Leon really needed to stop trying to walk and read at the same time.
Heâd managed to crack his forehead on another doorframe, though mercifully no one was around this time, and he winced, reaching up to his brow and rubbing the sore spot with a sigh. Sometimes, he really wished he were just a few inches shorter.
Ducking under the side entrance this time, he made his way around to the long staircase that led up past Rilienâs personal floor to the workshop directly beneath the rookery. Heâd been summoned, more or less, by word of some kind of breakthrough regarding⊠well, he wasnât entirely sure what yet. Something to do with the Red Templars. Since he needed to run these papers over to the spymaster anyway, heâd figured it wouldnât hurt to check on whatever it was in person. Rilien was hardly one to waste time.
The door to the workshop was open, and Leon stepped inside, his head clearing the doorframe this time, clearing his throat politely in case his presence had gone unnoticed.
Rilien wasnât by himself this time, and indeed seemed to be conferring with a young-looking dwarven woman, her short, dark hair pulled into a small tail. She wore mostly heavy-duty clothing, overlaid with leathers for work rather than battle, and from various belts, bandoliers, and harnesses were strung a wide array of metal objects, most of them either tools of some kind or what looked like small mechanisms and devices. Leon had met her once before, shortly after she joined the Inquisition, and sheâd given him his mesh tea-steeping contraption, a small thing that was designed with a sort of mindful simplicity. Her name, he could recall, was SennesĂa, though she introduced herself as both that and Widget, apparently an informal nickname referring to her proclivity for designing such implements as she carried.
Presently, both she and Rilien were examining something on a wooden worktable, SennesĂa standing on a wooden block to aid her height. Though she appeared much the same as she had last time he saw her, Rilien was not quite his usual self. His skin looked waxy and slightly drawn, paler even than usual, and it would seem heâd been sweating a fair bit, from the dampened ends of the hair near his nape. His expression was unchanged, but his physical appearance itself was clearly that of a person unwell.
When they turned to greet him, SennesĂaâs motion gave him a look at what they were examining: a red crystal of perhaps six inches in length and three in width. From the way it glowed, it had to be red lyrium. âAh. âLo there, Commander.â SennesĂa spoke with a slightly roughened accent, as though sheâd been raised among people with a great deal less education than Leon had.
âGood afternoon, Miss SennesĂa,â Leon replied mildly, though he did not bother to disguise his concern at Rilienâs present condition. âRilien? You said you had something to tell me, but are you sure it cannot wait? You seem⊠ill.â Leon wasnât really sure how else to put it, but in his limited experience, Rilien hadnât bothered with tact unless it was necessary for something, and so he figured the tranquil wouldnât mind if he did the same.
The mechanist gave him a look like that was something sheâd said already, but Rilien shook his head slightly. âIt is the lyrium. I will recover when it is removed.â His tone held as steadily as ever, so clearly whatever physical effects he was feeling were manageable, even if they made him look like hell. âMore importantly, we have arrived at a theory regarding what makes red lyrium different from the ordinary variety.â He moved his eyes to SennesĂa, who nodded.
âI worked in lyrium mines fer a few years, in Orzammar. Mâ familyâs mininâ caste, so itâs what I knew first.â She looked briefly awkward, but then hurried onwards in the explanation. âAnyway, er⊠itâs got some interestinâ properties. Rilien here gets sick around it, faster ân anyone else does, but heâs sensitive to magic, he says, so I figure⊠the magic is sick, too.â She reached up to scratch at the back of her head, shrugging a bit. The pause in the explanation seemed polite, rather than one created because she had no more to say. Evidently, she expected a question here.
âSick? Sick how?â Leon hadnât heard of such a thing before, but of course red lyrium itself was a relatively new development, at least on the surface of Thedas. The dwarves of Orzammar hadnât been familiar, eitherâthe worldâs first exposure to the stuff in living memory had been through something unearthed in an ancient thaig, or so the story went. The only other things that far down in the earth were supposed to be the old Tevinter gods that became archdemons, and the darkspawn that searched endlessly for their slumbering-places.
