"I am a soldier baby, who works just like a slave,

Sweating through the pain of digging this foxhole that he knows is just a grave,

You trust me, don't you baby?

Yeah you'd hand you're life to me,

Let's walk along the wire and watch the muzzles flash like lightning."

-Astronautalis, The Wondersmith and his sons

Sleep had never been kind to Zevran Arainai at the best of times. Nights on feather beds had gone by without him drifting off, so how he'd expected it to happen on the flea ridden bunk with the snoring oarsman above, he'd never know. Resolving that it was better to be up than left alone with his mind in the dark, he arose. The superb drakeskin armour his Warden had given him had become like a second skin, his quick fingers found the straps and hooks even in the complete blackness. He crept past the sleeping bodies of the twenty or so rivermen who had been too unlucky to draw a bunk. The close quarters of so many drunken men had made the room reek of wine and piss. Ascending through the creaky wooden hatch and into the cool fresh air of the Sesia was a relief.

The Antivan Whore was a whippy cutter of a riverboat but the poor winds had meant that the voyage had mostly been undertaken with man-power. This had slowed the crew's progress to a painstaking crawl and Zevran found the monotony beginning to wear his patience. Nearly a month he had spent on the boat already and though he had Captain Kalliste's assurance that they were no more than a day away from the town of Seleny, he had his doubts. The time had gone so slowly and the lack of occupation was putting him on edge. Kalliste had warned him that the journey may not be safe, that these shores were plagued with pirates and slavers who would plunder any weaker looking vessel. Zevran was at the point where he longed to plunge his dagger into the heart of some foolish scavenger, anything to quell the boredom, but alas the boat had remained quietly unmolested and Zevran had remained tense.

The night was silent and undisturbed. The cool winds coming off Rialto Bay that had propelled them forward for several days had ceased weeks ago leaving the evenings with an eerie stillness, punctuated only by the lapping of water against the boat. The sailors had fallen into a drunken slumber hours before, so there was not even their rabble to break the endless silence. Only Kalliste's personal guardsman, Ilum Stray, kept the night watch. He was the most unlikely to break the peaceful pre dawn as any of the sailors, what with his lack of tongue. The man gave Zevran a thoroughly distrustful look and then continued to doze by the torchlight. The assassin stalked wordlessly passed him to the bow of the boat.

In the daylight you could see for miles in all directions, though why you would want to see endless uninhabited swampland was beyond him. Along the way there had been very little to break up the brown and green save for the occasional flooded settlement. The ancient stones of the ruins had long been infiltrated with the pines that grew along the banks this close to the Sesia's source. The stars were particularly bright in the way they only seem to be in autumn. He had spent many a night on the bow, tracing and naming the constellations that his Warden had taught him under the Ferelden skies. Here in Antiva, of course, they were slightly different but they still made Zevran feel at ease. Elaria had once told him that a Tevinter mage, whose name escaped him, had hypothesized that every star in that cavernous vastness was another of the Makers worlds. To say that this one, beautiful as it was, was only one of thousands, perhaps millions, was a heresy the Chantry could not abide. He had burned alive for his dangerous ideas, but Zevran felt that there was something very fitting in his theory.

The assassin found his mind wondering down many familiar paths that always ended in the same destination; Elaria. Just the thought of her name brought a queasy unsure feeling in pit of his stomach. He had done her a great ill leaving Denerim the way he had, an incessant and possessive night of passion, then gone, before she had a chance to wake. She deserved so much better than that he thought. Zevran would not liked to have been present when she'd awoke to found him gone, the mage had a terrible temper that even the bravest of their companions had quailed in the face of. She probably made mincemeat of poor Alistair. Though in truth he doubted whether the Templar had the courage to confess the part he'd played in Zevran's disappearance. He had sent a letter when he reached Antiva, through Isabela who was loading up with Antivian Wine and heading back to Denerim to make a tidy profit. He had no way of knowing if his Warden had even gotten it and he certainly had received no reply. The sound of footsteps behind him made his sword hand twitch but he soon recognised the light steps of the ships elven captain.

