Chapter Text
”Tsukuyomi.”
Solas does not understand the word that Shisui speaks; it feels like an invocation of some sort, though for what purpose he cannot tell. The result is that no sooner are they returned to their proper time then Alexius is rendered fully comatose with only a small noise of pain, his amulet joining the other in Shisui’s hand.
The red fades from the boy’s eyes, and he sighs, rubbing them.
“He won’t be going anywhere under his own power,” Shisui says, sounding even more tired than before.
“For how long?” Solas asks. Shisui drags a hand down his face, visibly considering it before he shrugs.
“At least a week,” he says.
“Andraste’s shiny bountiful tits Fluffy, what did you do? ” Varric asks from his place in the corner. Solas would rather like to know that as well--the specifics, at least. The generalities are clear enough to anyone with a passing familiarity with the magics of the mind, though it seems that whatever powers of that nature Shisui possesses, they are of a far greater order of magnitude than the petty skills of the mages of this age; perhaps even greater than those of the Elvhen, in general, though he doubts they match up to what the Evanuris could do in their prime. Dirthamen in particular comes to mind, and a handful of those now styled 'Forgotten' by the Dalish.
(Best they are left that way; even the worst of the Evanuris' atrocities seem petty when compared to the things that the 'Forgotten' liked to dabble in. He remembers once being proudly shown some piece of the Fade completely denuded of life, the physical portion just as dead; he remembers complimenting someone, a name he will no longer think, on the revolutionary means of gaining more power, quickly.
"How soon can you repeat the process?" he had asked. That person had just laughed, bitten into the ripe and juicy fruit they carried, and suggested choosing a different piece of land to kill.
Modern blood magic, he thinks, is the distant descendant of that horrifying method; a wet, distant shadow. It is for the best, he thinks, that he is the only living thing this side of the Veil, this side of the greatest seals ever made, who knows of it.)
“Um. Genjutsu,” Shisui replies. He sways a little, and Solas and Varric both move to catch him, and together they get him seated in one of the remaining chairs. Wordlessly, Solas places his last lyrium potion into the boy’s hand.
“Drink that. It will help,” he says.
“Oh. That stuff. Sure, thanks.” Shisui pops the cap and downs it like a shot, and abruptly sits up straighter in his chair.
“Indra’s bones that works fast! ” His eyes briefly flash red, the colour looking natural on him, after all the time spent in the warped, heinous future, and he laughs softly. “I need to learn how to make that. Shit.”
“Later, Fluffy," Varric says. He shifts to rest Bianca on his shoulder. "First we should get some guards, and tell the Arl that the Magister tried to...?" He trails off deliberately, looking at Shisui, and Solas for an answer.
"Oh, just kill us," Shisui says. "As a prelude to taking over the, uh, Arldom? And then the rest of the kingdom, maybe." He regards the unconscious Magister impassively. "I don't know if he got that far. Or if he even wanted to," he adds softly, and Solas finds himself recalling what Shisui had said to the Magister, that he understood throwing away everything for a loved one. That understanding does not seem to matter in the face of what else Alexius did, or if it does, Shisui is too well-trained to show it.
"Oh is that all?" Varric's sarcasm is a refreshingly blunt edge. "We should have this dealt with by lunch time then. I'll go have someone get the Arl." He accomplishes this by sticking his head out the door and telling the guards stationed there to get the Arl, before taking a station beside the door himself.
Alexius is unconscious, bleeding slightly from the eyes and nose.
Felix is still unconscious, sickly pale, and dying already; of the Blight, if the bitter, bleak future is to be believed.
Shisui sighs, and presses his fingertips to his forehead, clearly still suffering from using too much mana, too quickly.
"I'm fine," the boy says, as if he can sense Solas' concern. Perhaps he can. "Just thinking about what to say. "I think I've got it," he adds. "Just back me up."
"You got it kid," Varric says. Solas nods his agreement; whatever the case, their stories ought to line up.
"Being human, they will listen to you first over us regardless," Solas points out; he suspects that that will not have occured to Shisui. He is correct.
"What?" the boy asks, looking up and blinking in confusion. "But you're both definitely adults by local standards, and nobody here knows my clan, so why would that matter?"
"You're close enough to adulthood that your word will matter over ours, simply because you are human," Solas replies.
"That's stupid," Shisui counters. Solas can see the calculations in his dark eyes, briefly, before he hides them again. "But I guess I can take advantage of idiots."
Varric laughs at that, and says, "Atta boy. Now, why would your clan matter?"
"That was really unsubtle, Varric," Shisui mock-chides, before shrugging a little. "Uchiha is a noble clan. It's not that big a deal though, unless we're dealing with the daimyou or other nobility though. A ninja village is largely a meritocracy."
Solas feels Varric's blink as his own; that's as much about his home and society as Shisui has ever said before, and more importantly--
"The Arl's another noble, kid," Varric points out. "And that gives you pull that just being affiliated with the Inquisition doesn't."
"Nobody here knows my clan from dirt, Varric," Shisui points out bluntly. "I don't see the point in bringing it up."
"Foreign nobility is still nobility," Varric sums up. "You should talk to Ruffles about it, and maybe the Seeker and Nightingale too. I'm sure they can use it somehow."
Shisui wrinkles his nose at the notion, and then drags a hand down his face, and nods.
"All right, fine , I'll tell Josephine," he grumbles. "And Leliana."
There's a perfunctory knock at the door, and Shisui is on his feet, posture straight and proud, clothes as neat as they can be, having spent the last several hours crawling through a castle of horrors. His speed is breathtaking; the knock is followed immediately by the door opening, and nobody would ever know he had been slumped over the table mere moments before.
Two guards come in, and one takes up the space opposite Varric, flanking the door. The other moves further in, and seeing the two Tevinters unconscious (still unconscious in Felix's case) and (apparently) under guard by Solas and Shisui, nods. Arl Teagan follows her in.
"I would like to know what the hell is going on here," he says, not hiding his irritation.
"Short version," Shisui starts, coming half to attention. "Is that it's a good thing we were supervising Magister Alexius. He attacked Solas and I both--likely judging that we would be in the best position to thwart whatever else he had planned." He flexes his left hand, reflexive, but quickly stopped; he tucks his hands into the small of his back, standing at a military rest. The left hand is glowing faintly green.
Oh, Solas thinks, as the Arl's eye is drawn briefly to that hand--and the Anchor. He is very good.
"I stopped him," Shisui continues. "Rendering him unconscious in the process. His son never stirred," he adds, sending what appears to be a look of poorly concealed pity toward the younger Alexius.
"Master Tethras?" the Arl asks, looking to the dwarf where he still has Bianca ready to fire if the Magister so much as moves.
"Yeah," Varric agrees. "That sounds about right. There was magic-- I have no idea what the Magister did. But the young lord did render him unconscious."
Shisui shoots Varric a dirty look; Varric just smirks. As an improvisation it's well-done. Arl Teagan arches a sardonic eyebrow at Shisui.
"Fine, yes, okay, can we move on?" Shisui says, throwing his hands up briefly, before returning them to something like rest. "I'm more concerned with the guy who tried to kill us."
Teagan frowns again.
"Yes. I am too. Did he say anything before you rendered him unconscious?"
"Nope," Shisui replies. "It all happened pretty fast--I have good reflexes, and react poorly to people attacking me with unknown magic."
"Apostate?" the Arl asks, finally looking at Solas. It's possibly the most polite he's ever heard the word.
"It is as--"
"OUT OF MY WAY!" The familiar clear shout--almost a roar--and the sharp clang of metal ring at almost the same time, as Cassandra all but charges down the hall and into the room. The guards practically leap out of her way--and so does Varric, cursing under his breath. There is a faint nimbus of blue-white about the Seeker, giving her an air of the spirit-touched; it suits her, Solas thinks.
