to look into this.  What harm in that?"  The Grand Cleric sighed and shook her head, "I will not usurp the Knight Commander's authority.  I can only offer prayer and the Maker's guidance."  "The Maker's guidance?" Orsino scowled, "And what would that be?  What wisdom?"  

Elthina raised an eyebrow at his tone, placid as always.  "Trust that what happens is for the best.  You have other mages to concern yourself with.  Let this one go.  It may be that she is lost already."  "Let it go?" he asked, voice rising.  "She will be made tranquil tomorrow!  Do you even know what that means?"  

Elthina stood, expression full of sympathy, "I do, Orsino, but you must -" A voice from the hall cut her off midsentence, "Is everything alright, Elthina?  I heard shouting."  Vael, thought Orsino, the Grand Cleric's pet noble.  The man was insufferable.  Before Elthina could say more, the First Enchanter turned to leave.  "Thank you Grand Cleric for your wisdom.  It is so comforting to know the Chantry cares for mages as well.  I will pass on your condolences, of course."  

"Orsino," she said and then fell silent as he opened the door and walked out.  Sebastian stood just outside, glaring daggers.  The mage ignored him.  Thrask and Flynn fell into step on his way out, the sound of their armor a martial counterpoint to the soft strains of the Chant being sung.  Somehow, it fit all too well.  

When they got to the Gallows courtyard, Ser Flynn went his own way, but Thrask continued to trail Orsino.  He glanced at the templar over his shoulder, annoyed.  He did not need to be warded in the walls of the Circle and if he did, one templar would do him little good.  "I can make it to my quarters unassisted," he said, trying to keep his tone neutral.  Thrask nodded and turned to go, but stopped only a few feet away.  

"First Enchanter?"  Orsino gave the man a flat look.  "Yes?"  "I know it's not my place to say anything, but I think what's being done to that mage is wrong."  The elf gave him a sad smile, "Thank you, Thrask.  It's comforting to know not all templars are motivated by a hatred of my kind."  The templar looked as if he intended to say more but fell silent, simply nodding in response.  Orsino's curiosity was piqued, "What does motivate you I wonder," he asked aloud.  Thrask took off his helmet to look the elf in the face.  "We could discuss it in your office," the templar told him.  Orsino quirked an eyebrow, but acquiesced.

They sat across from each other awkwardly.  The man obviously had something to say, but he didn't want to be the one to start.  The First Enchanter sighed, "It appears Corentine will be made tranquil tomorrow.  Do you know which templars will assist with the ritual?"  Thrask shook his head, "No.  Meredith doesn't give assignments for Harrowings or tranquility ahead of time.  She says it gives us too much time to worry about it."  

"That sounds like her," the elf agreed, waiting for the man to continue.  When he said nothing, Orsino decided a more direct approach was needed.  "So why do you do what you do, serrah?  You obviously do not see magic as a stain on humanity the way many do."  

Thrask looked away, pained.  "No, First Enchanter.  I believe magic has the potential to do good; it only needs to be guided."  The elf looked at Thrask, trying to gauge his sincerity.  This was dangerous ground.  Nothing in his face or body language seemed deceptive.  The First Enchanter nodded slowly, agreeing with the statement and Thrask let out a held breath.  "Some are too zealous in their work, seeing only the curse and not the blessing," the templar said quietly.  

Orsino looked away, uncertain how to proceed.  An unexpected ally, but how far could Thrask be trusted?  "Pigeons," the elf said finally.  The templar looked at him blankly.  "We used to keep pigeons, when I was a boy."  Thrask raised an eyebrow, still not grasping the change in topics.  Orsino frowned, continuing.  If the man didn't get it soon, he would have to be more direct.  "We kept them in cages on the roof.  They didn't mind it, most of them.  The birds were safe, and well fed.  We let them fly, but they always came back."  

Thrask nodded, comprehension dawning.  "Pigeons.  I see."  The First Enchanter gave him a tight lipped smile, "Every so often there would be a bird that simply could not be housed with the others.  For one reason or another, we would let it go.  I was always afraid something would happen to it out there, away from the roost where it could not be kept safe.  But I knew if I kept the bird caged, it would die, so I would set it free, and pray."  "Sometimes that is the only thing you can do," the templar agreed.  They looked at each other for a long moment, tentatively complicit.  

