Finn decided we would go Amaranthine proper and seek his fortune there. He didn't know what he would do there, but it couldn't possibly be any worse than what he had managed so far.

As he plodded on, he wondered what value he might have outside the Circle. He was literate, and organized, and good with dead languages, but he didn't think there was much of a market for those things in the outside world. Certainly not for a man with no connections. Oh, hi, you don't know me, but I will alphabetize things for food...

He was so deep in thought that he didn't see the templar until he was almost on top of her. She was standing just outside the city gates, right in the middle of the road, like the colossus of Seheron. The etched sword on her breastplate was only slightly less terrifying than the actual sword that hung at her hip.

Their eyes met. With a sinking heart, Finn realized that it was too late to run. He scanned her face, noting her pinched cheeks and zealously over-tweezed eyebrows, and recognized her as Ser Rylock, a rather fervid knight that he remembered all too well from his time at the Tower.

"Good ser." Finn froze as he realized she was talking to him. "Do you travel from West Hills?"

Finn blinked. Rylock was looking at him dully, and he realized that somehow, impossibly, she did not recognize him. His mouth went dry. Perhaps it was because he was so unkempt. By then he must have been filthy, with the scratchy beginnings of a beard, where had always been fresh-scrubbed and clean shaven in the Tower. Or perhaps, he allowed, it was because someone much wiser than himself had convinced him to change his clothes.

Rylock was still waiting for an answer. Finn forced his terror down into his stomach and tried to act like a human. "Yes, I come from West Hills," he managed.

"Have you seen anything suspicious on the Imperial highway?" Rylock's hand rested on the hilt of her gleaming steel sword. Finn tried not to stare at it. "We've heard some strange reports. Magic. Blood magic rituals." Her face pinched in disgust. "Someone has been setting rabbits on fire."

"Oh." Finn's hand twitched. "Um. How awful. No, I haven't seen anything like that." Which wasn't exactly a lie; he could hardly bring himself to look at the poor things. Of course now he realized he should have disposed of the bodies. He bit his lip. "Who could do such a thing."

Rylock shook her head. "Mages. They aren't like us, you know, ser..." She looked at him expectantly, waiting for his name.

"Ah." He looked around desperately for inspiration. His eyes caught on sweeping archway of the gates of Amaranthine, the elegant masonwork, row upon row of even slabs of stone, and he finally sputtered, "...Brick."

"Ser Brick." Rylock's brow knit, and Finn's heart stopped. Then she shook her head, mumbling something about parents these days. Then she pulled a sheaf of vellum from her satchel and she showed it to him. "How about this man? Have you seen him?"

Finn looked at the paper, and his eyes widened. Staring back at him was a charcoal sketch of Anders, his onetime rival, his tormentor. His once-laughing eyes were glaring and angry, drawn in dark lines.

Rylock noted his reaction. "You know him?"

Act like a normal person you ninny. Finn caught his breath and looked up. "Well, uh, I know his face," he said, carefully. "Of course. It's all the news. He's the apostate who blew up the Chantry in Kirkwall isn't he?" Rylock nodded. "Terrible thing that," Finn added. "Because I love Chantries." His hand went to his neck, self consciously, to the amulet he had hidden there. "And the Maker. Um. Praise Andraste."

Rylock cocked an attenuated brow. "Yes. May Her words bring light to the darkness." The templar gave him one last dubious look before she rolled up her poster and stowed it in her pack. "His name is Anders."

With some effort, Finn forced his hand down to his side. "But Kirkwall is in the Free Marches. Why are you looking for him here?"

"Anders lived here. He was a Warden." Rylock looked off into the distance, and squinted, as if by sheer force of will she could see clear to Vigil's Keep. "I almost had him once, you know. Nobody else took him seriously, but I knew he was dangerous. I knew. I always knew." Finn didn't know why she was telling him all this, but he thought it best to be polite, given the circumstances. Her eyes darkened. "When I think about how close I was to catching him, how I could have stopped all this..."

Rylock waved her hands, at the apparently peaceful village of Amaranthine, and Finn realized she wasn't really talking to him at all. "But the Wardens stopped me," she went on. "Maybe Anders thinks they will help him again. I'm guessing he feels like he needs a friend right now." Her lips curved into a rather unpleasant smile. "I'd like to be that friend."

Finn tapped his fingers against his leg, nervously. He realized with some disgust that he was sweating. He had never feared a templar before, but then he had never seen this side of them before. This casual hatred. He wondered if there were any templars after him, specifically. He couldn't think of any who would have reason to hunt him, but there was no reason in Rylock's smile.