"It's all right, I'm okay!" Shisui calls, leaping between her and the rest of the room. She looks at the boy, and then to Solas, who nods to the unconscious Magister laid out on the ground.
"You vanished," she says. "Leaving nothing but smoke. "
"That was Alexius," Shisui says grimly. "But I'm fine. I promise. I'd appreciate it if you keep a Smite or a Purge ready if he wakes up though," he adds. "I don't expect him to for, uh, for a while? But it'd make me feel a lot better."
To Cassandra's credit, although she is startled for a moment, she barely blinks at the request, falling into a vigilant posture beside the unconscious Magister.
"Good idea," Arl Teagan says. "She should probably never have left to begin with."
"No, sending her to oversee the rest of Alexius' retinue was the right decision," Shisui says. "There are other mages among them, and the rest of us were more than able to handle a single man, no matter what kind of power or skill he had hiding."
What Shisui does not say, what Solas cannot help but think, is how the boy alone had more than enough power to utterly overwhelm the Magister. It was not even a contest; one look, a single second, and perhaps a little more mana than is advisable, and the man is. Gone. Completely unconscious, comatose even, for, if Shisui is correct, at least a week. Meaning he has done this thing often enough to have some estimate of how long the effect lasts on average.
Part of Solas longs for sleep, to be able to seek out the Magister's dreams, and see what he dreams of. If he dreams, or if he is too far gone to even reach the Fade.
He wants to seek out Shisui and have their talk , somewhere outside the reach of any others who might eavesdrop or take offense.
(He must, can, will be patient; he is no child, he is an ancient being who learned patience in a time when centuries had as much meaning as minutes.
The thought does not help, as much as he wants it to.)
The Arl looks around at all of them, almost as if he--no, that's not right; he trusts Shisui's words. Believes him, even. But there is something he doesn't trust here.
"I will send for chains," he says.
"Rope is fine," Shisui interjects. "No point wasting manacles; he's not strong enough to break them."
"Rope then," the Arl agrees. "And an experienced guard to aid you, Seeker; I apologise that you will have to keep watch over these two all night, but we have no other Seekers or Templars on hand."
"No apologies needed; I am glad to be able to assist," Cassandra replies.
"Once we have him secured, Solas, Varric, and I will go and follow up on the matter of Magister Alexius' retinue,'' Shisui declares. Hesitates a tiny moment. "If that's all right with you, Arl Teagan."
The Arl smiles a tiny bit, for a split second.
"It is," he says. "We won't forget the Inquisition's help in this matter. Nor that of the... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your family?"
"Uchiha," Shisui replies. "I'm... very foreign." Arl Teagan raises an eyebrow again, and Shisui responds with a rapid string of something in his own language, carrying on until the Arl stops him, clearly suppressing a laugh.
"Then in that case, your education is a credit to your family, and I hope you appreciate it," Teagan says.
"I appreciate everything they've taught me," Shisui says with utmost sincerity. Arl Teagan looks to be on the verge of ruffling his hair.
Before long, the Arl is leaving them with four extra guards, veterans of the Siege of Redcliffe during the last Blight. They fall in easily under Cassandra's direction, and after giving them a once-over, Shisui nods to himself, and gestures for Solas and Varric to fall in.
He gets as far as the door before abruptly turning on his heel, snatching the rope from the guard, and binding Alexius in an elaborate harness that specifically immobilises his hands and arms, away from each other. The man doesn’t show so much as a twitch of consciousness while Shisui manhandles him.
“There,” he says, clearly satisfied. “Feel free to shake him if he does somehow regain consciousness before I get back.”
He waits for acknowledgement, and then leads the way out.
There are two more guards waiting outside the door; Shisui gets a nod, and Solas and Varric are both largely ignored.
"I will handle the rain," Solas says, as they head for the courtyard.
"Thanks," Shisui replies. "Taking care of Alexius was a bit, uh, draining. After everything else."
"Yeah, about that," Varric cuts in. Shisui holds up a hand to forestall his questions.
"I'm not possessed, it's not blood magic, and please hold further questions until we're not dealing with a hostile incursion," he says, a hing of exasperation in his voice. Solas feels his lips twitch; he feels for the boy, and the constant suspicion, but now that they are no longer in immediate danger, he can find some humour in it. Especially since he had felt the same, when he had first seen those eyes.
No, worse than possession, there was something just unfathomably, deeply unsettling about those eyes, even though they are, for the moment, nominally on his side. He cannot put his finger on it, why they bother him so much, so he will do his best not to allow Shisui to know just how unsettled he was. Is.
(Something about the dots in the red, like little tadpoles, swimming in his eyes... It gets his hackles up. He sets it aside for later . )
"Okay kid, I'll keep my curiosity contained for now," Varric replies, grinning wryly. Shisui mutters something to himself in his own tongue, shaking his head. The moment they step out into the courtyard, Solas casts a barrier to keep them dry, and Shisui sheds his annoyance and the hint of adolescent petulance for focus and competence once again, his eyes sharp, but still dark.
"Are they still sitting outside the gates?" Shisui asks the guard on the castle.
"The 'Vints? Yes, ser," the man replies. "You going to take care of them? Only, we thought the Seeker was going to do that, then she comes tearing back here like an archdemon's chasing her..."
"The Magister tried to pull a fast one, but we shut it down. She's keeping him under guard, and we're going to investigate the status of his remaining retinue," Shisui replies. "Unless your Arl tells you otherwise, don't let anyone in or out until we get back; just because the ringleader's handled, that doesn't mean the infiltration is off, got it?"
"Yes ser!" the man exclaims, coming to attention. His fellow does as well, and Shisui nods--and stops.
"Belay that; I might send a mage or two to help. They'll have a passcode.... Konoha , can you remember that?"
Konoha , Solas recalls, is the name of his home. An easy enough passcode, and one that will be hard to guess, unless you know him. The soldiers both nod.
"Konoha," the one repeats. "We won't admit anyone without the passcode unless the Arl tells us to."
"Good." Shisui claps the man on the shoulder, and heads off into the rain, Solas and Varric close on his heels.
The boy is very charismatic, Solas has noticed; people like him quickly, and cooperate even more quickly. The latter would be more mysterious, save that he suspects there is some subtle, well-controlled magic behind it. He has known others--Mythal, for one--to do the same.
The fact that someone as young as Shisui might not only possess some power in common with Mythal, but be skilled enough in its use to evade Solas' senses...
He sets the thought away, for later.
A half-dozen mages have joined the fortified guard contingent at the gates, and they are the first people their party encounters between the castle and the gate; the rest of the town is in hiding, from the rain, or the hour, or the knowledge that there are interlopers of dubious quantity on their doorstep.
Without more than a second of consideration, Shisui determines who is in charge of the mages, and he jogs over to the short, straight-backed woman.
"Hey. We're going to take care of the mess outside. The Magister tried to pull a fast one, and we smacked him down; he's unconscious, and Seeker Cassandra is ready to Smite him if he so much as twitches, but he's very dangerous, and I'd feel better if there were a couple of mages to back her up."
The woman gives Shisui a nonplussed once-over, and then looks to Solas, and Varric, and back to Solas again. Soals inclines his head toward Shisui, ceding authority. The woman's eyebrow twitches up, but she nods.
"I have a pair who'll work with a Seeker," she says. "Tom! Lewis!" she barks in a drill sergeant's voice. There is a story there, Solas thinks, and wonders if he will find it when he dreams. If he ever gets to sleep again.
Two of the mages come to them, one average height, the other a little tall, both hooded against the rain.
"Yes First Enchanter?" one asks in a rather melodious tenor.
"Tom, this is the one the Grand Enchanter told us about," she says. "The Herald of Andraste." Solas suspects he is the only one who notices the way Shisui's nose wrinkles briefly at the title.
"Shisui Uchiha," Shisui offers, with no hesitation on the order; Solas wonders how long he practiced that, to be so easy with it. It is no easy thing to change your name, even in so minor a way as that.