Thrask glanced away first, nervous.  "It isn't an easy thing . . . but it can be done.  Some cages are more secure than others."  Orsino agreed, "It is worth the attempt, I think."  The templar nodded again, "We have a few hours.  I will see what can be done.  A distraction would be helpful."  "When?"  Thrask looked thoughtful, and then said, "Just after evening bells, I think.  Something in the Enchanter's wing would be most . . . appreciated."  "Done," Orsino replied.  

Thrask stood, voice rising to just above a natural speaking volume, "Your concerns are being addressed First Enchanter.  If you have an issue with the templars, you must bring them to the Knight Commander.  That is all I can recommend."  "Thank you, templar.  If that is all you can offer, we are done.  You may go," Orsino answered in similar fashion.  And then he left, striding out, all armored arrogance.  The elf watched him go, wondering what madness this was.  He hoped the templar really could help.  It was Corentine's only hope now.  

They had about two hours to the evening bells, and there was a distraction he needed to create.  Orsino began to pour over ideas, something to draw attention that would not put any of his enchanters at risk.  There would be no point if freeing Corentine meant he lost someone else.  So many options . . . so few of them viable.  He ground his teeth in frustration.  

An obviously magical event was out of the question.  There were a lot of subtle ways to encourage a natural disaster of some sort, but once it began there would be no way to control it.  Too dangerous.  All that left was alchemy.  Orsino had never excelled in alchemical applications.  It seemed silly to waste time concocting vials of odd mixtures when better results could be attained through the proper application of will, but for once he was glad some mages persisted.  

Anxiety gripped him for a moment; this went against everything he believed.  Mages belonged in the Circle where they could be protected, trained, guided.  The Knight Commander turned all that on its head.  Corentine was no blood mage; she deserved better than death or tranquility.  If there was any other option, he would take it, but Meredith left him no choice.  

That left him with one all important question.  Who could be trusted to help?  There were a few Enchanters that might be sympathetic, even a few Senior Enchanters who would be happy to assist, but not a one that was skilled in alchemy.  And then it struck him.  Solvitus.  

The man's alliances were unknown, his sympathies a mystery.  He sold potions and poultices each day alongside the tranquil in the Gallows courtyard.  He was trusted by the templars, enough that they did not hound him, but he was no Loyalist.  Orsino had no need to confide details to the man, but Solvitus was not a fool.  A mage escaping the Gallows at the same time an unfortunate accident occurred with one of his admixtures would stick out.  It was a risky plan, but the best he could come up with on such short notice.

Solvitus was in his quarters, bed nearly overtaken by piles of books and the organic detritus of his more practical research.  There was a lab on another floor, but apparently he liked to work on his concoctions alone as well.  Orsino knocked lightly, standing in the hall politely.  He tried to encourage these simple courtesies among his mages; it made life more bearable to at least pretend to privacy.  "First Enchanter!  Please, come in," Solvitus said, motioning him over.  The elf crossed the threshold and after a look around, settled on moving a few books so he could perch on a rickety chair. 
 
The alchemist watched him nervously, no doubt concerned about the personal visit.  "Be calm, Solvitus.  I am not here in any official capacity.  I find myself in need of a good alchemist, that's all."  The balding man looked marginally relieved as he sat back down.  "Ah, good.  I'm glad to hear it.  What is it you need First Enchanter?"  

This was where things got a bit sticky for Orsino.  He had considered a lot of ways to word this without giving away too much.  "I am looking for something that attracts a lot of immediate attention, Solvitus.  Something loud, annoying, and a bit frightening, but that won't hurt anyone."  The alchemist raised an eyebrow, surprised.  "I wish I didn't need to ask for such a thing, but it's needed.  In fact, if you could make several I would be in your debt."  