âSick like⊠tainted.â SennesĂa compressed her lips into a thin line, then sighed and dropped her hand back to her side. âThe songâs different, yâsee. Us in the mininâ caste, we can learn tâ hear the song, but this isnât the normal one. The taintâs the only reason I can think why this stuff poisons dwarves, like that Bartrand fellow Rilien mentioned. If it was like any other lyrium, it wouldnât be able t' do that, âcept if it was raw, which that bit wasnât.â
Rilien nodded slightly, folding his arms into his sleeves and taking a step away from the work table. âI believe SennesĂaâs deductions to be correct. I as well have frequently worked with lyrium, and though my tranquility was never complete, I have only ever felt it barely. Not like this. It exudes physical heat, but also⊠there are mental effects, and they are not entirely unlike accounts of what occurs to Grey Wardens at the end of their lifespans, or those who are affected by the taint and become ghouls.â
Leon grit his teeth at the mention of Grey Wardens, but eased the tension in his jaw with conscious effort. âSo what does this mean? I thought the Blight only affected living things, not inanimate objects like stone.â Of course, lyrium wasnât always stone, he knew that. But it was either that or a powder, or a potable liquid, so the point remained the same. He eyed the piece on the table warily. He didnât feel any different, being in proximity to it, but then, he wasnât a mage, and heâd never taken lyriumâtemplars only received their first dose at the conclusion of their training, and heâd been moved into the Seekers before that happened.
âYou are correct.â Rilien stood a fraction more stiffly than usual, but a little bit of color was returning to him already.
âIt means lyriumâs a livinâ thing. Sort of.â SennesĂa looked unsure how to explain it, and shrugged again. âItâs somethinâ some people have always thought, though youâd have to ask someone who knows more about magic for the fancy details. But I know it sings, and if it sings, seems like it could be alive.â She exhaled a short, sharp sigh, scratching her cheek just beneath her eye.
âThe theoryâs really interestinâ, but probably not the most important part for you. What youâll want tâ know is that it could make a lot of people sick. Folks like me, with a bit of resistance, theyâll be okay fer a while, but not too long, if thereâs a lot of it. Youâve seen what it does tâ templars who drink the stuff.â She paused there, perhaps feeling little more needed to be said on that point. âIngestinâ even onceâd probably kill a mage, so youâll want t' keep that lot well away. Probably better if they donât even touch it. Normal tranquil are probably about as okay as us dwarves, considerinâ.â
She stopped there, though, and glanced at Rilien expectantly. He picked up easily on the cue and the thread of conversation both. âActually, Commander, I understand that you fought red templars with your hands at Therinfal. Did you at no point feel any ill effects?â
Leon moved a little further into the workshop, taking up a spot at the worktable, studying the red lyrium with some trepidation. He still didnât feel anything, really. âNo. I know I hit it directly a few times, too. Probably managed to inhale some dustâŠâ He trailed off, something from an earlier discussion coming back to him. âCaptain SĂ©verine said that Ophelia, another Seeker, had publicly consumed some as the templars did, but appeared to suffer no ill effects. And if the symptoms are as bad as weâve seen in others, I would have noticed when I met up with her. She didnât look or sound affected at all.â
He reached forward for the shard, picking it up in a gloved hand and turning it over. He would admit, the light it emitted seemed rather sinister-looking to him, but he felt nothing in particular. Putting it back down for a moment, he tugged his glove off and touched it directly. Still nothing, not even a mild hint of nausea, though it was indeed quite warm to his fingers. He didnât want to cut himself with it, of courseâeven he didnât want to risk something like that directly in his bloodstream if he could avoid it, but if Ophelia was anything to go by, even that might not do anything to him.
