A/N: The nerve! Why so short after nearly 6 months without an update, you ask, dear reader? Because I chopped chapter 9 into two, that's why! Which means, ch. 10 will come faster. Also, if anyone reading here is also following "Of the Night Winds", I promise that will be updated next.


She hadn't meant to, but she had. Mahariel had left the camp in such a state that she forgot to bring her bath implements. Embarrassing as it was to go back to camp and face the humans she had just walked out on, Mahariel couldn't very well take her bath without her trusty lye soap and pumice. Thus, there she was, barely ten paces away from camp, steeling herself to ignore the ex-chantry pair for when she retrieved her tools when she heard—

"A bard?" Alistair asked Leliana and from the bonfire's waning light; Mahariel could see he was in shock. "You mean, the Orlesian sort?" he asked further.

Leliana laughed dryly and answered; "Yes, sadly." She turned to the night sky, making it hard for Mahariel to see her features as she asked; "I imagine you've heard stories about us?"

Alistair chewed on his lip and wrung his hands together as a rosy flush spread on his face. "Uhm...yes but...it wasn't from something I could call a credible source," he stammered.

"Erotica?" Leliana hummed.

"Err. Yes," Alistair replied, turning an even darker shade of scarlet. Mahariel took note to find out what 'erotica' was.

"Seduction was only part of the Game. We also lie, cheat, steal and kill," Leliana related as if she was mouthing off a dreadful chore.

Alistair seemed to ponder for a moment, the crackling of burning wood emerging from the silence. Then, he asked; "So...how are you different from assassins?"

Leliana took a breath, then, keeping her eyes to the sky, she answered; "Our goal isn't to take life, it is to ruin it."

Mahariel shivered at the narration; so she was right about the sneaky shemlen! She sunk behind the bushes, gesturing to Falon to keep silent and as ordered, the hound obeyed. The younger warden was already contemplating how to run Leliana out of the group when Alistair whispered—

"Something must have happened for you to end up in the Chantry. A crisis of conscience?" he offered with mirth.

With a shake of her head, Leliana sighed. "If only it were so," she said and, regarding Alistair solemnly, she breathed, "I was betrayed by my bardmaster."

Betrayed.

The word echoed inside Mahariel's head, striking a familiar chord. Empathy was immediate but Mahariel staved it off; it was unthinkable for the human to be similarly situated as her. And, Mahariel thought, given Leliana's former profession she probably deserved it. Hence, the young warden listened further, fully intending to condemn the woman regardless of her woe and misfortune.

But as the story wore on—

Mahariel felt a drop of water fall on her hand. She ignored it, but more fell upon her cheek. She reached up to her face and wiped it dry. Still, the drops kept coming.

It wasn't rain.