"Sprouting red lyrium?" That's part of the story he'd not heard, and Anders tries to think back to when they'd met with Corypheus previously. No. There hadn't been the red lyrium, because he would have noticed. Would have recognized it as what got to Bartrand, and it would have stood out all the more when Meredith had revealed her weapon. It's new, then. Is there some sort of... He has no idea, and it's troubling.

It's almost as troubling as the prospect of going to the Dwarf for more information. Anders well-recalls how tired Varric had sounded after the Chantry had been destroyed, and they'd not exchanged words after that. He'd left, knowing he was unwelcome. Would seeing his face add insult to injury? Anders bets that it would, because he can't think of a reason for anyone to forgive him.

A half-moment later he realizes he's sitting here, frowning, and instead he nods. "Varric... Varric Tethras? The author? If he's time for people to ask questions, I'll see if I can't find out more. Not like I've more idea than anyone else as to how one deals with an ancient magister who can't manage to die after thousands of years."

But should it come as any real surprise that blood magic hadn't worked? Anders doesn't think so.

"What's happened in the months you've been here, if you don't mind my asking?"