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Iyandrar was starting to feel a headache coming. “Remember, you have to remember,” he muttered to himself.
“Problem, Amatus?”
Iyandrar looked up. Dorian was standing in front of him, across from the desk, a pile of books balanced on his forearm. Iyandrar leaned forward, arms crossed on the table, and closed his eyes. “There was this mosaic, in the temple we found last week. I know it has something to do with Sylaise, the Heartkeeper, but I can’t remember what tale it’s linked to.” He let his head fall heavily onto his crossed arms.
“Couldn’t you find it in a book?” Dorian asked above him. “The Skyhold library is rather well-stocked.”
Iyandrar shook his head, forehead rubbing against the fabric of his sleeves. “I can’t. It’s all oral history, it’s never written down, just passed from clans to clans.”
“I see. Shouldn’t you ask for a courier, then? Send a message to your clan, and ask for their opinion?”
Iyandrar whined, high-pitched and long and far too dramatic. “Dontwanna.” he added at the end.
“Pardon?”
Iyandrar raised from his arms and threw his weight back so that his butt was barely resting on the chair, back curved. He looked up at Dorian. “I don’t want to. I’ll do it,” he added when Dorian frowned, “but I’m going to hate every second of it.”
Dorian raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were in good terms with your clan.” He adjusted the books on his arm with his free hand.
Iyandrar waved dismissively. “Meh, more like I’m not in bad terms.”
“In that case, why wouldn’t you want to contact them?”
Iyandrar grimaced. “Because the Keeper always said that I should pay more attention to her tales, and I always responded that I knew them all perfectly?”
Dorian laughed brightly, head thrown back. The book at the top of his pile slipped and he only caught it at the last moment by the tip of his fingers.
Iyandrar snorted. “Oh, don’t lecture me on pride, Serah Better Than All Of You.”
Dorian blinked, squinted, and finally smiled easily. “I’ll allow it.”