âI donât know,â he said at last. âMaybe Seekers are resistant for some reason.â
âHuh.â SennesĂa was looking at him curiously. âEven I wouldnât want to touch that with my bare hands.â She was, indeed, wearing thick-looking work gloves up to her elbows, and had apparently been making use of eye-protection as well, from the goggles perched on her head.
Rilienâs eyes narrowed slightly, but he gave no indication as to why. âIn any case, it is only a theory. We will have to study it further, and devise some way of storing it that cancels the effects completely.â
The mechanist nodded. âCold does somethinâ, I noticed, though it might not be a good somethinâ for us. If I keep it in a lead box like this, I canât hear the singinâ, so thatâs probably a good bet fer now.â With great care, she lifted the shard into the box in question and set it down, closing the heavy lid over the whole container. âWell, Iâm goinâ tâ go put this away. Fer the best, I think.â She looked apprehensively at Rilien, shaking her head. âYou get some rest now, Rilien. You donât look too great, if youâll forgive me sayinâ so.â
Leon had been about to offer to help with the box, but she seemed to have it well in-hand, and after she left, he gently closed the door behind her. Deciding that calling further attention to Rilienâs condition was unlikely to be of any help, he instead handed the tranquil the papers heâd originally come bearing. âScout reports. I thought youâd make better use of them than I can, at the moment.â He paused, trying to work up to the other reason he was here, the one that he found it much more difficult to discuss. He didnât find it easy to talk about, in general, particularly not to people he had to see on any kind of regular basis. Fortunately, Rilien wasnât really the sort of person who would bring it up or look at him differently simply because he knew, and so it was a little more bearable.
âThe, ah⊠potions youâre making for me. Have you been modifying the formula at all?â He didnât think Rilien would do something like that, but he felt he had to make sure, just in case. Whether or not he meant any harm, the tranquil was, to Leonâs estimation, the kind of person who often went for efficiency, and sometimes that meant changing things without bothering to tell anyone, as the Seeker himself knew from personal experience.
Rilien blinked at him, and if heâd been anyone else, the minute alteration in his expression might have qualified as offense. âI have not. Are they performing substandardly?â He crossed the room to the alchemy table heâd set up, this one now with a full standing kit, much larger than the portable version in the rookery above. From the shelf behind the table, he took down half a dozen glass vials, slotting them easily into the spaces between his fingers, and returned to the center of the room, holding them up to the light of the chandelier for inspectionâlikely Leonâs rather than his own.
And they did indeed look exactly the same as they always had, a blackened red rendered almost carbuncle in the light. Leon knew for a fact that theyâd tasted the same as well, dismissing one possible cause of his present predicament. âNo, no theyâve been rather the opposite, actually.â That was just the problem. Heâd suspected Rilien might have altered the formula explicitly because they seemed better than they usually were. âItâs just⊠the effects seem to be lingering longer, and⊠bleeding over, into situations where Iâd really prefer they didnât.â Heâd noticed an increased degree of irritability, for one, and he suspected something was making his physical symptoms worse as well. Headaches, muscle-spasms, and his persistent inability to get a good nightâs sleep may well all be connected.
âI donât suppose thereâs anything you could tell me about that?â
Rilien set the vials down on the nearest flat surface, clearly leaving them there for Leon to take, and spent a moment considering the question. âThe reagent is exceedingly rare.â He glanced down at one of the vials. âI had not had much experience brewing with it before you asked me to, and there is little alchemic literature on its properties and side effects. But I have encountered other texts, wherein others who have used it have described the long-term effects.â
There was another pause, this one a little longer. âYour progression down the list is accelerated. That is perhaps to be expectedâmost people in your position only require one dose at all. Your continued consumption is most likely to blame.â
Leon sighed deeply. That, of course, was the most obvious answer, though heâd been hoping for a different one, one he could do something about. Heâd always known this would have consequences. Ophelia had warned him of as much. His faith had bid him accept those consequences. And now⊠his position in the Inquisition demanded that he continue to do so, faith or no faith. He swallowed. It was quite one thing for those consequences to be some indeterminate number of years in the future. It was another altogether to be able to feel them beginning to take their toll.