Solvitus nodded, "I have a recipe for something that makes a loud sound and releases a noxious gas, harmless in small quantity.  But . . . First Enchanter, why would you need such a thing?"  Orsino gave him a grim look, "You know what it's like in this Circle.  I get complaints from mages every day about being harassed by templars and others.  And we have no recourse but to accept the abuse.  Any attempt to fight back, especially with magic, is a death sentence."  The man nodded, still looking confused, "It is unfortunate, but that is a price we pay for the protection we enjoy."  

"Indeed it is, and one we will continue to pay.  I just want to provide some of our more vulnerable friends a - an alarm of sorts.  A non-magical way to ward off unwelcome attention.  A last recourse, should they feel intimidated."  Comprehension dawned on Solvitus' face.  "You want it for mages to use if they are attacked?  On templars?  First Enchanter, I could not - " Orsino cut him off.  

"Not against templars.  For them.  The Knight Commander and Knight Captain are both horrified that such abuses take place, but it is so hard to know when a templar is truly out of line and when it is only a mage taking out their frustration.  This will help avoid incidents, identify the guilty, and protect innocent templars.  I have the Knight Captain's full confidence in this.  We discussed it today."  The last bit was a gamble.  If Solvitus took it upon himself to ask Cullen, Orsino would find himself in an unfortunate position.  It should be recoverable, just uncomfortable.  

"I would need the Knight Captain's express permission to distribute something like that," Solvitus said finally.  "I understand, of course!  I would never ask you to do anything like this without proper permissions.  All I want tonight is a few examples of what you can make.  I intend to test them on my own in the upper tower so I can make a recommendation."  Slowly, the man nodded. 
 
Orsino wanted to shout with relief, but he kept his expression placid.  "Thank you Solvitus.  I will be by in, oh, an hour to pick a few up.  Can you have some ready by then?"  "Of course, First Enchanter.  I can manage as many as five.  Will that do?"  The elf made a show of considering it, as if he was contemplating his plans, and then nodded, "It will be acceptable.  Be sure to make them of varying strength.  At least one as powerful as you can make without getting into toxic amounts of this gas, and one at its weakest, that will still make sound but do little else."  

Solvitus made a vague sound of agreement, and began rummaging through his books, the First Enchanter forgotten.  Orsino left quickly, heading back to his study.  The next hour would be tense, but soon it would all be over, one way or another.  He really was mad to risk so much for the life of one mage, but if her life wasn't worth saving, whose life was?

He passed the hour in fits and starts, impatient by turns.  A storm blew in from the Waking Sea, thunder rattling his window as the rain sheeted down on the Gallows.  Fitting weather, he thought.  Just as he stood to leave, a familiar armored figure filled his doorway.  "Knight Captain Cullen, how might I be of assistance?" the elf asked, cursing inside.  

For a moment the templar looked pained, "I wanted to . . . reassure you.  I am doing everything in my power to ensure the safety of your mages.  If you - if you ever have a concern, I would like to know about it."  I'm sure you would, thought Orsino.  All he said was, "Of course, Knight Captain.  I will keep that in mind."  It seemed Cullen wanted to say more, but he merely nodded and walked away.  An odd man, thought the elf.  He gave it a few minutes before following, headed up to the Enchanter's Floor.  Hopefully Solvitus was ready.  Evening bells were fast approaching, and if this fell through, there would be nothing he could do.  Nothing that would not do more harm than good.  

The alchemist did not disappoint.  He beckoned Orsino in, smiling broadly.  "First Enchanter!  I managed to create eight of these little smoke bombs for you.  They should be quite loud, though I have some concerns about the amount of smoke.  It may not be sufficient.  I thought about the application though, and it's the sound that we primarily need.  I had several ideas on mechanism but I -" The elf interrupted, smiling a bit at the man's enthusiasm.  

"Thank you, Solvitus. I am sure they will do.  After my testing we can discuss the intricacies of your design.  For now, I just need to know how they work."  "You drop them."  "That's all?"  "Yes, First Enchanter.  I packed them in cotton batting so you wouldn't set them off accidentally."  The alchemist pointed to a basket full of fluff.  
Orsino bent over it, poking into the morass until his hand touched a hard, cool surface.  "These are especially delicate," Solvitus commented.  "I only used a thin glass vial for them.  I think for proper application, a thicker pottery would be better, but we can talk about it later."  The First Enchanter nodded, glad he wasn't going to have to arrest another lengthy monologue of pointless detail.  

