Faith is something new to Dusty. She believes in luck and providence, the cards falling in your favour. That's not quite the same thing as trusting in a higher power, a grand authority figure with a plan for all, that he just so happens not to really share beyond an obscure, difficult to interpret story. Dusty prefers to focus on the more tangible aspects of the Maker; Andraste, the encouragement to do good. The Herald, even if it's clearly a subject for some considerable debate whether or not the woman was sent by the Maker or just got very, very lucky. She feels a little bad for picking and choosing sometimes, but in her opinion you can't really cheat at religion in the same way you might cheat at a game of chance.
The Mother named Giselle that has taken up residence in Haven's chantry has reassured Dusty that it's all right to explore different aspects of faith… especially when there's that whole dwarf thing to consider. The Chant doesn't mention dwarves at all, though overall Dusty doesn't consider that to be any worse than Orzammar viewing the Cadash as functionally non-existent. She's also pretty sure the chantry doesn't brand anyone's face for having the audacity to not have important parents, which is another point in their favour.
Dusty got hers when she was fourteen, just a kid amongst the Carta. They like their teens. Old enough to listen to instructions, young enough to avoid suspicion. And young enough that when the guards beneath the surface catch you, they're so generous as to let you off with a beating, a one-way trip back topside, and a permanent reminder of how Orzammar treats criminals.
That's the last time the Carta sent her underground. She wonders sometimes whether they hear about the Breach down there, if the concept of a hole in the sky is even something that the dwarves can grasp. Dusty has her doubts.
"If it isn't my totally law-abiding friend!"
Startled, Dusty stumbles and almost trips. There's a warm, throaty chuckle that over time has become familiar. A little heat rising to freckled cheeks, Dusty steadies herself and gives a rather cool look to the laugh's owner.
"So, come to tell everyone that you're on the straight and narrow? Because after the fleecing you gave the bar at Wicked Grace, I'm not sure anyone is going to believe you."
"Sorry Varric, but the criminal life just keeps dragging me back in," and so odd that it's just Varric now. When did she begin to be on a first name basis with a deshyr of the merchant's guild? That's crazy enough on its own without even adding the 'writer' and 'hero' parts. Everyone in the free marches knows about Kirkwall and the crazy shit that went on in that place. The Tale of the Champion might downplay Varric's role in all of the events in the city, but the dangers that a person like Hawke encountered would not have brooked a random tagalong.
Besides, isn't Varric here helping the Inquisition fight off another massive crisis? No... Dusty doesn't think she's ever going to get used to the fact she knows a man like this personally.
"Smuggling again? I'm disappointed in you," Varric slowly shakes his head. "Between the huge payoffs, the gratitude of the Inquisition and the pleasure of the company of yours truly… wait, where was I going with this?"
"Not that huge. I don't really see most of what the Inquisition pays for the lyrium," she gets a cut at least, and given that the first time Dusty found out just how much lyrium was going for her jaw nearly hit the floor, it's actually pretty gratifying that the Carta trust her with the deals. Well. Doing the legwork for the deals. She's not important enough to be anywhere near the negotiating table.
"What self-respecting smuggler doesn't skim a little off the top?" Varric teases.
"One who enjoys her hide remaining intact."
"That is… a pretty good point, actually. You win this one, Dusty," there's an ever so slight frown, easily missed. Faintly, Varric murmurs something that sounds a little like 'that's just cheating…'
Dusty doesn't pry. She's good at pointedly not asking questions, it's one of the reasons that the Carta likes her.
"Well, you know. We can't all be daring heroes that fight along the chosen hero of Andraste and still have time to write books when we get home."
Varric, from a neutral expression, slowly grins. "You know, I don't think I ever actually told you I was a writer."
Dusty swallows. No, no he hasn't. "I… it's not uncommon knowledge. Plenty of people in Haven talk about your books."
"Yeah? Well, if you'd like I have a copy of Hard in Hightown just lying around. It's about a guardsman called Donnen who's-"
"Two weeks from retirement," Dusty finishes, automatically. Then her eyes go wide. "Sod!"
"A smuggler who reads my crime serial. Should I be worried you're looking for tips?"
"I… I should go. Delivery. Lyrium. Have to… do that… with the lyrium."
Dusty bolts, Varric's laughter in hot pursuit.
Me and my big sodding mouth!