âHow long, do you suppose?â He asked the question just as evenly as Rilien usually spoke, unwilling to expend any more on it than that.
âThat will depend on how often you imbibe it between now and then. If you continue at your recent rate, perhaps a year or two in total. If you slow down, it may take longer.â Rilienâs words were dispassionate, but he tilted his head faintly to one side. âIf you were to consult others with some relevant expertise, you may be able to extend that further. Seeing a healer about it regularly would not do harm. And I understand that the Imperium has many people who may know more than I do about blood magic.â They of course had both a healer and an Imperial mage among the Inquisitionâs irregulars.
Leonâs immediate instinct was to reject the suggestions. But⊠the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if it might not help to talk to Cyrus, at least, see if there was anything he might know about this kind of thing. The problem was, he didnât really understand all the pieces of it. He doubted even Ophelia did. She didnât have the same problem after all, despite being a Seeker herself. They both knew, though, that no healer could repair the damage done by their methods of combat, and considering just how sensitive and easily-distressed Asala was, not to mention her current state of being barely functional, he wasnât going to talk to her about his problem anytime soon.
âAs you say,â was what he ended up going with, and he inclined his head to Rilien, taking up the vials and depositing them in a pocket. âYouâve my thanks, for this much.â Heâd seldom met an alchemist willing to do the work for him, once they knew what it was for, what it would do. He didnât tell most of them, of course.
âI will continue to look into the matter.â Rilien returned the slight nod with one of his own. âIf there is an alchemical solution, I will find it.â His words contained no trace of uncertainty.
Leon smiled, the expression for once exactly as bitter as he felt, though the feeling wasnât directed at Rilien. Far from it. But he said nothing further, taking his leave from the workshop. There was no alchemical solutionâhe was quite sure there was no solution at all. Those had been the terms.
The strength he needed, his life in exchange.
Heâd managed to crack his forehead on another doorframe, though mercifully no one was around this time, and he winced, reaching up to his brow and rubbing the sore spot with a sigh. Sometimes, he really wished he were just a few inches shorter.
Ducking under the side entrance this time, he made his way around to the long staircase that led up past Rilienâs personal floor to the workshop directly beneath the rookery. Heâd been summoned, more or less, by word of some kind of breakthrough regarding⊠well, he wasnât entirely sure what yet. Something to do with the Red Templars. Since he needed to run these papers over to the spymaster anyway, heâd figured it wouldnât hurt to check on whatever it was in person. Rilien was hardly one to waste time.
The door to the workshop was open, and Leon stepped inside, his head clearing the doorframe this time, clearing his throat politely in case his presence had gone unnoticed.
Rilien wasnât by himself this time, and indeed seemed to be conferring with a young-looking dwarven woman, her short, dark hair pulled into a small tail. She wore mostly heavy-duty clothing, overlaid with leathers for work rather than battle, and from various belts, bandoliers, and harnesses were strung a wide array of metal objects, most of them either tools of some kind or what looked like small mechanisms and devices. Leon had met her once before, shortly after she joined the Inquisition, and sheâd given him his mesh tea-steeping contraption, a small thing that was designed with a sort of mindful simplicity. Her name, he could recall, was SennesĂa, though she introduced herself as both that and Widget, apparently an informal nickname referring to her proclivity for designing such implements as she carried.
Presently, both she and Rilien were examining something on a wooden worktable, SennesĂa standing on a wooden block to aid her height. Though she appeared much the same as she had last time he saw her, Rilien was not quite his usual self. His skin looked waxy and slightly drawn, paler even than usual, and it would seem heâd been sweating a fair bit, from the dampened ends of the hair near his nape. His expression was unchanged, but his physical appearance itself was clearly that of a person unwell.
