Denerim Confidential

Chapter 11

Max Trevelyan was being uncharacteristically quiet as they escorted Detective Leto back to the Circle's office building. The conversation with Anders seemed to have unsettled him. Mei found herself deeply annoyed. Maker's sake, that can't be the first time a mage has told him that to his face, can it?

Hm. Maybe it can.

But could he really be so clueless? How could you live in a Circle and not realize it was a prison sentence for the mages there, that the Templars were more like guards than guardians?

Oh, of course, the mages were technically there of their own free will. They could leave the Circle at any time. All it would cost them was their license to use magic. Then, because they'd been raised and trained in the Circle, they'd have to go out and try to scrape together a living with no skills besides using magic. Oh, and if they ever touched their magic again, even for a healing spell, they'd be criminals, lucky to avoid a Tranquil's brand. The choice between life in the Circle and taking your chances in the outside world wasn't really much of a choice, in the end.

Cullen understood that. She thought. Mei found herself wondering uncomfortably how Cullen would have reacted to Anders's words, to hearing someone say straight out that most Templars didn't treat mages like people.

"I'm sorry Anders wasn't more helpful," Max said at last.

Detective Leto shrugged eloquently. "It was worth the attempt. I appreciate your assistance." This, he directed at both Max and Mei—though he did not quite meet Mei's eyes.

"What does Alistair make of all this?" Max asked curiously.

"Very little. At least, very little that he has shared with me." Detective Leto frowned.

"You think he's hiding something?" Max suggested.

"I think he is reluctant to cooperate, for reasons I do not entirely understand." The Detective smiled faintly. "It is not the first time, however. I hope he may be more forthcoming if I tell him I have evidence that the robbery was not random."

"What if I talked to him?" Max suggested. "Enchanter Surana and I have to head into the city anyway for another case. We'd be happy to see if we can dig a bit more."

Why on earth would we do that? Mei had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep that thought from escaping her lips. Interesting as the case sounded, it was not their business. They had to focus on tracking down the source of Fiona's threats. But Max was almost compulsive about trying to make everyone like him. So of course he was bending over backwards to be helpful to a disapproving Detective who looked like he hadn't cracked a smile since the Exalted Age.

For a moment, she expected the Detective to be offended—read a certain way, it could seem as if Max was an arrogant Templar agent stepping on the toes of the local Guard. But the Detective seemed to take it in stride.

"I believe I will take you up on that, Agent Trevelyan." The Detective's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I would be interested to see what he might say in front of a former instructor."

*******

It sort of killed Alistair to hand over the payment for the two-bed motel room he was sharing with Juliet Hawke. He had taken a perverse sort of pride in making his own way in a lousy apartment on his terrible pay, but between the private investigator's fees and now the motel costs, he was actually having to spend his inheritance. He half expected the bills he was carrying to leap from his wallet and start screaming, "We belong to Maric Theirin! Take a good look at the guy carrying us, remind you of anyone?"

He wanted to go back to normal as soon as this whole stupid someone's-trying-to-kill-me thing sorted itself out. So as the cranky motel clerk counted his payment, Alistair promised himself that he would spend just enough of Maric's money to not die, then put it back in the bank and continue ignoring its existence. Yes. Solid plan.