"If you are willing, I would like the two of you to go assissist Seeker Cassandra in containing Magister Alexius. Not that she isn't a badass, but I'd prefer it if there were mages there as well."
"Of course you would," Tom says approvingly. "Well, you're lucky I was here though; I have less objection to Templars and Seekers than most of us. And Lewis here-" Lewis grunts in reply "-was actually supposed to be one until his magic came in, so he knows how they work."
"The passcode is 'Konoha'," Shisui says. "Give it to the guards at the castle, and tell them you're to report to Cassandra."
They both repeat the unfamiliar word, and head off into the night.
"Now," Shisui continues. "The three of us are going to head out and confront the Magister's retinue. Close the gate behind us, and be prepared to defend."
"Focus on barriers," Solas advises. "If this becomes a fight--"
"I understand," the First Enchanter says, nodding firmly.
And then Shisui is leading them out the gate, and down the road a short way, to where the Tevinters have set up their camp. Their numbers are not the same as they were before; there are two obvious mages fewer. Solas does not think that Shisui misses it.
"So," Shisui calls, well inside fireball range. He has one fist resting on his hip, a knife concealed there from the sight of the Tevinters. If he had wanted it hidden from Solas and Varric as well, Solas has no doubts that he could, would have done just that.
"Who's in charge here with Magister Alexius in there?" Shisui tips his head back toward Redcliffe. One of the obvious mages steps away from camp, barriers keeping the rain back, staff in hand, and held ready to cast; since Solas is holding his own the same way, he can't blame the man.
"That would be me," he says, with almost no accent in his voice. "Silus Novus, of Minrathous." He sketches a bow, of a calculated depth; shallow enough to be insolent, deep enough that most people wouldn't think to take offense. Shisui's posture shifts minutely and for a deeply unsettling moment, Solas is reminded of himself in his much, much younger days: a powerful, vibrant young man, aware that he is being insulted, and about to tear out all of their throats for it.
The aura of his power extends beyond his skin, once he stops holding it in, and Solas is reminded by its pressure how he had briefly mistaken Shisui for a powerful spirit of Fear. Silus Novus manages to stand his ground, but his fellows do not, shifting back and away, even as they had tried to array themselves behind their commander.
“In that case, Silus Novus, in the name of the Inquisition and the Arling of Redcliffe, I, Shisui Uchiha of the Uchiha Clan hereby request the immediate and unconditional surrender of you and all other Venatori agents.”
Silus Novus flinches, and so does everyone with him.
“The Magister is already in custody,” Shisui adds. “Seeker Cassandra is supervising, but he is unconscious.” The pressure of his aura, the weight of it, increases, and Solas is very, very certain that everyone facing them is about to die. It is a remarkable effect from one so young.
Solas can see the very moment that Silus Novus makes his decision—makes the wrong decision. He’s casting a new barrier even as the man shouts:
“Venatori attack! ”
There’s a flash of glowing red in Shisui’s face as he vanishes from sight, reappearing with his blade through Silus Novus’ very surprised throat.
“Wanna rethink following that order?” Varric asks casually, as if there is nothing out of the ordinary about what just happened. Shisui lets Silus Novus’ body fall. Two of the mages drop their staves and raise their hands, stepping back as they do. All of the men-at-arms do the same, warriors and rogues alike.
The remaining mages either think highly of themselves, or are true fanatics; the answer doesn’t matter, because they are shortly just as dead as their commander—one on Shisui’s knife, the other on a combination of Solas’ ice, and Bianca’s razor-edged quarrels.
“You, hiding in the carriage,” Shisui says. He is idly tossing the blade he used to kill two of the three mages present into the air. Catching it. Tossing it again. The blade catches the light of the Veilfire lamps the Tevinter retinue is using, flashing silver and bloody red. There is a thump and a scrambling sound, and an elven head pops out of the carriage, eyes wide and fearful.
“I-we—we’re just slaves, Master,” the man says, and Solas’ blood burns .
For a second, the sense of imminent death from Shisui is literally staggering.
“Not anymore,” Shisui says. “You’re free. All of you. Seriously, slaves? That’s barbaric.” The look he gives to the surrendered Tevinters is one of the most exquisitely disdainful that Solas has ever seen, and that includes Dirthamen at his condescending best; any doubt he might have had about Shisui’s station in his home is washed away by the incontrovertible look of arrogant superiority written on his face.
Solas feels his eyebrows want to rise; it takes effort to keep his face controlled. What kind of society raises child soldiers like Shisui, but disapproves of slavery? Or, perhaps it is not his society as a whole; perhaps it is his clan that disapproves, or even just Shisui himself. It is, he thinks, a sign of the boy’s good character regardless.
“Varric, would you go fetch our prisoners an escort?” Shisui asks.
“I’m on it,” Varric replies. He doesn’t put Bianca up, but he does head back for the gate, waving to catch their attention. Before he’s out of range, Solas casts a fresh barrier on him--just in time to catch a bolt of chain lightning. Varric curses and rolls, vanishing into the dark of the night, but Solas takes the bolt, cursing, and Shisui--
Shisui is gone before it hits, fast as thought, and there's a strangled cry, another burst of lightning, and then silence, as a head comes flying, blood arcing behind it. The head lands on the road beside Solas' foot, and begins to roll. He puts a stop to that with his foot, reflexively.
"New plan," Shisui says. Solas can see the tadpoles swimming in the red pools of his eyes. They're moving rapidly, scanning for something Solas cannot see, and then he vanishes again. There's another cry in the dark, and another and then:
"I surrender! Please--"
When Shisui reappears, he's frogmarching a young mage with one hand, and holding the woman's staff--an elegant piece, with a sunburst at the end, and gleaming wetly in the rain. He gives her a shove toward the other prisoners, and tosses the staff to Solas.
Solas catches the staff, and gives it a spin, letting his own hover beside him in a rare display of power.
"A mid-grade fire staff. A decent weapon, if you would like to begin learning to use one." He tosses it back to Shisui who gives it a spin identical to the one Solas just did—and then another with considerably more unnecessary flourish, before resting the end on the ground and leaning on it like a walking stick. The staff’s former owner winces. Shisui merely grins cheerfully at her.
“If you like any of the others, help yourself,” he says to Solas. “Spoils of war. Hey! Free people!” he shouts in the next breath. “Do you have any rope?”
“Yes!” the spokeself from before calls back. “We do. Do you—do you want to bind them?” he asks.
“Yeah. It seems like a good idea.”
The spokeself’s head vanishes, and a couple of minutes—and some audible rummaging—later, he and three others come out of the carriage, coils of rope slung over their shoulders. Three are elves, one is human, and Shisui casts a barrier against the rain over all four of them the second they step out. Solas finds himself smiling faintly.
“Trade you,” Shisui says, offering the staff to the spokeself in exchange for the coil of rope. Startled, but too accustomed to obedience to consider refusing, the man gives Shisui the rope, and takes the staff. “All right—I’m going to demonstrate proper restraint procedure.” As he speaks, he measures off the rope, preparing it just so ; much more slowly than he had with Alexius. “Anyone who can use magic, if you want to keep them restrained, you have to be more careful; that goes for assholes like this, dumb kids doing dumb kid stuff, and drunks who think it’s funny to use their powers to flip ladies’ skirts alike. Now—“
Solas keeps watch while Shisui teaches the newly freed people how to bind prisoners in his manner—arms and hands immobilised, with no leverage to speak of. He wonders how often the boy has had to do this, to do it so skillfully, so quickly and easily.
The free people (as Shisui rightly called them) take to the lesson like ducks to water, binding the rest of the prisoners under Shisui’s supervision. If they are perhaps harsh and uncareful about it, Shisui says nothing, and neither does Solas. (He finds he rather enjoys the sight of slavers getting their comeuppance, even after all these years.)
