Asunder by David Gaider

you'd think young mages dying was of no consequence. He tried to maintain his casual demeanor, keep the smile on his face, and not let this man get the better of him. It wasn't easy. "Not screaming like that they don't," he managed through gritted teeth.
                The Lord Seeker ignored him. "How did you hear about the others?"
                "We . . . knew initiates were being brought in, but then we wouldn't see them later as apprentices. The templars told us they'd been transferred to another Circle, but you can always tell when a templar's lying like that. There were too many questions and surprise searches. And then Jolen died."
                The man glanced over at the Knight- Captain. "The fourth one," she said with a nod.
                "Ah," he said. "Yes, I suppose it's unsurprising that the order here wouldn't be able to keep that quiet."
                "And why should you?" Rhys demanded, feeling his anger bubbling up despite his efforts to keep it under control. "If someone's going around killing mages, don't we have a right to know? The templars are supposed to be protecting us! Isn't that part of why we're locked up in here?"
                The Lord Seeker leveled an icy glare at him, and he regretted his outburst instantly. He didn't want to regret it— he wanted to keep on yelling, make these people see just how wrong it was to treat grown mages, mages with power, like they were recalcitrant children. In the face of that look, he knew it didn't matter. He was a good judge of character. Given an excuse, this man would slit Rhys's throat before he even got off a single spell. And he would do it with the same cool, unblinking demeanor that he had now.
                The Lord Seeker frowned, drumming his fingers on the desk as if deciding just what sort of response was required. "Protecting you is part of the reason you're in the tower, yes." His tone was suddenly pleasant, which somehow made it all the more frightening. "The other part, of course, is that magic is dangerous. It can be dangerous through no intention of the mage, should a demon take hold of them, but not all mages have good intentions, do they?"
                The question was ominous, and not entirely without merit.
                "Do you know a man by the name of Enchanter Jeannot?" the man asked.
                "Yes, of course. He's a senior enchanter here, as am I."
                "Was, I'm afraid. Last night he attempted to assassinate the Divine, in front of many witnesses, and was slain." The man watched carefully as he allowed that news to sink in.
                Rhys felt cold, as if discovering he was walking on far thinner ice than he'd realized. There was more going on here than just the murders, much more. Jeannot tried to murder the head of the Chantry? How would he even get out of the tower? To do so without help seemed . . . unlikely. Suddenly it made sense why the Knight- Commander was gone, why the First Enchanter acted as he had. "I . . . I see" was all he could manage.
                "He used blood magic during the attempt," the Lord Seeker continued. "Were you aware that Jeannot knew such forbidden arts?"
                "No, not at all."
                "Interesting." The drumming fingers continued, the only sound in the room. Rhys felt a bead of sweat slowly crawling its way down his forehead. It was impossible to keep an entire tower of mages under complete control, not without locking all of them in cells like prisoners. The templars knew that mages snuck around behind their backs and gossiped, and it wasn't unreasonable to think they shared other types of knowledge as well. Where there was one blood mage, there could be more. There could be dozens.
                They think I know. Or that I am one.
                "There have been six murders in the White Spire to