When they turned to greet him, SennesĂaâs motion gave him a look at what they were examining: a red crystal of perhaps six inches in length and three in width. From the way it glowed, it had to be red lyrium. âAh. âLo there, Commander.â SennesĂa spoke with a slightly roughened accent, as though sheâd been raised among people with a great deal less education than Leon had.
âGood afternoon, Miss SennesĂa,â Leon replied mildly, though he did not bother to disguise his concern at Rilienâs present condition. âRilien? You said you had something to tell me, but are you sure it cannot wait? You seem⊠ill.â Leon wasnât really sure how else to put it, but in his limited experience, Rilien hadnât bothered with tact unless it was necessary for something, and so he figured the tranquil wouldnât mind if he did the same.
The mechanist gave him a look like that was something sheâd said already, but Rilien shook his head slightly. âIt is the lyrium. I will recover when it is removed.â His tone held as steadily as ever, so clearly whatever physical effects he was feeling were manageable, even if they made him look like hell. âMore importantly, we have arrived at a theory regarding what makes red lyrium different from the ordinary variety.â He moved his eyes to SennesĂa, who nodded.
âI worked in lyrium mines fer a few years, in Orzammar. Mâ familyâs mininâ caste, so itâs what I knew first.â She looked briefly awkward, but then hurried onwards in the explanation. âAnyway, er⊠itâs got some interestinâ properties. Rilien here gets sick around it, faster ân anyone else does, but heâs sensitive to magic, he says, so I figure⊠the magic is sick, too.â She reached up to scratch at the back of her head, shrugging a bit. The pause in the explanation seemed polite, rather than one created because she had no more to say. Evidently, she expected a question here.
âSick? Sick how?â Leon hadnât heard of such a thing before, but of course red lyrium itself was a relatively new development, at least on the surface of Thedas. The dwarves of Orzammar hadnât been familiar, eitherâthe worldâs first exposure to the stuff in living memory had been through something unearthed in an ancient thaig, or so the story went. The only other things that far down in the earth were supposed to be the old Tevinter gods that became archdemons, and the darkspawn that searched endlessly for their slumbering-places.
âSick like⊠tainted.â SennesĂa compressed her lips into a thin line, then sighed and dropped her hand back to her side. âThe songâs different, yâsee. Us in the mininâ caste, we can learn tâ hear the song, but this isnât the normal one. The taintâs the only reason I can think why this stuff poisons dwarves, like that Bartrand fellow Rilien mentioned. If it was like any other lyrium, it wouldnât be able t' do that, âcept if it was raw, which that bit wasnât.â
Rilien nodded slightly, folding his arms into his sleeves and taking a step away from the work table. âI believe SennesĂaâs deductions to be correct. I as well have frequently worked with lyrium, and though my tranquility was never complete, I have only ever felt it barely. Not like this. It exudes physical heat, but also⊠there are mental effects, and they are not entirely unlike accounts of what occurs to Grey Wardens at the end of their lifespans, or those who are affected by the taint and become ghouls.â
Leon grit his teeth at the mention of Grey Wardens, but eased the tension in his jaw with conscious effort. âSo what does this mean? I thought the Blight only affected living things, not inanimate objects like stone.â Of course, lyrium wasnât always stone, he knew that. But it was either that or a powder, or a potable liquid, so the point remained the same. He eyed the piece on the table warily. He didnât feel any different, being in proximity to it, but then, he wasnât a mage, and heâd never taken lyriumâtemplars only received their first dose at the conclusion of their training, and heâd been moved into the Seekers before that happened.
âYou are correct.â Rilien stood a fraction more stiffly than usual, but a little bit of color was returning to him already.
âIt means lyriumâs a livinâ thing. Sort of.â SennesĂa looked unsure how to explain it, and shrugged again. âItâs somethinâ some people have always thought, though youâd have to ask someone who knows more about magic for the fancy details. But I know it sings, and if it sings, seems like it could be alive.â She exhaled a short, sharp sigh, scratching her cheek just beneath her eye.
