Naia felt a headache begin to mount between her eyes as she read through yet another case file. Petty vandalism, again. An alienage teenager, again. She tried hard not to feel like a hypocrite but did not succeed. She had once been a teenage burglar herself, after all.

"Maker, Donnic. How many of these are there?" she groaned.

"Too many." Donnic sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "It's like trying to bail out the ocean with a teaspoon, I know. But I keep thinking there has to be a pattern. Why? Why so many? Why in the alienage? Why always elves doing it?"

Naia's headache grew stronger. Oh joy. Time for another installment of Naia Explains the Alienage to Shems.

"They're bored, they're angry, and they don't see the point in keeping things nice," she said succinctly. "You're not going to see this kind of thing go away until elves feel like they have some opportunities in Denerim, Donnic. Besides waiting tables and going to jail, I mean."

Donnic's shoulders slumped. "So, until every systematic problem in our city is solved, is there anything we can do to stop this sort of thing?"

"Someplace for kids to hang out?" Naia suggested. "A rec center, with games and supervision. My cousin Shianni might have some ideas. But that would be a Council project, not a Guard project." And that, in a nutshell, was their task force's problem. Too many issues that couldn't be solved by a Guardsman, even a really good one like Detective Donnic Hendyr. Nothing they could do would bring those teenagers' parents home earlier from their work-to-the-bone jobs, or make the teenagers themselves think there was much point to having a clean juvenile record.

"I'll take the files home and ask around about the names," she told him. "Maybe there's a social link, a ringleader. If I can't talk some sense into them maybe I can find someone who will."

Donnic brightened just a bit. "That might just help. And in the meantime, I'll talk to the Guard-Captain about getting some other proposals in front of the Council. Maybe we can get them to think about something besides mages for five consecutive minutes." He shook his head.

As Naia packed up the files she wanted, she spotted Donnic staring at a little wooden box on his desk. "What's on your mind?"

Donnic chuckled. "Am I that transparent? This has been the oddest day."

"How so?" Naia asked curiously.

"I found this on my desk this morning." Donnic handed her the box.

Naia rested it on her palm lifted the hinged lid. Inside sat a little copper square etched with a cheerful floral design. "Metal flowers?"

"A copper relief of marigolds, to be precise." Donnic's forehead wrinkled. "I have no idea who left it here. There was a bow on it, but no tag. In a fit of panic I actually took it to the crime lab for tests. It came back negative for explosives and common poisons."

"Good to know." Naia closed the box and set it back on her friend's desk. "Offhand? I think you have an admirer, Donnic."

Donnic's jaw dropped. "A … a romantic admirer?"

"No, the other kind of admirer," Naia teased. "Do marigolds have a meaning to you?"

Donnic shook his head.

"Then they must mean something to your admirer. Want me to ask around?"

Donnic paled. "Oh—no. If it's … that … I don't want to cause anyone distress or make any wrong assumptions. Perhaps it was a mistake," he said hopefully. "A gift placed on the wrong desk."

Naia didn't really think so. As the newest detective in the Guard, Donnic had an unenviable desk at the very back of the room, next to an occasionally leaky air-conditioning vent. No one sat in the desk next to his. It was an unlikely mistake. She could tell that Donnic was reaching the same conclusion as he swept his gaze around the other detectives' desks.

"Would it be such a bad thing if it came from someone who wanted to date you?" she asked, surprised. Kind, dependable Donnic seemed like prime boyfriend material to her—not her type personally, but someone she'd be thrilled to see a friend bring home.

Donnic drew in a deep breath. "I am, ah, interested in someone," he mumbled. "I—but she's not the type to be this coy, leaving an anonymous gift. And she'd never—it's not someone I can ask out on a date."

"It's not Juliet, is it?" Naia said, alarmed. Please don't be Juliet. I do not want to deal with Fenris finding out his co-worker has the hots for his girlfriend.

Donnic looked at her as if her head had fallen off. "Maker, no! I mean—Hawke's great. A good friend. But that's it."

Naia sighed in relief. "Well, that's good, at least." She looked at him seriously. "You're a catch, Donnic. You should ask her, whoever she is."

Donnic chuckled. "Easy enough for you to say. It's not always as simple as asking someone for a drink." He clapped her on the shoulder. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Sounds good."

As Naia wove her way through the maze of desks in the detectives' office, she spotted a familiar silver head bent over his work—Fenris. She raised a hand in greeting as she approached, but he did not seem to see her. His bright eyes were solidly fixed on a stack of papers in front of him.

"Fenris?"

He looked over at her and blinked, startled. "Ah. Hello."

Naia desperately wanted to look over his shoulder to see what had him so transfixed, but she'd quickly learned that Fenris found that intrusive, so she kept a step or two away. "Everything OK?"

