He is not the best hunter from clan Lavellan, but they have other reasons to send him away.
Mahanon was never built to be a warrior. His parents didn't find this concerning until it became clear he couldn't shoot an arrow accurately to stop the Blight either. Nenni, his mother, insisted that he go through knife exercises every day until he was sure his arms would fall off.
"Do you want everyone to think your father and I raised a lazy child?" she would ask when he faltered, "Somebody who feasts on ram brought by good sons while our clan struggles to survive? No? Then keep going."
He got better eventually, thank the Creators. When they're near enough to the ocean he prefers fishing, and prides himself on being able to keep pace with raiders of Hercinia. But while they're edging past the Tirashan or crossing the Silent Plains, it's his responsibility to help bring down larger, slower game. He knows how to exploit weakness in gurn hide, which angle to attack a bear and when to leap back, how to skin a varghest.
The first man he killed was a bandit, thin in patchy clothes with rotten teeth. Just one of a larger band of thieves with battle whirling around him, Mahanon's own response was almost automatic. It didn't seem so different at first from practice, dull blades and familiar gestures. His success was exhilarating, even fun. But when the dagger plunged into that small, tight stomach there wasn't even a scream. Wide eyes, slack mouth. A sound like breath or something more vital escaping.
He should have slit the man's throat to make it faster, but Mahanon's hands were hot and slick and he kept wondering if this was somebody's father, somebody's friend. Shrunken gums, brown-black grin. It must have hurt.
He'd been sixteen at the time.
Junlen, three years the older brother who favored longswords and shields over more intimate weapons, tried but couldn't understand.
"It was necessary," he said, broad where Mahanon was narrow, strong where he faltered, certain when everything else seemed lost. "They would have killed you, or Shiya, or Gemen. They would have picked your corpses clean and that's how we would have found you. Can you imagine mother and father?" Mahanon could only shake his head. The sound was still in his ears.
Keeper Istimaethoriel invited him to walk with her, so he did. The curves and ticks of her vallaslin mark her for Dirthamen the scholar, the Silent One, the twin. Her hair had long since gone white and veins etched delicately across the backs of her hands.
"You are Mythal's with good reason, da'len," she told him quietly. "You see everyone. There will never be a day when death comes easy to you. This is a good thing." She paused, eyes flitting aside so he couldn't see the moon caught in them. "My First… Ellana struggles. She should learn."
Ellana was graceful as a doe but no child of Ghilan'nain she. Her mother dreamed of Falon'Din standing beside the cradle when her daughter was very young. She said he bent to kiss her brow and that it was a gentle gesture. A kind gesture.
Ellana's eyes were the last blue left before black. To Mahanon, they always seemed cold.
He had no answer for his Keeper. After a time, she continued. "We cannot live on the outskirts forever. Please. Be our emissary among the settlements. We know you watch the humans whenever we draw near. This is my blessing. Study them. See if there are ways we can make peace."
There is no Dalish word for what he was, no standard position. Nonetheless, it was a role he embraced.
He introduces himself as a scout, a negotiator. He gets permission to sell wares on city streets and in alienages across Thedas.
At twenty-six, Mahanon the spy is sent to watch the conclave. He kisses his parents, embraces his brother. Tweaks his niece Mihri's nose and promises spices for her mother when he returns. The First, he offers a theatrical bow with his word to bring back something uselessly Orlesian. Ellana smiles and even blushes as she looks away.
The Keeper remains solemn when she tells him to be safe. Mahanon laughs, barking like a wolf confident in his tricks, and assures her they will never catch him.