"You..." She looked at him, and Finn closed his mouth. Then he lifted his chin. "Do you really think he's going to come back here? He must know you remember about Amaranthine." He frowned. "Isn't it a little obvious?"

"People are obvious," Rylock said. "When faced with too much change at once, they crawl back to the familiar. It feels safe. Even when it isn't." Rylock stepped back, raising an armored hand. Finn tensed, but she only waved him on. "Enjoy your stay in Amaranthine, Ser Brick."

She looked past him, to the next normal person waiting to enter the city, and Finn lowered his head and hurried past her. He still didn't breathe again until he was out of her sight. He felt faint. Vertigo nearly brought him to his knees, and he fell against a wall. A brick wall, he realized, as the cold stone touched his skin.

My namesake, Finn thought, stupidly, and then he began to laugh. He covered his mouth, squeezing his eyes so hard he pressed tears from them, but he still felt lightheaded. Giddy, even. He had survived his first encounter with a templar.

He thought about what she'd said. Maybe he should learn to embrace change. Be unpredictable. At least it would keep him from getting caught by certain tenacious templars who never let anything go. And he had to admit, his old habits had only gotten him into trouble. Finn stood up again and headed into town, walking past the Chantry. He would figure this out. Maybe he could find an inn, or a stable, or a market where he could beg for food or even soap.

And then he saw her.

For a moment Finn thought he was hallucinating. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, but she was still there, a lone dwarf standing outside the Crown and Lion, with her hair in two bedraggled red pigtails, and a mournful look on her face. Dagna met his eyes, and the rest of the world fell away.

"Hello," she said.

"Dagna!" The name came out of him in one great gasp, like a fulmination, and then he couldn't seem to find any words to say that were big enough for all that he felt. Finally he settled on, "You're in Amaranthine," which was hugely inadequate.

"Yes, I am." Dagna shrugged. "It seemed as good a place as any. And... well, I thought you might think differently about things, once you'd had some time on your own." Then she clasped her hands together and looked at him expectantly.

Finn took a breath. "I'm so sorry about what happened," he said, and then the words all came out at once. "Dagna, I didn't mean anything I said back there. You... you have to know that I love you. You are my inverted polarity in Reynard's law of equivalent exchange. Without you I am just an imploding stultification." He reached out, and took her hands in his. "I am a templar without lyrium, a blood mage without a knife, an alchemist with an unbalanced alembic. I've regretted every step I've taken without you, and not just because you were right about these boots." He squeezed her fingers. "I never should have left you in West Hill. I would rather be in a in a ditch with you than in the finest Circle in all of Thedas. Please, please forgive me."

"Oh, Finn." Dagna smiled. "You had me at 'inverted polarity.'"

Overcome with relief, Finn took her in his arms and kissed her, more completely than he ever had before. She melted against him. In the warmth of her presence, all the pain of the past three days was forgotten, as if they had never happened.

After a moment Dagna pulled away. "Finn, I heard what happened to your father. I'm so, so sorry for your loss. I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now."

Finn blew out a breath. "Grief. Confusion. Anger." But the truth was he had not been close to his father in many years, and the loss of him was hollow and meaningless beside the fear that he had lost Dagna forever. He reached for her hand. "But you're here now. That's all that matters."

"I'm glad I found you again, too." Dagna smiled. "And I'm sorry, too. I said some things that I regret."

"You've nothing to apologize for," Finn said.

"No, I should have been more sensitive," Dagna said. "I know how proud you can be." Then she took her tongue between her teeth, and grinned. "But you're right. It is mostly your fault."

Finn let out a laugh, and Dagna laughed, too. He took her in his arms and she buried her face in his chest, just as high as his heart. "Dagna, I still don't know where we can stay. Now that my father's gone, we can't—"

She pressed her fingers into his lips. "Hush, it's been arranged." She nodded at the Crown and Lion, behind her. "I've a room for us upstairs."

"A room? But how did you-"

"Before you ask how I paid for it," Dagna cut in, "Let me remind you, again, that I am a dwarf, and I have my ways." She gave him a meaningful look. "I'm not without skills, Finn. You need to trust me."

"I do trust you," Finn said. "Completely."

Her eyes sparkled. "Good," she said, and pulled away to put her hands on her hips. "So, are you going to stand there in those dirty clothes all night, or are you going to come upstairs and use the bath? You are looking a little scruffy."

"A bath?" Finn asked, and Dagna nodded. He thought he might weep. No one could ever understand him as well as she did. "A bath, my cicaro, sounds perfect."