His mouth quirked. "No, nothing is amiss, unless you count this afternoon's bank robbery. I am waiting for a Templar agent to come and take our case files."

"Meredith's gonna love that," Naia said with a sigh. "Sorry your date with Hawke got interrupted."

"One of these days I will have to ask you how you know the ins and outs of everyone's schedule. And why," Fenris remarked, amused.

"Don't worry. I only keep tabs on my closest friends and the clients who don't pay their bills," Naia told him with a wink. "Drop by our office for lunch tomorrow?"

Fenris smiled. "I look forward to it."


The Templars occasionally let local law enforcement handle cases involving magic when the crime was small, or when the mage in question seemed to pose only a minimal danger. Max quietly hoped that this would be one of those cases. Unfortunately, Guardswoman Harding was no more than halfway through her account of the robbery when he reached an unpleasant conclusion: not only was this a Templar case, but he'd have to take it on himself. The Denerim Circle was still in disarray from the crisis; many of their Templars were recent transfers to the city. Sending a newcomer to investigate a flashy magical crime would only add fuel to Meredith Stannard's fire. Yesterday he might have suggested that Cullen handle it, but … well.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he said, trying to hide his weariness.

"Detective Fenris Leto was assigned to the case. I'll let him know to expect you." An efficient little click ended the call.

Max wasn't sure what kind of reception to expect at the Denerim Guard. He liked Detective Leto—well, maybe liked was a little strong, but he respected the other man. Even so, he wished that he was taking the case from someone else. Councilwoman Stannard was already calling for the head of every Templar who hadn't somehow prevented the Circle disaster. Poaching from her favorite detective was unlikely to put her in a better mood.

But the Detective showed no signs of anger when Max appeared at his desk. He merely nodded and motioned for him to take a seat. "Agent Trevelyan. Or—pardon me. Knight-Captain Trevelyan. It is good to see you again."

"Likewise, Detective." Max sat; his eyes quickly fell to a photograph of a melted bank teller's window. "Yikes. This was not a subtle job."

"That's putting it mildly." Fenris began paging through the photographs. "Witnesses say there were three robbers, all mages. The most likely combination is two humans—one woman, one man—and one female elf. They used fire to frighten the customers and employees into submission. For their pains, they gained an unknown quantity of money from the registers. The bank promised amounts and serial numbers by tomorrow morning."

Max frowned. "Anyone check the vault? Or the safety deposit boxes?"

"Both rooms are undisturbed." Fenris's green eyes narrowed. "All told, the robbery appears rather second-rate."

"Well, I suppose we can't all be criminal masterminds," Max joked. "Thanks for this, Detective. We'll do our best to get them off the streets."

But as Max thumbed through Leto's case files, he couldn't help worrying about his chances of doing that. Amateurs or not, the team had gotten in and out quickly, hadn't used distinctive magic, and didn't show their faces. Finding the culprits in Denerim's apostate scene would be like finding three needles in a haystack. A scattered haystack.

But with Stannard breathing down our necks, we've got to do it anyway.

He closed the files with a snap and put them in his briefcase.


The morning after the First Denerim robbery Zevran awoke early again, thanks to the malfunctioning pipes that some sadist of an architect had seen fit to run right through the wall of his motel room. He groaned quietly when he saw the clock, and again when he remembered that this particular noise usually meant the hot water was broken. Sure enough, when he went to the bathroom to wash his face, the hot water taps poured ice-cold.

At least it is not winter any more, he thought almost cheerfully. And it is my own fault for not seeking other housing. The motel had simply been easy. No name required, cash only, and cheaper than most apartments—exactly the kind of place he had so often stayed while on assignment for the Crows. But perhaps a more permanent residence, with reliable hot water, was not an unreasonable step.

Unless the Crows come for me and I am obliged to leave.

That thought tempered Zev's good mood somewhat. Thus far Denerim have proven an excellent place to hide, but his former guild were nothing if not persistent. Someone who went missing on assignment would be tracked until the Crows either found a corpse or made one. Someday, he knew, there would have to be a reckoning. He would have to pay the price for leaving.

Perhaps he should have moved on, gone further away. But at least in Denerim he had allies who could help him hide and watch his back.

To shake off the chill from his icy shower, Zevran picked up four cups of coffee on the way in to Tabris Investigations. He expected to be the first into the office—but to his surprise, cheerful music was already blasting through the rooms when he unlocked the door.

Naia was in her office with Dog, working her way through a series of stretches. She had clearly been out running; her shirt was damp with sweat and her skin glowed appealingly in the morning light. As Zevran approached, she stepped into a deep lunge and raised her right arm high, stretching her side long and pulling her shirt up just enough to reveal a thin strip of skin.