"You'd sleep much better in my cabin, Zev."

He smiled as he turned to face the lithe elven beauty. The distinctive tight-fitting blue armour of Isabela's widespread crew accentuated the curves of Kalliste's toned body. He thought that it would be a difficult task to stay faithful to his Warden being in the company of such women as the one in front of him. Though his elven mage had extracted no such oath from him and he knew she would never have even dreamed of doing so. When it came to it he found himself unexcited by the prospect of bedding anyone who was not Elaria. Still, there was no harm in playing the game. The Captain was helping him a great deal after all.

"You are a wicked temptress."

"Then why not give into temptation," her accent was just as Antivian as his though she had the lilt that her early days with the Dalish had given her. She came close enough to touch the breastplate of his armour and left her hand on his chest. Putting a mask of tense fright onto his face he grasped her hand in his own.

"I fear for what the Warden would do to us if she found out. She's such a cruel mistress." Kalliste scoffed letting go of his hand, a look of disdain crossing her face.

"I see right through you Arainai," she smiled as she stood next to him looking out into the darkness. "She must be quite the woman to worm her way into that stone heart of yours."

"Ah, you wound me with you perceptiveness my lovely Captain," he turned to face the vast night before them himself. She was indeed lovely, especially when the torchlight caught her hungry sapphire eyes just so.

"You don't really talk about her much; most men I know wouldn't shut up if they'd fucked the Hero of Ferelden."

"I can assure you I am not like most men."

"See there you go again, deflecting." She had a playful tone in her voice but Zevran knew that he was treading a thin wire, he liked the woman well enough but trusting her was another matter entirely. Trust was always another matter entirely for Zevran. He feigned an exasperated sigh.

"I can see that there will be no easy way of dispensing with your questioning. What do you wish to know?"

"If you loved her so much then why are you here?" It was not the question he had expected. Most people wanted to know about her; what was she really like? Was she really a blood mage? How exactly did she kill the archdemon? Did she use a sword?... Magic? Is it true that she wore heavy armour and wielded a sword like a warrior? Was it true that the King was in love with her? That she was carrying his bastard child? He'd rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth through the senseless gossip mongering that the Antivian whores loved so much.

"That is not such an easy question." The truth of it was that Zevran knew his peace in Denerim could only last so long. Soon the Crows would hear the rumours that freely circulated the Ferelden court of the then Royal Advisor and her Antivan lover. It would only be a matter of time before they put the puzzle together and realised he was alive and then what? A murder of crows would sweep down on the Royal Palace. Zevran was adamant that it would not play out like that. Better to take the fight to the Crows than wait for them to descend when we least expect it. Alistair had provided the final push when he'd privately told Zevran that when Elaria went to Amaranthine it would be 'unseemly for her to take her lover.' The assassin had laughed at that until he'd seen the deadly seriousness in the King's eyes. The Divine of Orlais had written Alistair a stern letter condemning his appointment of the lands of Amaranthine to the Grey Wardens, and thus to a mage. There had been a passage that Alistair had even shown Zevran. Apparently the gossip of the two elves' 'debauchery in the eyes of the Maker,' had reached even the lofty, frail ears of the Divine Beatrix III. Zevran had only to read the line 'make her a suitable marriage or part them. This is the will of the Maker,' to know that his peace in Denerim was fully ruptured.

"We both had things to do. I do intend to go back for her, if, of course, we don't all perish."

This seemed enough to satisfy her curiosity, at least for now. Zevran sneaked a glimpse at his companion and couldn't help but notice that he had an excellent view down the Captain's armour. She was unusually voluptuous for an elf, especially with such a delicate frame. Zevran's hand automatically went to his right ear, fondling the replica earring that his Warden had given him a match for the one he had given her. The representation of his unuttered promise. He had found his hand seeking it out during every one of his temptations, reminding him of the woman he'd left behind.

