He'd stifled a laugh as he walked away from the table. He hoped she hadn't seen and been offended. It was rare for him to see her composure slip. He smiled at the memory of her cursing like a common sailor at him when she'd been injured two weeks prior. And she'd been so nervous asking him to help her. Well, she'd certainly held her own in the fight when they'd been attacked. When he'd felt them drain her, he'd pushed her behind him, assuming that she would be helpless without her magic. It had surprised him. He chuckled to himself, opening his chamber door, at the thought of such a woman stammering like a new apprentice. It was… not adorable.

Perhaps he shouldn't have agreed to help her. His duty required that he maintain distance, not participate in idle hobbies. Then again, the skill she did have with a sword had clearly saved her life. He busied himself with reports and various administrative tasks for the intervening hour. When it came time to meet her, he shrugged into a thick leather jerkin and headed for the practice yard. He found her pacing in front of the rack of practice swords. She held two wooden short swords, and was nervously twirling them in circles, loosening her wrists.

"So, what has he taught you?"

She looked around at him. "Short swords and some hand-to-hand."

"What sort of hand-to-hand?"

"Um… there's more than one type?"

"There's grappling, fists, …"

"Not wrestling."

"First, let's see how you do with those swords."

They squared off in the practice yard. She eyed him nervously. He was far bulkier than she, even without the armor, and he'd purposely chosen a large shield and the largest practice sword he could comfortably swing one-handed. He circled, and she slowly moved in a counterpoint. He looked her up and down. Her feet were in the right place, and though she'd been nervous before, the swords she held in guard didn't waver. She balanced herself well, not hunching over or leaning backwards awkwardly, as most recruits were apt to do.

He lunged. She parried with one sword, forcing his arm to swing outwards as she brought her other over and down across her body. His shield barely came up in time to block the swing. Good. He lunged from below this time, and with more power and speed. She danced back, parrying to move around him to strike at the back of his head. He blocked it more easily this time and turned to find her with a grin on her face.

Back and forth, striking, parrying, and counter-striking they went. He tested, slowly increasing the swiftness and force of his attacks, finding her limits and strengths. She grinned the whole time, all prior nervousness forgotten. But despite her obvious skill, he had mass and reach on his side, as well as many more years of training. She fell for a feint, and he slammed his shield straight into her midsection. She only partially brought one arm up in time and went sprawling backwards into the sand. Her head hit the ground, and he rushed towards her, worried he'd been too rough. But she coughed and laughed, a full-bodied sound so free and filled with joy he couldn't help but join. He walked to stand over her, and she lifted her head to peer at him with that silly grin plastered across her face.

"Ow." She giggled.

"Then block it."

"I do believe that's the second time you've done that to me, Captain."

He snorted and reached to pull her up. She grasped his wrist, and his fingers curled around her own, but they both pulled with too much force, and she stumbled into him. He brought his free hand up to catch her shoulder. Their clasped hands were now sandwiched between them, and he startled when he felt the back of his hand firmly pressed against her chest. Her laughing abruptly petered off, and she stepped back, clearing her throat.

She laughed again. "Shit, sorry."

He turned to the side, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in hopes that his arm would hide the embarrassment written in a blush on his face. "It was my fault."

She bent to pick up her swords, and turned back, giving him another of those brilliant grins. "Again?" No, he should never have agreed to this. You stupid, foolish man.

o.O.o

"Good morning, Captain." This time she did not wait for his permission as she sat across from him as he ate breakfast.

"Good morning, Enchanter."

"Here," she said, handing him a letter. "Read this."

It was one of the letters recovered from the den of blood mages. He glanced at her and then to the letter. Other than some unfortunate grammar, nothing jumped out at him. "And?" he asked.

"Look at the mistakes in the writing."

"Yes, and? Tell me your point, Enchanter."

"These mistakes are not just the sort an uneducated Free Marcher would make. Whoever wrote this is foreign."

He reached for the letter and looked more carefully. "Can you tell where from?"

"The mistakes and the word use are consistent with a native of Tevinter. And look," she pointed with determined excitement, "they mention an arrival date. Two days ago. They must most likely have come by ship."

"And you want ship logs."

"Yes."

"I'll ask Aveline to have her guard question the dockmasters."

"Whoever came here may have bribed someone to keep their entrance into Kirkwall secret. We need to see which captains have recently arrived from Tevinter."

"That's got to be at least half of them, and Tevinter may not have been their last stop. Whoever wrote this letter may not have even come by ship."

"But we know that they probably arrived on a ship, and we know when. If I can get on the ships that also arrived on that date, I can probably tell if a mage was on the ship. As long as they performed some kind of magic."