Zevran briefly imagined himself kneeling before her, lifting the shirt a little higher and brushing his lips against that skin. He pushed the thought away firmly. The fact that he was having those sorts of thoughts about Naia was hardly strange; she was an attractive woman, energetic and passionate and funny. But lately, he had noticed that he wasn't having those sorts of thoughts about anyone besides Naia. And that was unusual, and more than a little unsettling.

From his spot in front of the water bowl, Dog raised his head to consider Zevran. Zev decided to say something before the mabari barked and gave him away. "Good morning," he called over the beat of the music.

Naia turned to smile at him. "Morning, Zev." She hit a button on her desk radio, abruptly cutting out the soundtrack. "You're in early."

"I could say the same of you. I thought you took your run in the afternoon."

"Usually, yeah. But I woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep." Naia sighed and began stretching out her left side. "You see the headlines this morning?"

"Ah yes. The First Denerim robbery. I must admit that my professional pride is offended by such a clumsy crime," Zevran said. "Coffee?"

Naia's eyes lit. "Maker, yes."

Zevran handed her the one with three sugars and the most milk. She grinned appreciatively at the first sip. But the grin faded quickly. "Well, in less newsworthy crimes, there's been a rash of vandalism in the alienage. Donnic is trying to be sensible about it, but if it doesn't stop there are going to be a bunch of kids with fresh new criminal records."

Zevran felt his eyebrows knit together, though more out of puzzlement than worry. He was not surprised that Naia had taken on such troubles as her own, but he also didn't quite understand it. Even after knowing her for several months he was still baffled by the way Naia Tabris flung herself into fixing every problem that came her way. The towering stack of files on her desk and the late nights she'd been pulling as a Guard consultant were only two of the symptoms of that compulsion. Zevran knew that he himself was a beneficiary of her determination to help everyone she met, though he hoped that he had now moved from burden to useful ally.

He didn't like the idea of her losing sleep.

"Well. Should you need advice on, ah, discreetly eliminating anyone involved, I would be happy to provide consulting services on top of my usual employment, for a very reasonable fee." He winked at her. "I always offer my best rates to beautiful, deadly women."

Naia rolled her eyes at him playfully. "I don't think this is quite an assassination-worthy problem. But thanks."


Mei had two non-consecutive days off from her job at the coffee shop, neither of them on a weekend. This schedule suited her just fine. After living in the Circle for most of her life, wearing the same outfit and seeing the same people day in and day out, she found the bustle and chaos of Denerim both exhilarating and terrifying. Doing her grocery shopping and city exploration on weekdays, when fewer people clogged the streets, made everything feel more manageable.

Circle mages were kept to strict schedules, and Mei still found it difficult to sleep past the Circle's official wakeup time on her days off. But she had grown to love her mornings anyway. Being able to walk around her small studio apartment in pajamas, drinking her tea and reading whatever she pleased, felt like a glorious luxury every time.

When her breakfast was finished, Mei washed her face and shrugged on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, then laced up a battered pair of secondhand sneakers. After casting the arcane warrior spell twice more—setting a new record at thirty-nine seconds—she set out.

An hour later, Mei arrived at the door to Denerim Collectible Books. She noticed that her legs and lungs were not nearly as tired as they should have been, given her brisk pace on the nearly four-mile walk—which meant that the spell lent her physical endurance and not just raw strength, just as she'd hoped. She also noticed that she was extremely hungry. She tried to block out the smell of cooking meat coming from the Antivan restaurant across the street as she pushed open the door.

Denerim Collectible Books was a narrow brick structure sandwiched between a drugstore and a florist in a respectable but not affluent part of town. Mei had stumbled across the place on one of her walks through a new Denerim neighborhood—one fairly close to the Guard house that could charitably be described as "up and coming."

She had quickly intuited that the owner, a dwarf named Cadash, could not possibly sell enough old books and assorted artifacts to pay the rent, even in a modest location like this. The shop had to be a front—almost certainly for the Carta, the dwarven criminal organization responsible for the lyrium trade in the city. Mei had also spotted Cadash marking up documents in a way that suggested the shop performed forgeries on the side.

But all of that was well-hidden from the average customer. Denerim Collectible Books was a cheerful jumble of mismatched shelves, all crammed with books—some rare, some merely old. The artifacts were more carefully displayed behind glass and locks, with neat paper tags announcing the origin of each little statue and relic. Cadash, as always, was sitting behind the counter, a lens over one eye as they examined a book.

"Right on schedule," the dwarf said, motioning for her to approach without looking up.