Shisui is demonstrating how to control prisoners with a one-handed grip on the ropes, when Varric returns, two mages (one elf, one human) and four men-at-arms (three warriors, one obvious rogue; all human) in tow.
All six of them stop short, and Solas can hear the mages hissing in air through their teeth. ...Ah yes. Shisui’s eyes.
“Shit Fluffy, is that all of the—uh. Your eyes?” Varric says, glancing pointedly toward the mages and men-at-arms.
“Oh for—“ Shisui drags a hand down his face. “It’s magic that lets me see in the dark,” he says. “I’m not possessed.”
With his words, Solas feels a brush of his magic, faint and subtle: Believe me. This is the whole truth, the magic says. No need to pry deeper, look further. It is not strong enough to affect him unless he allows it, and he does not; moreover, he already suspects that there is more to those eyes than seeing in the dark, though he has no doubt that they do help with that.
It is strong enough to work on the mages, on the men-at-arms; the free people. Varric seems to accept his words, though Solas has his doubts of the efficacy of Shisui’s spell on such a strong-willed soul. The prisoners, on the other hand, are divided: the non-mages are as affected as the men-at-arms. The Venatori mages on the other hand, are not affected, even a little so far as Solas can see. Given the prevalence of blood magic in Tevinter, he is not entirely surprised; despite the fact that Shisui does not appear to be using blood magic, whatever it is he is doing—his genjutsu —is similar enough that the defences they all no doubt have in place against such things are capable of making a difference.
There's some shuffling as the prisoners are rearranged, leaving them in the grips of the men-at-arms, for the most part, with the mages standing guard, and Shisui at the back, his eyes on the prisoners. His eyes are on them, unblinking, and Solas thinks some part of him almost pities them; only almost, and only a very small part, but he knows what it is to be the focus of Shisui's unblinking regard, and it is a very physical feeling that he would not repeat if he can help.
Varric leads the way, and Solas falls in with Shisui, and the free people, speaking softly with them, and helping them, gently nudging them toward independent decisions, if he can. And keeping up the barriers on the entire group, barring the prisoners. It surprises the guards, but they don't react too poorly; they must be accustomed to seeing mages keep themselves dry by now. He wonders if they ever considered that it might be a thing they could experience for themselves.
The boy is flagging though, by the time they reach the castle again. He hides it well, but Solas doesn't miss it. Fortunately, Shisui is content with leaving the prisoners in the hands of the guards and mages--particularly since the Seeker has moved to the dungeons with the Magister--and willing to follow the valet who appeared to lead them, on behalf of the Arl, to a new set of chambers, 'better suited to the young lord's rank and position.' Solas amuses himself for a few minutes imagining just what conclusions the Arl has come to.
Once in their new suite, Shisui directs them all into the same room, for security. He then strips almost automatically, stashing weapons about his bed, washes his face and hands in the provided bowl, and says,
"Solas, get some sleep. Varric, you have the watch. Set whatever seems good, don't do anything I wouldn't do."
And then he collapses into bed, and falls asleep in seconds, the red light in his eyes fading as he does.
"All right Chuckles," Varric says, when the boy's breathing has become deep and even. "What in the Void happened? "
"The Magister's spell sent us through time," Solas admits after a moment of consideration. "And we saw a world on the brink of destruction, brought to ruin by the actions of the Magister and his master." And Solas' own, though he does not mention that part. "We had to fight to return. More than that can wait; Shisui was not wrong to admonish me to sleep. I am almost as worn as he."
It is not even a lie; Solas is down to the very dregs of his mana. He could, he thinks, manage a fade-step, if he had to. He could cast a single offensive or defensive spell. But no more than that.
" Time travel--no, you know what? You're right. This can wait 'til morning. Go to bed Chuckles, I'll set some traps so Fluffy can sleep soundly," Varric says, waving Solas toward one of the other rooms.
He goes, and before long, has fallen into the comfort of the Fade.
Although he desperately wants to, Solas resists the urge to immediately seek out Shisui's dreams; interrupting his sleep right now would be bad for his recovery from magical exhaustion. There are other things he needs to do, while he can; checking in with his agents in the area, for one. Speaking with the local spirits. Resting, himself.
He does not want to rest; a mixture of curiosity and concern has him seeking out Shisui sooner rather than later, coming to that now-familiar 'door', and waiting outside it. The door is shut, and there is no glimmer of light beneath; the boy must be truly very deeply asleep, if his thoughts do not touch the Fade at all. He resists the temptation to knock anyway; he knows it would draw Shisui's attention, and deprive him of much-needed rest.
Instead, he contents himself with exploring the history of Redcliffe in the Fade. There are particularly strong impressions of a very recent time, one that he pins, after one recreated battle, to the time of the last Blight.
Much to his surprise, he gets to watch a younger, more naive Sister Nightingale stalking through the halls of the castle in the wake of an elven mage dressed as a Warden, along with several colourful others.
Fascinating.
He keeps himself at a remove, so that he can watch without interfering, and it does not take him long to learn that the elven mage is indeed a Warden, the one that they often call The Warden, the so-called Hero of Fereldan, credited with ending the Fifth Blight in record time. He had not realised that she was a mage. Or an elf. Or indeed a woman; for someone spoken of with such reverence in Fereldan, the people there are surprisingly vague about the specifics.
There is another Warden with them, a human male, whom Leliana's shade calls 'Alistair'; this, then, is the current King of Fereldan.
Utterly fascinating . Already he has learned so much that he did not already know, and--
" Pride ," a low voice drawls behind him. "Can you move , you're ruining the view ."
Solas turns his head, and is unsurprised to see the Sloth demon slouched and sprawled over a soft, mossy-looking piece of Fade adjacent to this patch of the castle. A surge of annoyance pricks at him, as the scene he had been watching dissolves. The demon heaves a great, heavy sigh, and gives Solas a Look . As if it has the right.
" Now look what you've done," it complains.
"Me? I rather think that you are the one who spoke, and distracted the players," Solas counters, tipping his chin up very slightly. Sloth grumbles, and settles deeper into its slouch.
" I'm the one who lives here," it whines. "This is my show. And now it won't come back for days. "
"I am sure you will have no trouble waiting," Solas replies, before moving away, shaking his head. Sloth is largely harmless, especially like this, settled firmly in one place, watching the same 'show' over and over again. He wonders a bit what fascinates it so about this particular piece of history. He will have to return some time to view it in whole, he thinks, instead of coming in part of the way through, and having it interrupted before the end.
"Always the same, Pride," Sloth is grumbling to itself as he leaves. "Think they're better than the rest of us..."
Largely harmless, and none too bright, either, if it cannot sense the difference between himself and an ordinary Pride demon.
He spends the rest of the night exploring the Fade in and around Redcliffe. Perhaps responding to his own thoughts, most of what he sees is from the brief period of time around the Fifth Blight, though he does not see the shade of the Nightingale again. Nor does he see the Warden, or any other of her companions. He is fine with that. There is still plenty to occupy his thoughts until waking.
Which is natural, and later than he had anticipated. When he leaves his room for the sitting room that their suite centers on, he finds Varric there, drinking tea and writing in rapid longhand.
"Morning Chuckles," he says without looking up. "The kid's still out; I've been checking on him every hour. It's not my first experience with magic exhaustion," the dwarf adds. "I think he's doing all right, but I'm not an expert."
"I will check on him," Solas says, already heading that way.
"Mind the traps," Varric adds.
As they are much the same as those that Varric set at the inn the other day, he has no trouble doing so.
True to Varric's word, Shisui is still in exactly the same position he had been in when Solas last saw him, the blankets covering him rising and falling slowly with his breath. He checks the boy's aura, but is cautious about probing deeper, however he might like to, and instead directs his attention to the Anchor in his hand. It is, thankfully, as it should be, suppressed and contained by his own efforts and Shisui's alike. (It is curious, he thinks, that the boy should have any notion at all of how to contain a possibly-hostile, definitely-foreign magic that has attached itself to him.)