"That's a lot of ifs. And anyone from Tevinter is likely to be a mage."

"It's a place to start. Besides, we just have to find a mage who came in on a ship that day. How many can there be?"

He snorted at that. "And how to you propose we gain access to all the ships? Unless there is a good reason, we can't have the guard hold them for us."

"Haven't thought that far."

He sat back, thinking. "You're a mage, pretend you wish to escape Kirkwall."

"And you?"

The corner of his mouth curled, "No one will question a hired bodyguard."

"When can we go?"

He almost hid the smirk at her excitement, "When can you be ready?"

o.O.o

It turned out getting information about shipping histories was fairly easy. A few gold coins and they had the names of captains and ships. Talking to the captains proved trickier. Many of those traveling between Kirkwall and Tevinter had few moral qualms about outright kidnapping the unimportant and adding them to the rest of their cargo as slaves. More than once Cullen had wished he were able to simply have Aveline haul the men in for questioning or been allowed to hold the ships for inspection. And out of three of the five ships the First Enchanter had so far sensed nothing.

The fourth ship they came to was being loaded with goods and looked ready to cast off soon. "Make this quick, Enchanter." It would be too easy for the crew to capture them this close to departure.

Her expression was as uneasy as he felt. "Can you swim, Captain?"

"I'd rather not have to."

"I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

The captain, a Darius Tiberium, was smiling and gracious as he led them aboard his vessel. But when the captain offered to show them quarters, Cullen did not for a moment believe that the man following them below decks with a mop and bucket was there to clean anything. When he surreptitiously squeezed the Enchanter's elbow, she coughed briefly in acknowledgement. As with the last three, he engaged the captain with questions about the ship and how fast it would arrive in Tevinter and the price of their passage. While he busied Tiberium, she felt for the tell-tale signs of magic.

Above them, he heard what sounded like a heavy rope hit the deck. In a last ditch attempt to avoid trouble, he hinted to the captain that they had valuable cargo that would need transport. Of course they had to return to shore and retrieve it prior to boarding, but could he guarantee its safe passage? Their ever oily and obliging host brought them to the captain's office to assure them that his safe would be more than adequate. It all unraveled from there.

The moment Tiberium closed the office door, the First Enchanter pulled a knife from her sleeve and, twisting behind him, held it to his throat.

The captain was utterly unshaken by her actions. "My dear lady, I would suggest you rethink whatever it is you are about to do."

Instead of addressing the captain, she turned to Cullen. "There was lyrium here. But it's wrong."

"Wrong?" His heart sank.

Now she did address Tiberium, "Tell me about the lyrium you were keeping."

The captain's composure slipped only slightly, "It was lyrium. I don't know what else there is to say about it."

She closed her eyes. A moment later she opened them and waved the hand not holding a dagger to the desk, "Over there. There's… whatever it is."

As he went around the desk to search for her "wrong lyrium", the door opened to four armed men. Two of them held bows. The Enchanter, swung herself and the captain around to back them towards the rear of the room. One man whispered to his comrade and left.

"Young miss, may I suggest you take your knife from the captain?" Cullen had a sinking feeling that this was not the first time the crew had handled such a scenario.

She looked at Cullen, her eyes wide and begging him to hurry. "If I let him go, you'll kill us."

"It would be less messy to just let you go." As he said this, there was a lurch.

"And how will you let us go if there is no land to let us go on?" Cullen dug faster through the drawers.

Tiberium answered, "Service in Tevinter would be preferable to death, no?" One of the men drew his bow and knocked an arrow.

She turned to Cullen again as she maneuvered herself and Tiberium between the archer and himself. "Nearest to me, I think." He yanked open the top drawer next to her.

"Nothing." He caught a whiff of something. "No, wait." There was a dust in the back of the drawer. "It's red lyrium."

"What?"

"Corrupted lyrium."

"Anything else there?"

"No."

And with that, magic blossomed from her in two directions. One wave carried the ship's captain and his guards crashing into the far wall of the office, and a second shredded through the windowpanes of the ship. She pulled him towards the hole, and they both jumped into the sea below. Surfacing and spluttering out half swallowed saltwater, he looked up and saw the archers standing at the broken window.

"Dive!" At least she had the good sense to do as he ordered without looking around first. They swam towards shore as quickly as possible, only coming up for air as needed. Eventually, he looked back and saw they were out of range, and yelled for her to halt when she next came up to breathe. She took a moment to rest, floating on her back. There was still a good distance to go until they reached the shore.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you warning, Captain." Maker, if she was apologizing for their magic-aided escape, she must think him a delicate lamb. The thought rankled him.