Just then, the evening bells began to toll.  They told the hours, sounding out last prayers to mages and templars alike.  Eight solid peals, the final one shivering into nothing, silvery chime blending with the unrelenting rain.  Orsino felt himself stiffen in anticipation, body tensing.  Solvitus gave him an odd look, and all the elf could manage was a sickly smile.  Maker, don't let him suspect anything, he thought.  

"It's getting late.  I really ought to get started," Orsino said.  "If I may, First Enchanter, it might not be the best idea to do this on the tower tonight."  The elf nodded, distracted, "Yes, of course.  I'll go to the, eh, the lab then."  He picked up the basket.  The alchemist laid a hand on his shoulder and met his eyes.  "Be careful," he said quietly, and then resumed his mask of academic disinterest.  Though his thoughts spun at the unexpected encouragement, Orsino kept all trace of worry and surprise hidden.  

The First Enchanter walked out into the hall, heading toward the labs.  Where was Thrask right now, he wondered, and Corentine . . . was she free?  Had they been caught already?  There was no way to know.  The First Enchanter hated to act blindly, but it was now or never.  He put one hand in the basket, clutching at the cotton batting to pull it to the center.  Strangely, while it was thick at the top, there was almost no fluff between vials or in the bottom.  He smiled a little and then very deliberately stumbled, sprawling forward.  

It was easy enough to shove the basket out in front, where it would take the brunt of impact.  What he didn't expect was the explosion that followed.  It threw him back into the wall, where he slid to the floor, dazed.  A huge cloud of dark, thick smoke roiled out, cotton batting and reed weave a charred mass on the ground near the broken shards.  Some mages stuck their heads out to see what the commotion was, and promptly shut their doors again.  More importantly, the templars came running.    

First came the guards from the stairs at each end, and then more from lower levels; they boiled into the hall, weapons drawn, shouting.  Meredith was there faster than the First Enchanter might have believed possible, demanding they round up every mage on the floor.  Orsino watched as they were dragged from their rooms and unceremoniously shoved into walls.  It hurt to see his people treated so, but it was gentler by far than what Corentine would get.  The Knight Commander caught sight of him moments later, blue eyes narrowing.

"You," she pointed to him, lips pressed into a tight line of disapproval.  A templar hoisted him up by his arm, wrenching it painfully.  Orsino's feet dangled just above the floor as he was placed at eye level with the Knight Commander.  "I want an explanation, mage."  Cold rage emanated from Meredith; the elf knew he needed to choose his words very carefully here.  It didn't take much effort to assume a chagrined expression.

"This is my fault Meredith.  I dropped some potions when I fell."  He gave a self-deprecating grin, hating himself for catering to the angry woman.  He just had to remember this particular woman could have his head in a heartbeat if she didn't like his answer.  The Knight Commander looked at him, disbelief clear.  "You expect me to believe this is the result of some accident?  There is forbidden magic at work here, Orsino.  You can't lie your way out of this."  The Maker must have been watching out for him, thought the elf, as a templar interrupted at just that moment.  "There is no sign that magic of any kind was used Knight Commander.  What should we do with the mages now?  They're awfully shook up."  

Meredith shut her eyes, extending her senses.  Orsino carefully kept his expression empty and open as he waited for her response.  She opened her eyes and reluctantly nodded.  "Mandatory lockdown for the next 48 hours.  I want you to confiscate all alchemy equipment and supplies and put them under templar supervision and . . . escort the First Enchanter to my office," she snarled.  The elf allowed himself to be hauled out.  
Once out of her view, the templar let him walk.  "Sorry about that, sirrah," he muttered, letting Orsino go.  The elf tried not to rub his arm, though it ached after the rough treatment.  It was at least better to focus on that discomfort than to allow himself to wonder about Thrask and Corentine.

Meredith showed up after what felt like an endless wait.  Orsino stood with his templar escort.  Both of them turned to her when she entered the room.  She had herself firmly under control now, but her eyes were nearly glowing with pent up fury.  The templar paled under that gaze, but Orsino shrugged it off.  He was used to it by now.  

