This far from any land, the sea is calm, with just a gentle roll as the water moves. As far as the eye can see, there is glistening blue, uninterrupted by any sign of a shore.
High above, the sun beats down from a cloudless sky.
It is peaceful.
“Magic-user prison. Religiously enforced, and I mean religious. Any one living outside the Circle was an apostate, an illegal mage.”
Anders pushes something on the desk slightly to the left. “I was sent there as a child, once my magic manifested. Then I spent the next twenty years trying to get out.”
Anders summons a flame to his hand, and remembers the night he set his father’s barn on fire.
“A gift from the Maker. Can’t be learned.”
She reaches out to squeeze his wrist. "Then penalising you for it was wrong. Complete bullshit."
"Hard to get people to listen to that when there's a hateful rhetoric ingrained into society."
"I had a plan to make them listen. Wasn't a particularly long-sighted plan, I'll admit, but every revolution starts somewhere."
He doesn't really believe that, but he believes in Tana.
"You said something about lunch?"
"I did! With any luck, Deke's cooked."
And she'll lead the way up towards the ward room.
"As they are the definitions I've grown fondest too, I guess I'll keep them."
Anders smiles knowingly at Circe.
He lets the eye contact linger for a moment, and then turns back to Deke. "Hawke would often drag me out on expeditions into the mountains she claimed would be simple, and then promptly we'd stumble over a nest of slavers, or pirates, or Tal-Vashoth."
"Ah, there is a difference. I will admit we rather go looking for the trouble some of the time. A pirate's life and all that..."
"I cannot blame you for that. One of my closest friends was a pirate, not that I fault her for that."