Once certain of Shisui's continued health and relative well-being, Solas slips from the room as quietly as he entered, and helps himself to one of the sausage-and-cheese rolls remaining on the tray near Varric.
"He is well," he says. "I would estimate that he should wake again in perhaps another hour or two, though it may take him longer to recover fully."
Varric hums thoughtfully, and finishes writing his paragraph, before setting his quill and notebook down. He pours himself another cup of tea.
"How long will that take?" he asks.
"That depends on whether or not we can acquire some mana potions," Solas admits. "Perhaps some of the mages here have some, or perhaps some might be found in the Magister's effects..."
"I'd bet on the latter myself," Varric says. "The Magisterium has good relations and open trade still with Orzammar, that isn't impeded by all the nastiness going on around here."
"A good point," Solas agrees. "I will see what I can find, then."
"I'm going to take a short nap, and then I'm going to do some asking around myself," Varric says. "We also have an invitation to dinner with the Arl," he adds. "I'm pretty sure Fluffy has a change of clothes in that scroll of his, but I doubt the two of us would pass muster."
Solas cannot help the face he makes.
"I will see what I can find."
Perhaps he can contrive some way to avoid this dinner, he thinks, as he leaves their suite to find the Magister's things. Fortunately, it is only a matter of asking, and one of the passing servants (human, male) is happy to direct him to where the carriage, its contents, and the contents of the saddlebags are being kept under guard.
"The Arl said nobody was to go diggin' without a mage or the Seeker,'' one of the guards explains. "Since it's 'Vint stuff, it's probably full of blood magic an' shit. Figure you lot can poke at it first, and if anything's left after, maybe the rest of us get a shot, yeah? I mean, 's what I heard; the Herald said it's spoils, right?"
"He did indeed say that," Solas agrees. He paces a circle around the 'spoils', setting the mental space of a barrier to, indeed, contain any malign magics that might escape from the contents. The guards take a step back, and do not hesitate to go further when Solas gestures for them to do so. For once, the general fear and distrust of magic is working in his favour.
He erects the barrier, and allows himself to smile faintly at the gasps and cursing.
"You needn't worry," he calls back to the guards. "The barrier itself is perfectly safe to touch; you could even pass through it with some effort. It will merely contain any unpleasant magics that might be hiding in the Magister's former belongings."
"Right, well. We'll just stay back here, and keep anyone from, er, disturbing you," one of the guards says. Solas smiles to himself, and starts methodically going through things.
The Magister's supply of potions is easily tracked down, and Solas shamelessly appropriates the entire lot, not just the lyrium. The nice thing about being part of the Inquisition is that he knows that few will question him on the matter. Clothes, he leaves alone; he doubts anybody here has any more interest in Tevinter garb than he, and others will know better what they may be repurposed for. Perhaps teething toys for mabari puppies.
Coin and jewellery he divides in three: some (most, admittedly) for the freed slaves, some for the Inquisition, and some to distract the guards and the rest of those involved. Books and papers he takes for himself and likely Sister Nightingale at a later date. He wants to compare them with what Shisui gathered up in that bleak future, and he suspects that she will as well.
(He hopes there is nothing in that future material that might reveal him, in some way. It is not time.)
There are a handful of runes, and he takes all of those.
"Have the staves been taken to the armoury?" he asks, when he finishes finally with his self-assigned task.
"Aye," a guard, different than the one before, replies.
"May I trouble one of you for an escort?" Solas asks, dismissing the barrier with a wave.
"Aye," the same guard replies, and gestures for Solas to follow. He does.
The man is not one for small talk, and Solas does not engage him, except for the occasional nod, or word of thanks when he is directed to avoid a tricky step, or a damaged flagstone. When they arrive, Solas is mildly surprised to find that in addition to the mundane human guards, a pair of mages have been detailed to help keep watch over the staves.
Why those, and not the collection of the Tevinters' belongings? It is baffling, but it is, he supposes, better than leaving everything unguarded.
(He does not consider the men-at-arms to be proper guards for such things, and would not have even in the distant past; a mage is needed to put a stop to runaway magic. Although he supposes in these times, a Templar might do.)
"Master Solas, right?" asks one of the mages, a young man that Solas recognises from the night before, Leo, if he recalls. He does not look much like a lion, but he wouldn't be the first person incongruously named.
"Hello, Leo," Solas replies, inclining his head slightly. "It is good to see you again."
"How is the Herald?" Leo asks. His worry is evident on his face, in his voice, in the way he doesn't quite wring his hands.
"Recovering," Solas replies. "He should be awake by the time I return to our chambers, or shortly afterwards."
"Oh, good. That's a relief. Here, this is Valerie Martinique-" Leo gestures to the other mage with him, a woman maybe ten years his senior, if Solas' judgement of human age is accurate "-Valerie, this is Master Solas, one of the Herald's companions."
"You helped with that mess last night," the woman says. "More than a lot of apostates would--of course, we're all apostates now," she adds with a grimly satisfied smile. Curious. Solas resists the urge to inquire further, and simply inclines his head.
"I have come to inspect the staves on behalf of the Herald," Solas says. The title sits oddly on his tongue, and oddly on Shisui's shoulders; it does not, he thinks, fit. But it is what all of these people have taken to calling him, and the title garners respect and awe, where the boy on his own likely would not. Too young, too foreign, too powerful; the title will protect him--and the anchor--until it is no longer needed.
"I figured," Leo replies. "There's nothing really special about most of them, but the Magister's is a doozy. " He grins, and gestures Solas to follow.
The staves are sorted by grade and type, with two kept to the side: the Magister's, and his son's. The son's is a quality piece, suitable for most work; spirit type, with a master demon-slaying rune, if he is not mistaken. It gleams with silverite, and what looks like a direct infusion of lyrium into the metal; excellent for combating a number of foes indeed. A substantial enchantment for reducing the drain on the caster's mana, and a boost to the same, along with those to enhance the will, and endurance of the wielder.
He gestures for Leo to step back, so that he can give it a swing, and it moves light, and easily in his hand, as if it has been deliberately crafted for ease-of-use. The sort of thing a Magister might commission for a son weakened by illness, wanting to keep the jackals at bay. A fine piece, and one he would not himself scorn. He sets it down, takes up the Magister's staff. There is a glint of mischief in Leo's eye as he does.
With good reason, as it turns out; Alexius' staff is indeed a 'doozy'. Enhancements to magical aptitude, willpower, raw spellpower, the very Fade; a mana shunt like his son's, to reduce the draw on the mage's own mana when casting. An enhancement to magical resistance--a substantial one--the list goes on. It is as if some wit decided to cram every enchantment they could think of onto one poor stick, although the 'stick' itself is hardly 'poor', being an elegant graft of ironwood and silverite that. Well. Would not have been out of place in Arlathan.
It would not surprise Solas in the least to find that the core of the staff, with its nature-based power, does indeed date back that far. It would be like a Magister to flaunt such a thing.
He has to suppress the surge of anger such a thought brings him; it is not for now, not for today. Today, the thief has been brought low, his thralls freed and his goods confiscated. All things considered, it is a good day.
He puts the staff down, and arches an eyebrow at Leo's grinning face, at Valerie's quiet amusement.
"A doozy, right?" Leo asks.
"A doozy indeed," Solas finds himself agreeing.
"I admit I'm surprised you could handle it," Valerie says. "Most of us can't. The Grand Enchanter, and one or two of the Firsts, but it's beyond what most mages will ever be able to use effectively."
"It is an ancient Elvhen design, underneath all the frippery," Solas says. "Perhaps it is simply easier for us to use. In any event, I believe that the Herald and I will be taking these two, and perhaps one other of his choice when he wakes."
"And the rest?" Leo asks.
"The Herald referred to them as 'spoils'."
At that, Valerie smiles; there is something hard in her eyes, and there is definitely a story there. Solas wonders if he might find it in the Fade, or if Varric might tease it out of her, or someone else; he much prefers to leave the acquisition of waking world information to others.