"You can top coddling me, Enchanter." The words came out more harshly than he'd intended.

"Will you always be a jackass when I'm trying to be nice?" The hint of smile in her voice softened her retort.

"Maybe." The corner of his mouth twitched up in rueful apology.

He heard a barely audible sigh. "Captain, I'm going to make us a raft to get us back to the docks."

"Alright."

She closed her eyes and whispered. He jumped as something brushed his foot, but it turned out to be a large cushion of kelp rising from under them. When it had fully surfaced, she collapsed onto her back, breathing hard. "One sec," she breathed.

He grunted in understanding; swimming was hard exercise even without trying to outrun arrows. He glanced over at her as she took a moment to rest. Now that they were out of the water, he was all too aware of the way the cloth of her soaked shirt and trousers clung to her. She was slender, but the graceful curves of gently flaring hips and what he judged to be well-shaped, though not overly large, breasts were captivating. His head snapped towards the coast as she sat up. As she spelled their makeshift craft towards the shore, he mentally shook himself. No.

After reaching the docks and hauling themselves out of the water, she turned to him, laughing. "My, we look a sight!"

He couldn't help smiling back. "Aye, we do. Best get back and get out of these clothes."

She started, and her eyes widened slightly in amusement.

Oh Maker. He held up a hand, as if pushing her words away. But he couldn't help laughing, "Now, that is not what I meant." He wasn't sure if he was blushing.

"And here, I thought I would never see that sense of humor again." Her voice had dropped low, and the twinkle in her eyes was positively wicked. Andraste's flaming sword, was she flirting-? No. No, she was not.

He snorted.

She smirked at him, "Just let me dry off." And with a few words and a twitch of her fingers, her clothes were dry. "I can dry your clothes as well if you like."

"That would be nice." Ever since the conversation in his office, she had been considerate in her use of magic, always warning him if she were going to cast. Or like now, asking permission to use it on him. He found he was not uncomfortable around her. He wondered, not for the first time, if this was how it was at the Fereldan Circle, all easy conversation and light joking. Sometimes, there were brief moments when he forgot she was a mage, usually when she smiled or smiled and swore at him. Perhaps someday he could make his Circle closer to that.

As she flicked the water from his clothing and back into the sea, his reverie was broken by a shout of, "Mage!" Shit. He should never have let her use magic in public, especially when he wasn't wearing a uniform to legitimize it. By now a few had taken up the call, and were advancing towards them. Some bore weapons. He stepped forward slowly, circling the Enchanter to position himself between her and the approaching men.

He held his hands out to his side, a placating gesture, and addressed the crowd. "This is an Enchanter of the Kirkwall Circle, and we're heading back there now. She's no threat to you."

"An' who're you to speak for 'er?"

"Knight Captain Cullen."

The man's lip curled in a smirk of disbelief. "Yeh've forgotten yer armor, Ser."

"They will recognize me at the Gallows, and if that's not enough then go find a guard."

The man sneered at them, "Then we can do the honor of escorting you back." The crowd closed towards them. Cullen put a hand behind him to corral her away from the workers. They walked the short distance to the ferry in this fashion. He was relieved and the crowd dispersed when the ferryman identified them. The Enchanter was subdued and silent during the boat ride back.

o.O.o

Despite their earlier exertions, Eve insisted on holding their sparring match that evening. She was furious and frustrated and needed an outlet. Unfortunately, their practice didn't bring her the carefree release it usually did, and she showed less grace and coordination. Her attacks were mostly brute force, and there was a vague thought that she should exercise better control over her emotions, but Eve couldn't bring herself to care. She just needed to hit something.

After the umpteenth time she peeled herself out of the sand, he said, "Enchanter, you usually know how to dodge that." It wasn't an explicit question.

"I've done nothing, and yet they fear me."

"I…" He seemed uncertain of how to continue. "They remember a mage blowing up the Chantry, and with it, half of High Town. There were demons and abominations in the streets. It will be a while before anyone forgets that."

She didn't know how to respond to that. It was infuriating, but it was not illogical. But unfairness frustrated her no end. She wanted to scream, but that would be too childish.

She took a calming breath. "I think I'm done for the evening, Captain. Thank you." She started toward the weaponry to return her swords.

"Enchanter?" His voice was soft, coaxing. A templar, especially one from the infamous Kirkwall Circle, shouldn't have such a voice. It was warm cider and honey, and his gentle, almost pleading tone assuaged some of her rage. She schooled her features into a polite expression and turned to face him.

"Hmm?"

He met her gaze. "You don't scare everyone."

The smile she gave him was weak but genuine. "Captain, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." Don't blush girl. And she walked away before she could.