(no subject)

The best-laid plans of Dalish Keepers never do amount to much, when the rest of the world has its own ideas. For all Deshanna Istimaethoriel's agonizing about whether to spare her First or her Second as a secret envoy to the Conclave, she's lost them both now. All roads lead to Skyhold.

Ellana, the Second, ever power-hungry, with her secret tomes of necromancy and her vallaslin pledged to Falon'Din, had leapt at the chance to go before Corentin could get a word in edgewise, and for once in her life, her enthusiasm had paid off beyond her wildest dreams. Corentin hadn't begrudged her at the time. After a lifetime's worth of rivalry and resentment, it had seemed reasonable to throw her a bone and let her take on a task he hadn't wanted anyway. By the time news of the Conclave disaster had reached the clan, she'd already been well on her way to heading up the entire Inquisition.

Of course she'd end up running the show, he'd thought, but there had been affection in that sentiment. Ellana is ruthless, but not heartless; her ambition hasn't ever really jeopardized her soul, or anyone else's.

The Keeper hadn't shared his faith in her. "When the world's eyes turn to the Dalish, they always want to watch us burn," she'd said. "You'll be our spy yet, da'len. Keep an eye on her. However you can."

And so he finds himself on the long and arduous road to Haven, keeping an ear out for any news he can find along the way. What he hears--the headless Chantry in disarray, the priests revolting against the blasphemous Herald, violence erupting more and more frequently between clergy and laity, mage and ex-templar, human and elf--is increasingly troubling, and yet not entirely unexpected.

Not yet.