"Should we have them delivered, or will you take them now?" Leo asks.
"I will take them from you now," Solas replies. "Is there an inventory?"
"Yes, a moment--HANS!" Valerie calls. "The inventory if you please!"
"Right away, Enchanter Valerie," an inflectionless voice says. Solas tries to hide his instinctive reaction to one of the Tranquil, those poor, pitiful souls, but does not do as good a job as he would wish, because Leo frowns, and elbows him.
"Don't," he says quietly. "Hans didn't choose to be this way. You can't judge him for it."
"I do not," Solas replies quietly. "I judge those who did it to him."
"And that's why we're all here," Valerie says, quiet satisfaction in her voice.
Hans appears from a small office tucked into the side of the armoury, carrying a writing board with the inventory sheet and an inkpot attached to it, the quill in his other hand. He is a man of average height, with fine, straight pale-blonde hair, and dark eyes that were probably once described as 'soulful'. What would once have been a reasonably handsome face is marred by the Tranquil brand on his forehead, and asymmetrical scars on his face, carved there deliberately. The man offers Valerie his writing board and quill, and she takes it.
"Thank you Hans," she says, handing the board and quill to Solas after a moment to make a notation. "Sign where noted. Then I sign, then Hans signs." Solas nods, and does his part, before handing the board and quill back to Valerie, who signs, and then to Hans, who also signs, gives them all a perfunctory nod, and returns to his office.
"He was in Kirkwall," Valerie says quietly. "He's why we all decided to rebel."
"Him and all the others like him," Leo agrees.
"I understand," Solas says, before excusing himself, and heading back for the Inquisition's quarters.
He does understand, better than they can imagine; the state of the People--and all other people--in this age is bad enough, cut off from half the world as they are, but the Tranquil are a true abomination. He pities them. He despises what has been done to them, and more that it cannot be un done, that he has heard.
Once the Veil is gone, he reminds himself. Once his mistake is corrected, nothing like that will happen again. It will not be possible. (It will kill them all, he thinks, them and many more, but how can he leave the world like this? Half alive, half asleep, limping along as a shadow of itself?)
(For a moment in his sight, the walls are cracked and mazed with red lyrium, the air is dark and heavy, and bodies lie about. Is it a mistake? Is it all a mistake?
He cannot afford these thoughts, but after experiencing the future, they haunt him regardless.)
He knows his way now well enough to find the route back to the rooms on his own, with no guide to help him. He finds he prefers it this way; his thoughts are dark, and he needs the chance to let them pass, to put them aside, so that Shisui's oh-so-sharp gaze does not pick them from his face. It has been a very long time since he has had to be so careful with his thoughts and emotions; his usual masks are more than enough for everyone else.
They are not enough for Shisui. They should be, for anyone that young; he cannot recall ever meeting anyone so simply perceptive , even back in the days of Arlathan. Not even Dirthamen or Falon'Din had seen through him, and yet it took Shisui all of moments. He must be careful, very careful, to never let a hint of his identity and goals slip into his thoughts when he is around the boy.
In the name of maintaining that self-control, Solas takes the long way around, though he takes it at a good clip, back straight, head high, gaze distant and purposeful; those few who consider stopping him think twice, and allow him to pass unaccosted.
Varric is writing still when he returns, letters now rather than in his notebook, and Shisui is curled up in one corner of the couch, wrapped around an entire pot of tea. He looks up, blinking blearily at Solas, dark circles still evident under his eyes.
"Chakra exhaustion bites ," he says by way of greeting.
"Assuming that is the same as mana exhaustion, I have something that may help," Solas says, and offers the boy the strongest lyrium potion he has retrieved.
"You're my favourite now," Shisui declares, taking the vial, examining it, and then downing the contents. He shivers, and abruptly sits up, eyes wide. " Wow. That is super effective. "
"It will help you get through the day, but only sleep can cure the damage done in the long term," Solas warns.
"Yeah, I know, this isn't my first time," Shisui says, waving a hand dismissively. "It should cut recovery time down, though."
Solas finds himself exchanging a long look with Varric.
"It should," Solas confirms cautiously. "But I suspect that Master Tethras and I would both like to know how it is that you are familiar enough with the effects of mana exhaustion to be able to determine that."
"This is my fourth time," Shisui replies, raising a hand with four fingers extended, the thumb folded into his palm. "I was six the first time," he continues, to Solas' growing horror. "But that's pretty normal." Yes, he finds himself still rather horrified. "The next time I was ten, and then when I was eleven. This is the first time since then, though. I've been careful."
"Fluffy," Varric starts. " Kid. " The author with his witty turns of phrase is at a loss for words, and so is Solas. Shisui, unperturbed, pours himself another cup of tea. He sips it, and looks at them both, his dark eyes difficult to read; he is thinking, Solas can tell that much. Considering his words, perhaps. He looks older, in those moments, especially his eyes, with their dark circles, and the deep lines descending from the inner corners.
"Okay, fine, six is a bit young," Shisui finally allows. "Eight-to-ten is a bit more normal. But that's just my clan. We're built differently."
“I don’t care if you were each personally constructed by the Maker from stardust and dragon farts, any of that is too damned young,” Varric says.
“I would not have put it that way, but...” Solas trails off as there is a knock at the door. A moment later, two of the freed people from the night before come in, one carrying a tray of food, the other a large tub.
“Guys, I already told you, you don’t have to,” Shisui says, rising from the couch. The man with the tray clicks his tongue dismissively.
“This is what we know how to do,” he says, his Tevene accent thick in his voice. “We do not mind doing it for you, who freed us, and will pay us, and treat us like people.” And then he goes with his companion to set the tub up in the bedroom. There is a lightness in his step that Solas recognises, that he remembers.
Ar lasa mala revas.
“Looks like you have the start of a fanclub, Fluffy,” Varric teases.
“I just did what any decent person would do,” Shisui protests, flushing a little. "Slavery is wrong ." He says it with such conviction that Solas is positive that he has seen it before.
"Yeah kid, it is," Varric agrees. "I don't think you'll find many people in Fereldan who disagree with you."
"But there are some ," Shisui guesses, voice going briefly dark.
"There are always some," the free man says, as he comes back into the room. "It is our great fortune that you are the other kind of lord."
Shisui opens his mouth, some refutation on the tip of his tongue, but Varric interjects:
"Yeah, yeah, you're not the lord--that's your dad, or your uncle or something, right?"
"Cousin. Figuring out the exact degree is a matter for professionals," Shisui says, shrugging. "But on Ma's side, my grandpa was his dad's first cousin, and we share a few more greats- and great-greats. That's why we have professionals," he adds.
"I wasn't going to say anything," Varric replies.
"Nor was I; as I understand it, such situations are not at all uncommon among the nobility," Solas adds.
"Marriages are almost always arranged among the Masters in Tevinter," the man, whose name Solas still has not been told, says.
"It shows," Shisui replies. And then he sees something in Solas' face, perhaps, or his own typical thoughtfulness catches up with him, and he adds, "Ah, right, Solas, this is Marius. Marius, this is Solas. He's pretty okay."
...at least it is a compliment. And an introduction.
"An honour to meet you Master Solas," Marius says, inclining his head.
"Just Solas," Solas replies. "No titles needed, here."
"See, that's what I said," Shisui puts in. And then the door opens, admitting a tired-looking Seeker Cassandra, with a pair of guards, and a single mage trailing her like ducklings. Or perhaps in the case of the mage, a mother hen; her face is lined, and her hair a solid iron grey, and there is worry in her eyes.
"He has not stirred," she reports. "And we are agreed that he will not."
"Adrien is skilled in Entropy magic," the mage speaks up. "Though not as skilled, it would seem, as the Herald." She looks at Shisui then, blatantly curious. "I am Suana, formerly of the Ostwick Circle. I held the rank of Enchanter."