"Doesn't stop you from looking I see," she grinned seductively and Zevran sighed.

"A man may have a favourite painting but does that mean other great artworks cannot catch his eye? No?" Her laugh was as perfumed and light as her hair as it broke the complete stillness of the night. "So it seems I have given you a truth, yes? And what will you give me in turn? Truth seems to demand truth."

"And what truth would you have of me, Zevran?"

"When I told Isabela the nature of my quest she was very quick to give your name. Why? What do you get out of this?"

Kalliste raised a perfect eyebrow. "I owe Isabela my life; any friend of hers is a friend of mine."

"Not exactly a lie but not the whole truth either, you are very cunning my dear. Come now, say, I think there must be more to it than that."

It was Kalliste's turn to sigh, her lips tightened and her face seemed to withdraw. In this light Zevran could not see the silvery scar that traced its way down her right cheekbone, but he knew when she pouted thus, it exaggerated itself.

"I'm doing it for Rinna."

Zevran had ceased being surprised by anything but this revelation certainly required an explanation. He had learned long ago that keeping silent was the best way to yield answers and he had always been rewarded.

"She was Dalish. Did she never tell you that?"

Zevran's words caught in his mouth and made him grit his teeth. He shook his head.

"We grew up together," she continued, "With a Dalish tribe, the Faedirnen, wondering the Green Dales just south of here." Her eyes glistened with tears and fixed to a point, as though she could still see it all in the slowly lightening sky. "It seems so long ago. I swear it's been twenty years. I don't remember much of life there, other than Rinna; we were so young when the slavers came." It was a story that Zevran knew well. Slave owners from all over Thedas would pay a high price for a Dalish child. This resulted in the slavers of Tevinter and Antiva tracking and hunting the nomadic elves like game. The compliant were captured. The violent, killed. "We we're lucky enough to be sold as a pair. Virgin Dalish girls go for a pretty high price in Antiva, or so I am told." She was silent for a while and Zevran could not help himself, Rinna had always told him she remembered nothing of her childhood.

"What happened?"

Kalliste inhaled then exhaled deeply. "We were sold to the Pleasure House of Antiva to be trained in the seven sighs. They start educating as young as possible so that they can boast the best whores in Thedas."

"How old were you both?"

"I was seven, she was nine." Zevran made a disgusted face and she laughed.

"They don't make you know a man until you're thirteen. Our maidenheads were to go to the highest bidder, though not many can afford a virgin trained in the seven sighs." She gave Zevran a smile dripping with sexual intent which, if he has been feeling less anxious, would have certainly made his hand go to his right ear. "Rinna was extremely unhappy about this arrangement; she was always so wilful and untameable, in their words. When her virginity was brought by a fat and foul smelling merchant prince she was furious." Her grin turned deadly. "She got her own back though."

"How so?"

"She bit off his cock." Zevran's eyes widened as Kalliste laughed heartily. The tears that had collected with sadness in her eyes ran freely down her cheeks with joy. "You should have seen the First Madam's face; none of her slave girls had ever shown the slightest disobedience before and now this. Finally they resolved that she had to be sold to The Crows and from what I understand they were delighted to have her." Another sigh escaped her lips. "After that, I know everything that happened Zevran. I know you were her lover. I know how she joined your team on regular basis. I know about you being fed false information that resulted in her death. I want to find out who did it just as much as you do." Her voice had gone cold and hard. The sky above them had brightened as they had spoke, sweeps of extraordinary colours began to fill it, hot reds danced with the cool blue of the lightening sky and purples entwined and contrasted themselves with dazzling golden yellows. The river mirrored and refracted the intense colours of this glorious sunrise. They stood in silence as the world became visible around them. Zevran put his hand on her shoulder.

"We shall kill them all, my dear. Do not worry."