Chapter Text
It was a long, miserable journey. Solas sorely lacked for company, something he thought he had grown accustomed to. Master Tethras, in his own way, tried to keep Solas company, as chafed by Cassandra’s presence as Solas was by the Inquisitor’s. But, more often than not, Solas found himself riding in solitary silence.
Cole flitted from place to place, the way he did. The spirit could not be convinced to ride on a horse, but never seemed to have any difficulty keeping up. Solas wanted to catch him alone, to ask him a few more delicate questions about his new “friend,” an elven woman who had recently stumbled into Skyhold. Time, however, had not permitted it. The Inquisitor rode them hard. His determination to save his men spoke well of him, but little else did. Including his first encounter with that very elven lass.
Emma herself was something of an enigma, and lacking any other sufficient stimulation, he found himself dwelling on her. To hear her tell the tale, she was an escaped slave turned linguist, but there were too many gaps in her past, too many differences between the skills she possessed and the life she claimed to have lived. More than once, Solas had checked her for magic, first out of idle curiosity, an instinct, but then out of puzzlement. But no matter how many ways he examined her, she held no trace of mana.
She was also fluent in two ancient languages, including Elven, had at least approximate knowledge on many different subjects, and thought more about the world around her than she let on. She carried a dagger, as well, hidden expertly in the small of her back. Nothing about her added up. She had reacted to Cole’s presence with a curiosity that burned so brightly that, for an instant, he could have sworn he was looking at a younger version of himself.
The Inquisitor shouted something from where he rode, at the front of the progression, jarring Solas momentarily out of his thoughts, bringing him back to irritation. He wasn’t pleased to have been called out of Skyhold, and for little more than magical support. He had more interesting things to be doing than throwing barriers around reckless warriors. The addition of the Inquisitor to his thoughts when he had been contemplating Emma reminded him of the crassness with which the man had treated her. For all his talk to treating the elves as equals, the Inquisitor had seized upon the young elf as little more than a weapon with which to harass Solas.
The bluntness with which she had embarrassed the Inquisitor both amused him and left him curious. She was clearly flighty, easily intimidated. But when she became annoyed, it seemed she forgot to whom she spoke, be it himself, a Qunari twice her size, or a man who now commanded one of the larger military forces in Thedas. He had overheard her spat with the man, outside the rotunda door. Her response to the Inquisitor’s brash accusations had been well thought-out, the words of someone who had experience manipulating those above her. Then, she ruined it almost entirely with a barbed jab, as if her temper got the better of her.
It was unlikely she acted simply because she did not care what the man thought; she had previously expressed concern at those of high rank or noble birth paying her any mind at all. Antagonizing the Inquisitor was hardly a swift path to blending in. For all his anger at the Inquisitor’s callowness, it seemed as though she had been just as infuriated, perhaps more so.
He mused over this and other out of the ordinary things about the woman as the party rode on. It wasn’t until they reached the Fallow Mire and made camp that Solas got a chance to speak to Cole alone. He pulled the spirit aside while the others were eating. Although their companions could rarely understand Cole’s meaning, there was no use taking unnecessary risks.
“Cole,” Solas said cautiously once he was certain no one was within ear shot. “What do you think of our young friend, Emma?”
Cole said nothing, only stared blankly at Solas. The older man frowned. “Cole?” Another stretch of silence. “Cole, why aren’t you speaking?”
“Emma made me promise not to talk to you about her,” he responded promptly.
Solas’ eyes narrowed. “Really.” He ran a hand across his chin. Now this was interesting. When? Perhaps when she had taken the spirit with her to fetch dinner? He had already begun to believe the woman intelligent, but it seemed she was crafty as well. He thought back about what Cole had said before, something that could have alarmed her enough to ensure the spirit’s silence…
The first thing Cole had said was a rather tasteless reference to what the girl was likely thinking at the time… embarrassing, surely, but enough to swear a spirit to silence? How had she even managed to convince Cole to keep quiet? As Solas well knew, it was a difficult task.
A marionette with strings of sorrow. Terrified, trapped in a body that moves on its own; how could you do this to me?
Hm.
“Cole, did you promise not to speak to me about her, or to anyone?”
“To you,” the boy replied, hesitantly, clearly unsure if this counted as talking about Emma or not.
Hmm.
“Very well, Cole,” Solas said. “I won’t upset you with it further. I trust that you had a good reason for your decision.” Cole just nodded and walked away, quickly. Solas was beyond paying attention, already deep in thought.