-o-

The dirt was washed away, his vigor returned, and then Dagna came to him, with those eyes and that look and gave him back his pride, as well. Finn slept like uthenera, and he woke with the sun, refreshed and restored.

Morning light filtered through the soft white curtains of their room, and Finn turned on his side to look at Dagna, resting peacefully beside him. She opened her eyes, and the light danced in her vivid blue eyes.

He touched her cheek. "Do you know, I've never woken up next to you like this? In a proper bed?" He smiled. "Gods, but it's... nice. It's really nice. I had no idea it would be this nice."

"Mmm," Dagna said and smiled back at him. Then she propped herself up on her elbows, and looked at him sideways. "Wait. Did you just say 'gods'?"

"Yes. Yes, I did." Finn's hand went to the the small symbol of Zazikel hanging from his neck. He pulled it free from his shirt and held it out to her. "Dagna, I have something to tell you. I'm a polytheist. I worship the old gods."

Dagna snorted. "Really? I didn't think anyone worshipped the old gods anymore. What with the taint and all." She arched a brow. "You heretic."

Finn nodded. "Yes, I am a heretic. I've always kept it a secret but I realize we aren't in the Tower anymore so I might as well shout it to the world. I pray to dragons!" Finn sat up. "I'm quite the secret rebel, actually. I helped Anders escape once, sort of by accident, but it still counts. And I know a bit of blood magic. I don't think all of it is evil." He stroked his chin. "Sometimes I even heal myself with it, if I cut myself shaving, or something."

"No!" Dagna laughed. "Finn, you're an apostate!"

"I'm such an apostate." Finn was laughing too, and he pulled her back into his arms. She smelled warm and wholesome, like fresh apple pie. He let his voice drop into a growl. "Are you frightened?"

Dagna's smile grew wicked. "Oh yes." She took hold of his shirt with both fists and looked up into his eyes. "Terrified."

The look in her eyes was a winking promise, brazen, in a way that they'd never dared before, with the Templars always looking over their shoulders. Her hands were on him, and he realized there were probably a lot of things he'd never experienced in the Tower. And some of those things were more than nice.

-o-

"So what now?" Dagna asked.

Finn looked at Dagna and took a deep breath. This was the question of his life, he realized. His whole future was as wide open as the sky. He tried not to let it terrify him.

"Let's go down to the docks," he said, after some time. "See what ships are there. If we can get to Val Royeaux... well, maybe we should."

"Orlais, eh?" Dagna tilted her head. "Are we joining the rebellion?"

It seemed like the thing to do. All the other mages had gone to Orlais, after all. He looked at Dagna. "Is that what you want?"

Dagna sighed. "What I want doesn't exist anymore. I wanted to study magic in the Circle Tower, but that's gone. So I'll go with you, because that's the next best thing." She considered this for a moment before she frowned. "Oh, but boats? All that water beneath us?" Her eyes widened, and Finn realized she was probably remembering how they had almost drowned at Lake Calenhad. "That sounds worse than the sky."

Finn assured her that it wasn't, but really he had no idea.

-o-

Amaranthine was a bustling seaport, with dozens of ships at the docks, each one teeming with sailors and cargo. Finn was overwhelmed by all the noises and sounds and smells. He had never seen so many people all at once before.

At a trading post, an old man was arguing with a woman in Antivan. She smelled like smoked fish. Behind them two children played with a ball of twine, kicking it back and forth between them, shouting something in Nevarran. By the shore, a young woman perched on a sloop, weaving a net and singing a song in Rivaini. Finn heard more languages than he could recognize.

As they made their way down the docks, Finn noticed two rather greasy looking sailors sitting on a bench, one of them with a pint in his hands; the other looked like he'd finished a few already. Dagna moved closer to Finn, and he saw then they were staring at her. "Oy naine," one of them called, "venir ici, nous donner un baiser..."

The other lifted his stein. "Elle est à la bonne hauteur, hein?"

"A ha, ha ha, ce mec." They were looking at him now. "Il ne sait même pas que nous parlons de sa petite amie."

Dagna's fist tightened around his. "Do you know what they're saying?"

"Not exactly." Finn grimaced. He had never really learned Orlesian.

They fell to laughing again, clasping their stomachs and tipping back their heads, showing him two sets of yellow teeth. A cold feeling turned in his gut. One of the sailors whistled, and Finn gritted his teeth. "Quel enculé!"

Finn didn't know what that meant either. He took Dagna's hand and strode past them, telling himself that he would just have to learn.