"You may go," she told the young warrior, tone brittle.  She barely waited for the door to close before laying into the elf.  "What in the Maker's name are you up to, mage?  I don't trust this . . . accident of yours."  "I had an idea, Meredith.  I intended to test it in the alchemy lab, but I stumbled and fell."  The elf spread his hands as if to say, "What can you do?"  "Why would you be studying something explosive?  What purpose could that have?"  

The First Enchanter mimed an expression of regret, "Alchemy is not my area of expertise.  I did not expect that reaction under any circumstances.  It was unfortunate, I admit.  If you wish to bar me from alchemical studies, I will accept your judgment."  Her eyes narrowed, brow creasing with suspicion.  

"You agree to easily, Orsino.  I know there is more to this.  Don't think you can hide it from me!"  He let himself flush a bit with unfeigned anger, "You always suspect the worst, Meredith!  I admit fault in this; is it so strange that I would accept just restrictions?"  They stood there glaring at one another, postures redolent with animosity.  "If I find that you have lied to me, you will hang," she said softly, the words hissing past clenched teeth.  

Orsino gave a nod, knowing it was true.  "Get out of my sight, mage," she told him.  The elf gave a slight bow and walked out, feeling her eyes burn into his back.  He would pay for this, he knew.  Even if Meredith could not link him to Corentine's escape, she would know . . . and knowing, would make his life hell.  Still, he thought, it was worth it.  Besides, what more could she do?

It was nearly dawn when the elf was pulled from his bed by two armored men.  Though terror clutched his heart, he kept his manner calm and indignant.  "What's this about?  Unhand me," he demanded.  The templars said nothing, simply walked him down to the Gallows courtyard in his night robe.  They marched him out into the pouring rain, where several blurry figures stood, hooded against nature's onslaught.  

Piercing blue eyes stared daggers at him from the shadows of one.  "The maleficar escaped, First Enchanter," Meredith spat.  "That is unfortunate," he replied, looking properly displeased.  "You know nothing about it, then?"  "No, Knight Commander.  It has always been my firm belief that mages belong in the Circle.  You must know that by now."  He let his weariness and exasperation bleed into his voice as he answered.  

She grabbed him by the front of his robes, pulling Orsino to her until her face was inches from his rain-drenched one.  "I know you had something to do with this.  You and your expedient accident.  Your lies cannot withstand the Maker's light," she hissed, spittle flying.  

He shied away from her intensity, leaning back.  "My services are at your disposal, as always, Knight Commander.  Is there aught I can do to assist the Order in retrieving this apostate?"  The words were mechanical, issued without feeling no matter how convincing he wanted them to sound.  She threw him back, where he landed with a splash on the paving stones, and then turned to her templars.  

"I want search parties out in the streets.  Check Lowtown, Darktown, and the Docks.  I need two templars at the gate.  Ship searches are authorized.  I will need runners to send notices to the Viscount and the harbor master so that we encounter no problems with the guards.  The mage had no local family, so I will need a force of five templars for a cross country trip.  Maleficarum often try to go to ground with their loved ones.  I think it likely she will caught there or en route.  All mages out of their cells last night will be interrogated and I will need to speak with the templars on duty during the escape.  Punishments will be meted out appropriately."  The Knight Commander gave the orders in a clipped, crisp tone, emotions tightly held.  

"This blighted rain won't make it easy, sirrah," one of the men commented.  "No one said the Maker's work would be easy or comfortable," she snapped.  There were no more complaints.  The templars moved efficiently to carry out the Knight Commander's orders.

In moments, the courtyard was nearly empty but for the unmoving guards at each gatepost.  Orsino sat in the puddle, freezing and wet, heart soaring.  She had made it out.  Corentine was free, at least for now, and Meredith had no leads.  He couldn't help but smile at the gray sky as it lightened with the first tentative rays of dawn.  Icy rain drops pelted him, mocking his joy.  Heaven weeps, the First Enchanter thought, and I am ecstatic with the taste of her tears.