"Shisui Uchiha," Shisui replies. His delivery is getting smoother. "One of these days, someone needs to explain what these ranks mean," he adds in an undertone.
"I am certain one of us would be glad to take the time to go over relevant ranks with you, Lord Uchiha," Suana replies. Shisui's face scrunches up, wrinkling his nose at the title.
"'Lord Uchiha' is my uncle," he replies. "I'm just Shisui." He hesitates, rolls his eyes a little, and adds, "If you have to 'Lord Shisui' is fine, I guess. 'Lord Uchiha' sounds way too obsequious."
"So you aren't barred from succession for being a mage?" Suana asks, something sharp in her eyes.
"Of course not," Shisui replies. "Since my entire clan are what you call 'mages' it'd be pretty stupid."
"Are you--no, you are clearly not Tevinter," Suana says, frowning slightly.
"Like I told Arl Teagan, I'm very foreign," Shisui replies with a cheeky grin. "And now, I'm going to have to ask you to step outside, along with everyone else who isn't Inquisition, so we can take our baths." He rises smoothly to his feet, and makes a little shooing motion. "Go check in with Fiona, I know she'll be glad to hear that the Magister is definitely down and out."
"I... yes," Suana agrees easily. "You are correct. I would like to continue speaking later, if you do not mind, Lord Shisui."
"Sure," the boy replies cheerfully. "Bring that briefing on ranks inside the Circle, would you?"
"Certainly," she says, and departs, taking the men-at-arms with her.
The door shuts, and Shisui drops himself back onto the couch.
"Didn't I say everyone not Inquisition has to leave?" he asks, raising a hand and pointing toward Marius without looking.
"We're joining," he says. His companion nods wordlessly as he emerges from the bedroom. "We all talked about it, and we decided to join."
"In that case, pull up a chair or something, and grab a snack," Shisui says. "I'll go fill the tub. Cassandra, you can have the first bath; you've been babysitting that ox's ass Alexius all night, you deserve it."
"Oh," she says, clearly surprised. "That is not necessary, but... thank you."
Shisui rises again by virtue of half-vaulting over the back of the couch, and gestures for Cassandra to follow. No doubt, he intends to use magic to fill the tub; he does for so much else, so casually.
"Fluffy's serious," Varric says to Marius and his companion. "Come grab something to eat. He'll probably be sad if you don't."
Solas himself lays the staves he has been carrying down on the long sideboard, and takes up a sausage roll, snacking idly as he prepares for a more thorough investigation of the capabilities of the staves. Marius introduces his companion to Varric as Galen, who does not speak. (Solas wonders if it is 'does not' or 'cannot', but he does not ask.)
Varric engages them in light chit-chat that will, before long, drag out their entire life story, if given the chance. Galen, as promised, does not speak, and Marius speaks all too much, when given permission, bluntly laying out every horror that Varric asks him about. It is enraging , and Solas can do nothing but push it down, block it off, and save it for another day.
This man is free. This man is free , he reminds himself, as surely as if Solas had peeled vallaslin from his face. Free, and hovering protectively about his liberator; Solas has seen it before. Has lost people who had come to be valued friends and companions to it. He sees a flicker of movement, and looks up to meet Shisui's dark eyes. The boy's gaze flicks to where Varric is speaking with Marius and Galen, and then back to Solas, and for a second, he drops his defences enough for Solas to see the anger there. And then it is gone, hidden once more behind Shisui's perpetual cheer.
It is nice to know that he is not the only one outraged.
Solas gestures for Shisui to join him, and the boy does, leaving Varric to coax their new recruits into something like ease.
"Here," Solas says, offering Shisui the lesser of the two staves to begin with. "Hold this, and do nothing more, and tell me what you can discern about it."
What is interesting is that, before taking the staff, Shisui's eyes turn red, and the tadpoles swim... the thought is distracting enough that Shisui notices, and cocks his head like a curious crow--although the gesture seems less threatening than it once did. Perhaps it is the setting.
"What are they called?" Solas asks quietly. "Those marks you have, that spin about your pupils, like tadpoles?"
The boy blinks, and laughs a little, the corners of his eyes crinkling merrily.
"Tadpoles! Ha! They do look like that, don't they? They're called tomoe ," he explains.
" Tomoe ," Solas repeats, curiously, tasting the word. "May I ask what the word means?" Shisui just shrugs.
"It means 'tomoe'? It's the name of the shape," he explains, sketching it out in the air. "Like 'triangle' or 'square' or 'rhombus'. Your language doesn't have a word for it, or you wouldn't have called them tadpoles." He grins again, his red eyes sparkling with his usual bright mischief; it's oddly reassuring. "You can feel free to borrow the word, if you like."
"I may do that," Solas agrees, smiling as well in spite of himself. Shisui's grin invites a return of the same, almost irresistibly; it has nothing to do with his power, and everything to do with his personality. "Now, what can you sense from the staff?"
Shisui straightens his posture, and returns his attention to the smooth metal in his hands.
"It's lighter than it looks," he says, voice gone distant and analytical. "I think it's hollow-" one of his knives is in his hand, and he taps the metal; it does indeed give a hollow ring, with a pleasant sound, like a large chime, slightly muffled "-definitely hollow." The knife vanishes, and Shisui gives the staff an experimental swing, moving easily despite the relatively tight space of the room. If Solas did not know better, he would guess that the boy had been training to use a mage's staff since he was small; it could, perhaps, be a matter of quarterstaff training and a strong kinesthetic intelligence.
"And?" Solas prompts.
"Lyrium," Shisui says confidently. "And a rune. I can see something else... other than that, I don't know enough about the... enchantments?" he asks. Solas nods. "Enchantments, seals, whatever goes into making these. I can tell it's not meant for melee use though," he adds, lips quirking in a sideways grin this time. He offers the staff back, and Solas takes it.
"Before you ask," the boy continues. "I'm not touching the other one until I learn more about these things. I can see from here that it looks like someone set off an entire shop of fancy fireworks and crammed it into something roughly the size and shape of a staff." He tips his head slightly, again like a crow. "Actually it looks like someone grafted two fireworks shops together."
"That is an apt description," Solas agrees. Very apt--and very visual. Something about his strange eyes, no doubt, impacting the way he perceives magic... and likely other things as well. Solas cannot help but wonder just how far, how deeply those strange eyes see.
He is, abruptly, the focus of those eyes again. Shisui says nothing, but Solas feels oddly as if his mind has been scraped , though he does not think that Shisui has done anything. Perhaps it is just memory.
The bedroom door opens, and Cassandra comes out, wearing clean clothes, and no armour, her hair still damp. Shisui's eyes go dark.
"My turn," he says, and bounces off, slipping around the Seeker, and into the bedroom. The door shuts, and a few moments later, steam starts seeping under the door. Solas joins the rest of the party in staring. Abruptly, Varric laughs.
"There was much less steam with mine," the Seeker comments.
"Fluffy must like it hot," Varric says. The Seeker gives him a dirty look, a scoff, and stalks across the room to Solas, giving Marius and Galen a nod along the way.
"I do not think Master Tethras was intending anything salacious," Solas says to her.
"Intended or not, he should have more care with his words. He of all people should be aware of what power they can have," she replies.
"I do not believe there is anyone in this room who wishes that boy ill," Solas says.
"That will not always be the case." She frowns, clearly troubled by the thought. Solas is not surprised; Shisui makes himself easy to worry over. Not that he is reckless, or careless, no; rather that he is a fundamentally joyful child, and whatever his life has been that has given him the experience that he clearly has, it has somehow not managed to snuff that out. And so, Solas finds himself worrying; he finds Cassandra worrying. He finds Varric worrying, and he suspects he will find others worrying as well.
Solas knows that doing what he must to restore the world will hurt that joy, and he already feels the guilt of it; however fleeting his life, what Shisui is, and feels, seems very, very real. Solid in a way that he cannot bear thinking of, and yet.