The first ship they saw was a gulet, sleek and elegant, flying the exploded star emblem of the Tevinter Imperium. A merchant squawked prices from a post at the shore, and Finn caught the words for bargain, and vintage; he gathered that he was selling alcohol. Despite their ill relations with the South, Tevinter still sold spirits in Amaranthine on a regular basis. Some rarified Fereldans had a taste for Tevinter's particular wine.

Finn smiled fondly, remembering how he had once bartered with Hadley to get him a bottle. He had traded him his favorite orichalc paperweight, only to find that the wine was past its prime, and gone to vinegar.

It was still good, though. With a sigh, Finn walked on.

At the next pier, a tall brigantine bearing the sunburst insignia of Orlais was moored with military precision. They were privateers, Finn realized. He was surprised that Amaranthine would allow them to dock here, but then he realized they probably had no way to stop them. Where does a company of pirates sit? Anywhere they want to.

"This ship looks Orlesian..." Dagna said tentatively.

"It also looks dangerous," Finn said. "I'd rather find a merchant." She agreed.

Past this was a frigate from the Free Marches, a large black ship loaded with drakestone, copper and refugees. Many of the Fereldan expatriots were finally finding their way back south. There was nothing left for them in the Free Marches. Finn was about to pass it by when one of the refugees came up to him, looked him straight in the eye, and said, "Flora?"

Finn stopped and stared at him. The man was wearing all black, with long coat, and a fine, high-collared jacket long since spoiled by wear. His shoulders were covered in something that might once have been feathers. He was so thin, and dirty, it took Finn more than a moment to recognize him.

"Anders?" he said finally.

The other man coughed, and then nodded.

"Anders? Not that Anders?" Dagna's mouth widened. Finn took him by the arm and pulled him back into the shadow of the ship.

"What are you doing here?"

The question seemed to take him by surprise. "I... I don't know," Anders said. "I thought everything would be better when the Towers fell, you know? I never..." He seemed to lose his train of thought. "I just don't know what comes next."

It was just as Rylock had said. "And so now you're in Amaranthine."

"Yeah." Anders shrugged. "I guess I thought I might find Faren, hook up with the Wardens again. Maybe they could help me."

"Am I the only one who remembers that Faren went through the eluvian?" Finn sighed. "Anders, you can't be here. Rylock is looking for you. It isn't safe."

Anders' eyes widened. "Princess Pluck herself? Really?" He let out a laugh. "Can't believe she's still carrying a torch."

"You'd be surprised how much ardor blowing up a Chantry can inspire. You'll never make it to Vigil." Finn chewed his lip, considering. "You should come with us."

"Finn..." Dagna warned, but Anders was already shaking his head.

"No. I'd only put you in danger," he said. "They'll never stop hunting me. Thank you for the offer, but..." Anders stared off into the distance. "It's a strange feeling, you know. When I did it, I had Justice inside me, telling me it was the only way. I was only my cause, and that gave me such clarity. But now I don't..." His voice trailed off.

"Don't tell me you're having second thoughts," Finn said.

"No. Never." Anders shook his head. "But I never expected to survive, is the thing. I was supposed to be a martyr. I still don't understand why Marian didn't kill me." He looked down at the ground, worrying the sand with the toe of his boot. "I think... maybe I should just let Rylock catch me."

Finn did not know how to respond. He remembered how vibrant Anders had been, back in the Tower. Even on the day he came out of solitary, he had been smirking, and yet Finn saw then that he was also trapped in his own rhythms, just like everybody else.

Anders reached behind his back, and handed Finn a staff. "Here, take this," he said. "It belonged to friend of mine, but ah... well, we aren't on speaking terms anymore. And I'd rather you have it than Rylock."

The staff was huge, and bright gold, topped with an unexpectedly naked woman; the designer had obviously enjoyed an even closer relationship with his staff than Finn. It was typically garish, but Finn could tell it was also very powerful. Perhaps even more powerful than Vera, he thought, though it felt unfaithful to think that. Finn didn't realize how much he had missed holding a staff, but he had, and he felt complete again with the instrument in his hands.

"You'll need to hide that," Dagna said. She handed him the apron from her dress, and he quickly wrapped it and slung it over his back.

He looked back at Anders. "Thank you," he said.

Anders nodded, and Finn ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't think of anything else to say: 'good luck' or 'see you later' seemed really stupidly optimistic. Anders kicked a small rock and looked up.

"Are you happy that you're free, at least?" he asked, finally. "Did I give the world that much?"