Mei walked the length of the shop and pulled an envelope from her backpack. "It's all there." She'd had to dip a little bit into the money from Max this week, but she suspected that was far preferable to coming up short.

"Always is." Cadash looked up and removed the monocle. Mei didn't take offense when they opened the envelope and began to count anyway.

Mei never knew what the dwarf would look like when she opened the shop door. Sometimes Cadash dressed like a male dwarf, their dark hair spiked and their clothing neatly tailored. At other times, Cadash wore dresses and lipstick and soft, tousled hair. Today their look was elegantly androgynous—hair neatly slicked back, no makeup save for eyeliner, and a crisp button-down shirt in deep purple underneath a sleek black blazer.

Mei cast a critical eye down at her own clothing. She'd put on the grey sweatpants she'd been given when she left the Circle and a baggy black t-shirt, topping off the ensemble (if you could call it that) with a faded black hoodie. She still hadn't figured out the trick of dressing to please herself after so many years in an Enchanter's suit, and so she usually bought whatever was cheapest at the secondhand store. But she often envied Cadash's skill with clothing and makeup, the way the dwarf used those tools to tell the world exactly who they were.

Cadash reached the end of the stack of money with quick efficiency. "Every penny as usual." They smiled. "Are you enjoying your magical elf pamphlet?"

"It's riveting reading," Mei said dryly. She liked Cadash—as much as you could like someone you owed a lot of money to—but she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle a bit at their tone and the reference to magic. "How many payments left?"

"Just five." Cadash didn't even have to look at a ledger. "Hey. I've got a question for you. How much do you know about the local lyrium trade?"

Mei felt every muscle and bone in her body freeze. "Nothing," she said honestly.

"Figured as much." Cadash's tone was casual, as if they'd asked if Mei liked cats or knew a good place to buy a sandwich. "But given your taste in reading material, I'm guessing you know some magically inclined folks?"

Mei swallowed and nodded.

Cadash's expression turned serious. "Tell them to watch out. Something weird's happening. There's an anonymous someone buying up huge stocks of lyrium directly from the usual supplier. And it's not hitting the streets."

Mei's mouth opened in a surprised little O. The largest purchaser of lyrium in Denerim was, of course, the Templar Order—but that was all done through legal channels and a very elaborate trade contract with Orzammar. Cadash was referring to the illegal lyrium trade, the one that fueled addicts and gave apostate mages materials for potions. If someone was buying up everything the Carta had and then not selling it …

"Someone's stockpiling lyrium," she said, her eyebrows drawing together.

"Or using a shit-ton of it themselves," Cadash agreed.

Mei felt her mind start whirring. "Do you think the robbery yesterday is connected?"

"Hard to say. There are a lot of reasons to steal money besides lyrium. But the timing seems … worth noting." Cadash tapped their lips thoughtfully.

Mei grimaced. She didn't have enough pieces to assemble a puzzle yet, but she didn't much like what was taking shape. "Thanks for the warning, Cadash."

Cadash waved an airy hand. "Anything for a loyal customer. Don't mention it." They paused, then, and for the first time Mei thought Cadash looked just a bit uneasy. "I mean that, though. You didn't hear that from me."

Mei nodded. "See you next week?"

"And the four after that," Cadash agreed, pulling their monocle back into place and turning once more to their book.

Despite the long walk ahead, Mei went well out of her way to a payphone that could not reasonably be connected to Cadash before calling Max. She didn't have much change, but fortunately Max answered on the second ring.

"Knight-Captain Trevelyan."

"Max, it's Mei." She looked over her shoulder before continuing, even though she knew she was being paranoid. "I just got a tip that I thought I should pass on. Someone's buying up Carta lyrium. As in all of it."

On the other end of the line, Max let out a low whistle. "Wow. How good's your information?"

"Pretty good, I think. I don't know the source all that well, but I think they're in a position to know and wouldn't pass this on unless they were sure."

Max, bless him, didn't ask more. "Damn. That might just be a motive for yesterday's robbery. I'll look into it."

Mei pressed her lips together. "You're investigating that robbery?"

Max chuckled humorlessly. "I am indeed. It was decided that we needed to send someone important to show Denerim the Templars care."

Mei's hand tightened around the receiver. "Be careful, OK?"

"Bah, don't worry about me. If I died in the line of duty my family would never let me live it down. Failure's not an option for Trevelyans," Max said lightly. "Thanks for the tip, Mei. And watch your back out there."

Mei hung up the phone with an odd sense of disappointment. She'd expected Max to ask for her help, she realized—to ask if she could look into local apostates, or find out more about the lyrium trade. But she was technically a civilian now; that kind of help would have been completely inappropriate.

With a wistful little sigh, Mei started the walk back home.