arrived in Weisshaupt, they still hadn’t heard a word about when they might undergo the Joining. Valya wasn’t sure the Wardens even wanted them to join. Every morning they went to the mausoleum-library to resume their research, and every evening they gathered in a dusty lecture hall for lessons on combating darkspawn, but never was there any mention of becoming Grey Wardens themselves. A few more refugee mages trickled into the fortress from other Circles, seeking the same sanctuary that Valya and her companions had, but they’d heard nothing more than the Hossberg refugees had.
In a way, it was a relief. The Fifth Blight had ended only ten years ago. In the entire history of Thedas, no Blight had occurred within a hundred years of the last. And while Valya could understand laying down her life to end a world-consuming devastation like that, it seemed pointless to embrace the madness and corruption of the darkspawn taint when there wasn’t going to be a Blight in her lifetime.
But it worried her too. If they weren’t Grey Wardens, then they were refugees. And if they were just refugees, not comrades-in-arms, how hard would the Wardens try to protect them if the Chantry came calling?
The uncertainty nagged at her.
One morning, unable to bear it any longer, she sought out Caronel in a little courtyard where she knew he liked to read before the day grew too hot. Green and white tiles, chipped and faded but still lovely, made a simple geometric mosaic around its perimeter. A small fountain burbled in its center, adding to the cool in the early blue shade.
It wouldn’t last long. Summer in the Anderfels was as brutal as it was brief, and the heat of the day would soon burn through the courtyard’s enchanted languor. But for these few ephemeral hours, it was glorious.
Valya almost didn’t want to spoil it by asking the question she’d come to press. But she needed an answer more than she needed this illusion of peace.
“When will we go through the Joining?” she asked.
Caronel took a moment to look up from his book. She couldn’t tell if he was pleased or annoyed by her question, but he certainly seemed to be surprised. Placing a thumb on the book to mark his page, he shook his golden hair back and asked neutrally, “How did you find me?”
Valya pulled a folded letter from her satchel. It smelled extravagantly of lilacs and, she suspected, was equally extravagant in its contents. In a way, she found it impressive that Berrith still found opportunities to go through headlong girlish infatuation despite their circumstances.
Offering the letter to Caronel, she said, “ Some of us take notice of your comings and goings. Promising to deliver this was all I had to do to get your entire schedule.”
The blond elf sighed, simultaneously amused and irritated. He took the letter and tucked it into the cover leaf of his book without another glance. The fragrance of lilacs wafted inescapably from it. “She’s a remarkably persistent girl. And very much a child. As are you all.”
“Is that why we haven’t been asked to do the Joining?”
“It’s one reason. Another is that we have use for you presently. If half of you choke to death on the Archdemon’s blood, I’ll have to go through all those tedious old letters and maps myself—a truly awful prospect.” Caronel cocked his head at her. “Why are you so eager to undergo the Joining anyway? Setting my selfishness aside, it’s a dreadful experience. Many who attempt it die. There’s no Blight, and you’re already safe here. I don’t understand the urgency.”
Valya brushed gritty dust from a bench on the opposite side of the courtyard and sat. The stone was cool and rough under her thighs, sloped downward in the front by countless Grey Wardens before her. Sitting in their shadow felt a bit like standing in the footsteps of ghosts; once again, the sheer weight of history in Weisshaupt pressed down upon her.
She did her best to shake it off. That