Finn bit his lip. "Sure, Anders," he said. Anders smiled faintly and then mumbled a farewell. Finn watched him shamble off.

"We should keep moving," Dagna said, and after a moment they continued on down the docks, searching for their deliverance.

They found a merchant ship at the last pier, a Rivaini trader that was headed to Val Chevin. The sailors chattered in their native tongue, as foreign to Finn as Orlesian had been. He would never fit into Orlais, he realized. Even if he learned the language, with his accent he would be marked as a foreigner almost immediately, and a mage not long after. He would always be running. He stopped, looking over the boat, wondering what the templars in Orlais did to fugitive mages when they found them.

"This one, then?" Dagna asked, beside him. Finn didn't answer immediately, and Dagna cocked her head to the side. "I don't think we'll find a better option."

Finn nodded slowly. "You're right, of course. We won't find a better way to Orlais." He frowned, and thought of Anders, and how lost he was. He didn't want to lose himself like that. He said, "I'm beginning to think we shouldn't go to Orlais."

Dagna looked at him curiously, and Finn took a deep breath. A plan was sparking in his mind. He looked back down the docks, back to the lovely Tevinter gulet floating high in the water at the first pier. He touched the amulet of Zazikel through his doublet.

"How would you like to go to Minrathous?"

"Minrathous?" Dagna was skeptical. "You fancy yourself a magistrate now?"

"Well... no. Not exactly. I haven't developed a sudden hankering for slaves, or world domination, or anything." His brow furrowed. "But the thing is, I think that if I went to Orlais, I would just be doing the same as everyone expects of me. And that is only another cage."

"And you wouldn't want to do something just because Kinnon thought it was a good idea."

"Exactly." Finn looked back at her, and she smiled. "But if I went to Tevinter, well. I think I might make sense in Tevinter. I speak their language, albeit the language they spoke a thousand years ago, but still. It's a lot better than my Orlesian. And I think I could be of use, maybe I could be a liaison to the revolution, help fugitive mages hide out. No one would hunt us there." And this was the real appeal, he realized. In Tevinter he could return to some of the security he had known in the Tower, without any of the restrictions or slights. It was something he hadn't known he'd wanted. "We could have a life, Dagna. A real life."

Finn reflected on the idea, and it grew on him more as he thought about it. He smiled at her. "And the libraries they have in Tevinter," he said breathlessly. "The whole Circle Tower library could fit inside the antiquities section at the Argent Spire."

Dagna's eyes lit up. "Oh, Finn," she said, and Finn could see then that she had not really wanted to go to Orlais, either. For the first time in days, she looked like herself again. She began to bounce on her toes. "Can you imagine all the Imperium artifacts that must need cataloguing?"

"I know!" Finn took his hands in hers. "The magisterial reliquaries alone!"

And so it was settled. With the last of her money, Dagna secured passage on the Tevinter gulet at a very competitive rate, and in a few hours they were off. The sailors cast off, the sails filled, and they set out to sea. As set out, Dagna stood on the prow, her hands gripping the railing so tightly that her knuckles were white. Finn moved to stand beside her, resting one hand on the rail and the other on her waist.

"I'm told a gulet is the safest way to travel," he said

She managed a smile and assured him, "I'll be fine. Just takes some getting used to." She looked up at the open sky, yawning and cavernous above them. "We haven't fallen in yet."

Finn laughed. He scratched at the raw bite on his arm. "Been eaten alive, though. I wonder if there are less bugs in Tevinter?"

"Probably not." Dagna smiled. "But you'll learn to cope."

The Amaranthine Ocean was vast, and though there was no land in sight, there were other ships in the distance, slashes of sails and trim hulls balanced on the knife-edge of the horizon. One of the sailors loosed another sail, and the gulet picked up speed. They cut out of the bay, leaving Ferelden behind, perhaps forever. His heart raced. He was terrified, he had no idea what was going to happen to him, but he realized also that he was excited beyond reason. He was going to Tevinter, home of Nedarius and eluvians and the cult of Lusacan and all those things he had always dreamed of but never thought he would see himself. And he had a staff, now, and a plan, and he was not alone.

Beside him, Dagna closed her eyes and let go of the railing, tentatively, but the sky did not swallow her up, and after a moment Finn let go, too. He spread his hands.

"Did you mean what you said to Anders, back there?" Dagna asked. "Are you really glad you're free?"

Finn drew a long breath. "Yes," he said. And the ship sailed on, bearing them onward to where the endless ocean met the infinite sky, to the edge of the world.