âThe theoryâs really interestinâ, but probably not the most important part for you. What youâll want tâ know is that it could make a lot of people sick. Folks like me, with a bit of resistance, theyâll be okay fer a while, but not too long, if thereâs a lot of it. Youâve seen what it does tâ templars who drink the stuff.â She paused there, perhaps feeling little more needed to be said on that point. âIngestinâ even onceâd probably kill a mage, so youâll want t' keep that lot well away. Probably better if they donât even touch it. Normal tranquil are probably about as okay as us dwarves, considerinâ.â
She stopped there, though, and glanced at Rilien expectantly. He picked up easily on the cue and the thread of conversation both. âActually, Commander, I understand that you fought red templars with your hands at Therinfal. Did you at no point feel any ill effects?â
Leon moved a little further into the workshop, taking up a spot at the worktable, studying the red lyrium with some trepidation. He still didnât feel anything, really. âNo. I know I hit it directly a few times, too. Probably managed to inhale some dustâŠâ He trailed off, something from an earlier discussion coming back to him. âCaptain SĂ©verine said that Ophelia, another Seeker, had publicly consumed some as the templars did, but appeared to suffer no ill effects. And if the symptoms are as bad as weâve seen in others, I would have noticed when I met up with her. She didnât look or sound affected at all.â
He reached forward for the shard, picking it up in a gloved hand and turning it over. He would admit, the light it emitted seemed rather sinister-looking to him, but he felt nothing in particular. Putting it back down for a moment, he tugged his glove off and touched it directly. Still nothing, not even a mild hint of nausea, though it was indeed quite warm to his fingers. He didnât want to cut himself with it, of courseâeven he didnât want to risk something like that directly in his bloodstream if he could avoid it, but if Ophelia was anything to go by, even that might not do anything to him.
âI donât know,â he said at last. âMaybe Seekers are resistant for some reason.â
âHuh.â SennesĂa was looking at him curiously. âEven I wouldnât want to touch that with my bare hands.â She was, indeed, wearing thick-looking work gloves up to her elbows, and had apparently been making use of eye-protection as well, from the goggles perched on her head.
Rilienâs eyes narrowed slightly, but he gave no indication as to why. âIn any case, it is only a theory. We will have to study it further, and devise some way of storing it that cancels the effects completely.â
The mechanist nodded. âCold does somethinâ, I noticed, though it might not be a good somethinâ for us. If I keep it in a lead box like this, I canât hear the singinâ, so thatâs probably a good bet fer now.â With great care, she lifted the shard into the box in question and set it down, closing the heavy lid over the whole container. âWell, Iâm goinâ tâ go put this away. Fer the best, I think.â She looked apprehensively at Rilien, shaking her head. âYou get some rest now, Rilien. You donât look too great, if youâll forgive me sayinâ so.â
Leon had been about to offer to help with the box, but she seemed to have it well in-hand, and after she left, he gently closed the door behind her. Deciding that calling further attention to Rilienâs condition was unlikely to be of any help, he instead handed the tranquil the papers heâd originally come bearing. âScout reports. I thought youâd make better use of them than I can, at the moment.â He paused, trying to work up to the other reason he was here, the one that he found it much more difficult to discuss. He didnât find it easy to talk about, in general, particularly not to people he had to see on any kind of regular basis. Fortunately, Rilien wasnât really the sort of person who would bring it up or look at him differently simply because he knew, and so it was a little more bearable.
âThe, ah⊠potions youâre making for me. Have you been modifying the formula at all?â He didnât think Rilien would do something like that, but he felt he had to make sure, just in case. Whether or not he meant any harm, the tranquil was, to Leonâs estimation, the kind of person who often went for efficiency, and sometimes that meant changing things without bothering to tell anyone, as the Seeker himself knew from personal experience.