There is something different about Uchiha Shisui.
He is more than he appears: of that, Solas is certain.
When he comes out of the bedroom, he has clean clothes, dry hair, and a familiar crow on his shoulder.
"Your turn, Solas. I left clean water, but you can manage your own temperature," he says. Solas nods, and heads for the bedroom. The tub is indeed full of clean, room-temperature water; Solas sees no need to waste the mana to raise the temperature for himself, and so he wastes no time scrubbing down, and then, as Shisui no doubt did, he uses magic to clean and heat the tub to a normal bathing temperature, before availing himself of the clean clothes laid out with his name left on a note atop them.
He finds himself rather unsurprised by the boy's thoughtfulness; it is typical of him, really. There is also a set laid out for Varric, and he presumes that is where Cassandra's came from as well. All courtesy, no doubt, of Shisui's storage scroll. The magic is similar in nature to that which powers the 'tags' Shisui has taught him to use, though vastly more complex. The exploding tags needed only to store a certain quantity of potential energy, and the smoke tags needed only to keep a compressed volume of smoke--very low mass, unlike the storage scroll which while it must surely have limits, has so far been capable of carrying everything Shisui has put inside it.
Solas would be a liar if he denied wanting one of his own.
He would be an even greater liar if he denied wanting the means of creating one, so that he could provide them to all of his people. The logistics advantage alone makes his head spin , and he has no doubt whatsoever that everyone who has seen it so far is just as aware of the potential. That Shisui takes it for granted tells Solas more about his people than perhaps anything else he has said or done so far.
He leaves the room, and Shisui says,
"Varric, you're next."
"I left clean, hot water," Solas says. "Please check the temperature; I can heat or cool it if you require."
"Thanks Chuckles," the dwarf replies, rising from his chair, and heading back for his turn. "I have to say, I'm looking forward to this." He closes the door behind him, and it does not open again, so Solas assumes that the temperature is acceptable.
The two new recruits have departed during Solas' bath, leaving the four of them alone in the suite. Cassandra is reading a message that is curled at the ends, no doubt from being rolled up in the message tube carried by Shisui's crow--who is currently being preened and fussed over by the boy, the harness with the message tube set to one side.
"Solas, c'mere," Shisui says. His speech is oddly less formal than it is even normally, focused as he is on the care of his avian friend. Solas joins him, sitting nearby at the table.
"This is Kuroba," he says, introducing the crow. "Kuroba, kono hitot'te Solas to-yuu ," he continues, gesturing toward Solas. "He doesn't speak this language, yet," he adds.
" Yorosh'kuh ," the bird says, eyeing Solas.
"I am pleased to meet you as well, Kuroba," Solas replies, inclining his head slightly. He is guessing at the meaning, but it... feels right. Shisui grins at him.
"Leliana also sent a couple of goodies," he says, and offers Solas a small vial of lyrium potion. "The templar and mage with the bandits had a stash. Kuroba could only carry two, but I guess neither of them were expecting someone to come all the way from Tevinter with a bunch of nice things for us."
Solas arches an eyebrow at that, and then looks to the pile of books and papers on the table beside him. There is a certain amount of ash and blood on them, old and dried, that suggests their origin in the ill-begotten future the two of them had been sent to.
"Yeah, I've been reading," Shisui confirms. "Trying to sort things out to send back to Leliana for immediate action. Cassandra and Varric have been helping. It's slow going since I grabbed... everything that wasn't nailed down, really," he adds sheepishly. And he hands Solas a stack of papers.
"Just scan and sort," he says. "'Now' and 'Later', and 'Obvious Junk But We're Keeping It Anyway Just In Case.' Once you're done, I narrow it down again, and then Cassandra has a look. Most of it is junk, but there are a few things I'm going to condense down and send back to Leliana as soon as possible." He meets Solas' eyes, and Solas understands: things like demon armies and assassinated Empresses should not wait until they return to Haven, or even until they find the Inquisition forward camp.
"Understood," Solas replies, and starts sorting through things with those three categories in mind. Part of him wishes that he could sweep some of this away, but he keeps that part under control, and merely shuffles anything that indicates some action of his people into the 'Later' pile, in the hopes that he will be able to contain it later. Shisui is far too sharp-eyed to try and fool with sleight-of-hand right under his nose.
For all that he is engaged in caring for his crow, Shisui is quick to snatch things from the 'Now' pile, and even quicker to read them, and either put them aside, or pass them on to the Seeker.
When Varric rejoins them after his bath, he slides right into place, and joins the circle of paperwork.
They are at it for another hour before Shisui calls a halt, and starts sealing things back into his scroll. The still small pile of papers remaining looks as if it might just fit into Kuroba's message harness.
"Yeah," Shisui agrees, when Solas says as much. "He can handle it. I'll add a cover letter, and then he can get going again."
The bird gives Shisui a dirty look.
In response, the boy produces a bracelet of glittering sapphires and gleaming pearls, easily worth a small fortune, and offers it to Kuroba.
The bird settles the bracelet about himself like a necklace, and fluffs his feathers out proudly, before flapping over to the mirror and strutting about, admiring himself.
" I-yo, " he says, before flapping back to the table, where Shisui is writing the cover letter to Leliana with a fine brush on very thin paper. His eyes are red, and the motions of his hand are quick and tightly controlled, leaving line after line of tiny, but legible words behind.
When he finishes, he sighs, eyes going dark, and he flexes his hand.
"This missing anything?" he asks, offering Solas the paper. He scans it for pertinent information, and then shakes his head.
"I believe you have everything covered. Seeker? Master Tethras?" Solas asks, passing it over, after looking for permission, and getting it with a nod.
"Damn Fluffy, this could've almost come off a printing press," Varric says, one eyebrow rising. "I mean... Damn. Looks about right though. And... mind if I forward this bit about the quakes to my contacts in Orzammar?"
"Go ahead," Shisui says. "I get how that could be bad news for an underground kingdom, and the sooner they can prepare, the better."
"I agree," Cassandra says, when she takes the paper. She passes it back to Shisui after a moment to scan it, saying, "Varric is correct; I have seen professional scribes with worse hands than this."
" Seeker , say it again," Varric says, clutching his heart, and grinning at her.
" Ugh ," she responds, turning her head away from him.
"It's not my normal handwriting," Shisui says. "I don't usually bother with this kind of thing unless it's an official report, but I thought the situation called for it." He rolls all the papers together tightly, and puts them inside the scroll case, before calling,
"Come on Kuroba, you can admire your new necklace some more later. The sooner you get this to Leliana, the better."
The bird perks up at Leliana's name, and hops right back over to Shisui.
"Leliana, ii snacks ga'aru'yo ," Kuroba says, the word snacks right in plain Common. Shisui snickers as he helps the bird back into his harness.
"That would be the first word you pick up in this language," he says, before breaking into a rapid string of his own language. Solas thinks he recognises a word or two at this point, and he definitely hears Leliana's name more than once. Kuroba shows every evidence of understanding every word that Shisui says, and Solas is fairly certain at this point that the bird is a spirit as much as it is a bird; some minor demon of Greed, given the value of the trinket Shisui handed over. Or maybe not; it is hard to tell.
Kuroba hops up on Shisui's shoulder, and preens a few of his curls, chattering at him in the manner of crows, and the sight makes Solas reject the notion of the bird being a Greed spirit; the affection is too genuine. Too sweet. It makes Shisui smile; Varric and Cassandra too, and even Solas feels the corners of his lips tugging up.
Shisui gets up, and takes Kuroba to the window, and lets him out into the overcast afternoon; the rain has stopped for the moment, but the air is still damp and chill, more than it ought to be.
"All right," he says when he returns to his seat. "Let's get read for dinner with the Arl. I need a briefing of what to expect: protocol, foods, customs, the usual..."
It looks to be a long afternoon.