Dragon Age Inquisition: Faith

Chapter 5: A forthcoming invitation

Evie followed Jenna out of the Princess's box and away from the tournament stands. The elf appeared to be leading her towards the tents where the competitors awaited their events. She waited until they were alone on the path and she was sure no one could hear her before she spoke. "What's happened?"

Jenna paused mid-step and turned around to look at her. Her eyes skipped up and down Evie's frame and came to rest on her face; the spy appeared to be evaluating her, though Evie did not know for what. There was more than a hint of challenge in Jenna's expression. Evie suddenly realized how she must look in the elf's eyes—like a Bann's daughter playing spy, indulged because her sister was the Inquisitor.

Evie hoped her expression did not betray her nerves. "Are you trying to decide whether I can be trusted?" she asked calmly, and without judgment.

Jenna's eyes crinkled slightly. "Be assured that I do not question your loyalties, Lady Evelyn. But I was surprised when you were the one who asked me for the Ostwick white. How long have you known our mutual friend?"

Suspicion bubbled in Evie's stomach. One of Sister Nightingale's agents would not ask such a question out of idle curiosity. Something was amiss at the Tantervale tourney—and Painter was trying to determine if she was up to the task of helping.

"I first exchanged letters with our friend when the Inquisition was still in Haven," Evie said carefully. "We have corresponded regularly ever since. She seems to enjoy the gossip I pass along from the Marcher nobility."

Jenna moistened her lips and pressed them together, then motioned for Evie to continue their walk. They had taken only a few steps before she spoke again, her voice low and pleasant. "This morning I received information indicating that there is a group at the tourney planning to—ah, to invite the Inquisitor's sister to become their guest. Apparently they will be disinclined to accept a refusal."

Evie managed to keep her steps even, though she wanted to stumble from surprise. "I see. Who will be issuing this charming invitation?" she murmured, unfolding her fan to stir a slight breeze, pretending that this was an ordinary conversation instead of a lightly coded discussion of her own potential kidnapping.

"Our friends in Tevinter. But they have asked an ally at the tournament to deliver the invitation—a member of the Marcher elite whose identity we do not know."

Evie frowned. A Marcher working for the Venatori? She had to admit the notion offended her, and not just because of Cecy. Marchers took pride in their independence. It was bad enough to tie yourself to a foreign power, but bending the knee to a Tevinter cult? That was truly appalling.

"They plan to approach you during this evening's ball. Until we spoke I thought my goal was simply to prevent the invitation from reaching you. But now I wonder if more might be gained." Jenna looked at her seriously.

Evie's heart thudded in her chest. Bait. She's asking if I will agree to be used as bait. For a wild moment she wanted to say no. What if they actually succeeded in taking her and turning her over to the Venatori?

But if the Venatori agent remained hidden, who knew what damage they might do—how much further they might spread the cult's influence before they were stopped? When she thought of what her sister had seen at Redcliffe and Adamant, Evie knew what she had to do.

"I would be very interested to meet someone who knows our friends in Tevinter," Evie said. "Perhaps we should let them deliver their invitation?"

Jenna nodded serenely. "That was my thought as well. I am glad you agree."

**********

To keep up appearances, Jenna did take Evie to introduce herself to the Inquisition's champions, who were sitting under the shade in a tent while they awaited their turn to be summoned for their honor duel. The Inquisition had sent a rather motley lot—a handsome blond man wearing full armor, a Tevinter warrior who almost looked younger than Evie, a sandy-haired female elf carrying a brace of knives, a whip-thin man with dark skin who was sharpening an arrow, and a stone-faced infantrywoman who barely glanced up when Evie and Jenna entered their tent.

"Gentlemen, ladies," Jenna said. "May I present Lady Evelyn Trevelyan, daughter of Bann Alexander Trevelyan and sister to Her Worship the Inquisitor. She has come to wish you luck."

Evie curtsied to the room as the fighters stood. "You honor us, my lady," the blonde knight said, sweeping her a very Orlesian bow. "Michel de Chevin, at your service and command."

"Cremisius Aclassi. Pleased to meet you," the Tevinter said. "This is Moira"—the bulky infantrywoman—"and Riann"—the elf—"and Samuel"—the archer.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance. You go by Krem, do you not?" Evie asked, smiling at the young man. "The Inquisitor's letters mentioned the Chargers. She seems quite impressed with you."

A slight, pleased smile curved Krem's mouth. The expression was quickly gone, replaced by a warrior's respectful stoicism, but Evie was glad to see that her sister's good opinion meant something to the mercenary.

"Well, then. It is customary for young Marcher ladies to give tokens of their approval to favored champions," Evie announced. With only a bit of embarrassment, she pulled a small bundle of ribbons from her pocket—blue to match her dress. Her mother had insisted on her packing them. "For luck and all that."

"I cannot help but feel that I ought to decline," Michel chuckled as he took one of the ribbons. "I will be jousting for the Inquisition but I am terribly out of practice. Alas, I was the best we had. The Inquisition's Commander does not think much of competitive jousting. 'Expensive, extremely dangerous, and of little value in combat' were his exact words, I believe."

"Commander Cullen sounds like a sensible man. I think I would like him," Evie said wryly.

"I should hope so!" Samuel the archer replied with a slight smile, taking one of the ribbons as well. "I mean, considering."

"Considering what?" Evie asked, blinking.

"Considering that he and the Inquisitor are ..."

Krem cleared his throat loudly; Samuel's face went slack. "Ah. I'm just talking nonsense. Forgive my big mouth, my lady." He made her a deep, slightly awkward bow.

"Oh, on account of the fact that they're courting, you mean!" Evie said brightly.

It was just a guess—but apparently a correct one, since Krem smiled with relief and said, "Oh good. You do know."

"Of course. The heat is just making me dull-witted," Evie lied. Cecy, you secretive little minx! "Cecy's very private, though—if you could keep the news quiet I know the Inquisitor would prefer that."

Michel nodded gravely. "You have our word, Lady Evelyn."

Evie did not bother to hide her smile as she and Jenna walked back to the Princess's box. She had sensed a certain affection for the Commander in Cecy's letters, but she never would have guessed that they were courting. The knowledge delighted Evie thoroughly. If Cecy had to wade through swamps and snow and red lyrium mazes saving Thedas she should at least have someone to kiss at the end of the day.

Jenna's voice cut through her pleased reverie. "We will speak again later," the elf murmured as they neared Elinor's box. "Make note of anyone who seems to be paying you particular attention. And take this."

She slid something heavy into Evie's right hand. Evie glanced down to see a slim silver cylinder, clearly Orlesian in design, etched all around with flowers. Perfume? Surely not.

"It contains a most disorienting scent," Jenna explained.

Evie swallowed and slipped the gift into her pocket. "My thanks," she said, rather pleased that she still sounded calm—at least in her own ears.

Well. Apparently this ball will be much more interesting than my last.