Rilien blinked at him, and if heâd been anyone else, the minute alteration in his expression might have qualified as offense. âI have not. Are they performing substandardly?â He crossed the room to the alchemy table heâd set up, this one now with a full standing kit, much larger than the portable version in the rookery above. From the shelf behind the table, he took down half a dozen glass vials, slotting them easily into the spaces between his fingers, and returned to the center of the room, holding them up to the light of the chandelier for inspectionâlikely Leonâs rather than his own.
And they did indeed look exactly the same as they always had, a blackened red rendered almost carbuncle in the light. Leon knew for a fact that theyâd tasted the same as well, dismissing one possible cause of his present predicament. âNo, no theyâve been rather the opposite, actually.â That was just the problem. Heâd suspected Rilien might have altered the formula explicitly because they seemed better than they usually were. âItâs just⊠the effects seem to be lingering longer, and⊠bleeding over, into situations where Iâd really prefer they didnât.â Heâd noticed an increased degree of irritability, for one, and he suspected something was making his physical symptoms worse as well. Headaches, muscle-spasms, and his persistent inability to get a good nightâs sleep may well all be connected.
âI donât suppose thereâs anything you could tell me about that?â
Rilien set the vials down on the nearest flat surface, clearly leaving them there for Leon to take, and spent a moment considering the question. âThe reagent is exceedingly rare.â He glanced down at one of the vials. âI had not had much experience brewing with it before you asked me to, and there is little alchemic literature on its properties and side effects. But I have encountered other texts, wherein others who have used it have described the long-term effects.â
There was another pause, this one a little longer. âYour progression down the list is accelerated. That is perhaps to be expectedâmost people in your position only require one dose at all. Your continued consumption is most likely to blame.â
Leon sighed deeply. That, of course, was the most obvious answer, though heâd been hoping for a different one, one he could do something about. Heâd always known this would have consequences. Ophelia had warned him of as much. His faith had bid him accept those consequences. And now⊠his position in the Inquisition demanded that he continue to do so, faith or no faith. He swallowed. It was quite one thing for those consequences to be some indeterminate number of years in the future. It was another altogether to be able to feel them beginning to take their toll.
âHow long, do you suppose?â He asked the question just as evenly as Rilien usually spoke, unwilling to expend any more on it than that.
âThat will depend on how often you imbibe it between now and then. If you continue at your recent rate, perhaps a year or two in total. If you slow down, it may take longer.â Rilienâs words were dispassionate, but he tilted his head faintly to one side. âIf you were to consult others with some relevant expertise, you may be able to extend that further. Seeing a healer about it regularly would not do harm. And I understand that the Imperium has many people who may know more than I do about blood magic.â They of course had both a healer and an Imperial mage among the Inquisitionâs irregulars.
Leonâs immediate instinct was to reject the suggestions. But⊠the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if it might not help to talk to Cyrus, at least, see if there was anything he might know about this kind of thing. The problem was, he didnât really understand all the pieces of it. He doubted even Ophelia did. She didnât have the same problem after all, despite being a Seeker herself. They both knew, though, that no healer could repair the damage done by their methods of combat, and considering just how sensitive and easily-distressed Asala was, not to mention her current state of being barely functional, he wasnât going to talk to her about his problem anytime soon.
âAs you say,â was what he ended up going with, and he inclined his head to Rilien, taking up the vials and depositing them in a pocket. âYouâve my thanks, for this much.â Heâd seldom met an alchemist willing to do the work for him, once they knew what it was for, what it would do. He didnât tell most of them, of course.
âI will continue to look into the matter.â Rilien returned the slight nod with one of his own. âIf there is an alchemical solution, I will find it.â His words contained no trace of uncertainty.
Leon smiled, the expression for once exactly as bitter as he felt, though the feeling wasnât directed at Rilien. Far from it. But he said nothing further, taking his leave from the workshop. There was no alchemical solutionâhe was quite sure there was no solution at all. Those had been the terms.
The strength he needed, his life in exchange.