Chapter Nine

"And then what happened?" Anders' face wore an expression of horrified fascination, his spoon halfway to his mouth.

Shepard shrugged. "He told me he would 'consider my request'. And then he kicked me out."

But not before I gave him something to think about…

Anders struggled to regain control of his lower jaw. "You… you broke into the qunari compound, armed with your…" he gestured vaguely with one hand. Luckily, it was not the one still holding the forgotten spoon.

"Garrus," Shepard prompted with a grin. She was still flying high from the aftereffects of adrenaline.

Anders rolled his eyes. "… and you demanded all sorts of things from the Arishok before showing up one of his soldiers by shooting his arrow out of the sky? And you're still alive?!"

Shepard was smug. "Ye… oh, no, wait. I forgot. I also told him he owed me his life."

"I will consider your request. Now leave." Once again, the Arishok turned away.

"You're welcome, by the way," Shepard called after him.

A tiny hesitation.

"For your life, of course. If I'd have wanted you dead, you would be."

He spun, advancing on her with a dangerous look in his eye. Shepard simply raised an eyebrow. "In the future," she said, gesturing to her rooftop entry point, "watch your canopy."

"Only Hawke," Anders stated flatly, "could manage to find and rescue someone even crazier than she is."

Shepard took a large bite of stew. "It wasn't crazy," she mumbled around the mouthful. "It was a calculated risk."

It was clear the healer didn't agree with her assessment.

"But," she continued, swallowing, "today's little adventure is beside the point. What's more important is the future."

"If you keep threatening the Arishok, you won't have one," Anders said dryly.

Shepard rolled her eyes at him. "I didn't threaten. I pointed out a tactical weakness. He should be grateful."

The healer snorted. "I don't think the qunari are big on gratitude."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "You think? Anyway, while I thank you for your healing and hospitality, it's pretty obvious that I'm going to need a job." She paused for another bite. "Or whatever it is you people have here."

Anders chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "You should talk to Varric," he admitted. "That devious dwarf has his fingers in a lot of pies in Kirkwall. He'll probably be able to help you find something." His spoon scraped on the bottom of his wooden bowl. "Do you have any skills, apart from stabbing people and shooting fireballs?"

He gave her a shrewd look. "Don't think I didn't notice that part, yesterday."

"Wasn't trying to hide it," Shepard said with surprise. "But since we're on the topic… a stick? That's got to be for show, right?"

"What?" Anders looked mildly confused. "You mean my staff?"

"Yep. You were… shooting things - energy, ice… from it. Apparently." Shepard did not hide her skepticism.

Anders took note of her tone, and his eyes hardened. "And how is that any different than what you were doing? I thought you said you didn't have magic where you came from."

"Now I'm not so sure," she admitted. "From what I've seen, I'm beginning to think it's similar to what we call biotics - the ability to generate and manipulate dark energy with your own body."

"So you do have magic," Anders said with satisfaction. "And you're a mage."

"What? Me?" Shepard laughed. "Not really. I have a very low grade potential for biotics, but never bothered with an amp. I'm strictly tech."

"An imp?" The healer looked aghast. "You mean all of your mages are maleficarum?"

Shepard's brow furrowed deeply. "Are what?"

"Blood mages."

At her look of continuing bafflement, he went on. "Pacts with demons? Imps?"

The light suddenly dawned, and Shepard crowed with laughter. "I said amp, not imp! Short for amplifier. I suspect that, for whatever reason, your biotics are somehow strong enough that you don't need them." She sobered quickly. "Although I'm still not sure how you manage cryo blasts. That's not something I've ever seen a biotic do before." Shepard gave him a hard look. "Or a stick. It's strictly a tech thing."

Anders shook his head. "Now I'm the one who's lost. What's a cryo blast?"

"You know," Shepard waved her empty bowl. "Freezing people."

He shrugged. "I'm good with ice."

"So I noticed. And that's still part of your magic business?"

"What else would it be?" Anders answered. "It's just elemental control. You can shoot fireballs, can't you?"

"Not on my own," Shepard retorted. She tapped her omni-tool. "This can. I just direct them. But fuck if I'll believe that a stick can do the same," she added.

A look of understanding came over Anders' face. "Ah. No," he replied. "You're right, sort of. A staff can't do magic on it's own, exactly. They usually have lyrium running through them, and a mage can use one to focus or add to his own abilities."

Shepard's jaw dropped. "You're saying that you can use a stick as some kind of exterior amp?"

"I don't know," Anders countered. "Am I?"

Shepard set her bowl down with a thump and scrubbed her face. Her earlier high had fled. She sighed. "Fuck if I know."

Anders watched her with something akin to sympathy. Justice still had trouble sometimes adapting to life outside the Fade. He suspected Shepard might feel the same.

"You never answered my question," he pointed out gently.

Shepard looked up. "Which one?"

He collected her bowl from the ground and took both dishes to a shallow basin of water. "Your skills," he clarified, swishing the bowls around in the water. "Besides the obvious, of course."

The woman laughed without humor. "Pissing off the Powers That Be, foiling mad scientists, terrorists and assassination attempts, surviving suicide missions, brokering peace in 300 year-old conflicts, reversing the sterilization of entire species, saving the galaxy from threats beyond imagining… should I continue?" Shepard rolled her shoulders. "In the end," she said, "it all boils down to doing the job that's in front of you."

"Varric," Isabela said accusingly, "you and Hawke have been holding out on me."

The dwarf looked up from shuffling a deck of cards. "Excuse me?"

"I have to find out from Merrill and Fenris that Hawke's got a pretty new mage girl?"

Varric raised his eyebrows. "One, there is no way that Shepard could be called a girl. She is most definitely a woman. And two, the ability to shoot fireballs nonwithstanding, she claims she isn't a mage."

"And pretty?" Isabela challenged.

"I'll give you the pretty part. Although I suspect that dangerously attractive might be a better description."

"Oooh. Dangerous," Isabela purred. "I like dangerous."

"I know, Rivaini," Varric sighed. "I know."

The pirate threw herself into a chair. "So when do I get to meet her?"

Varric shrugged. "She's down at Anders clinic. I suspect you'll see her there when you turn up for your discreet weekly visit."

"I was just there this morning, and I didn't see her. Oooh, and Anders didn't even say anything! That wretch."

"I don't know what to tell you, Rivaini. Maybe Anders will bring her with him tonight."

"Great. As if one mage at the table wasn't enough," Fenris growled. "Where's Hawke?"

"Languishing at at party for the De Launcets," Varric reported. "I believe she plans to escape by claiming the onset of spotted fever."

Fenris raised a pale eyebrow. "Her mother again?"

"Of course. You don't think Hawke would volunteer, do you?"

The elf's lips twitched. "Not unless there was the prospect of bloodshed." He looked down. "I see that Griffon made it."

The mabari sat up at the mention of his name.

"He never misses a night, you know."

Fenris gave the hound a pat as he took a seat. "I hope he brought coin this time. Last time, I ended up with three marrow bones after he bluffed on a weak hand."

"I don't know how you knew he was bluffing," Isabela commented. "He fooled me completely. I folded a perfectly good hand, too."

The elf shrugged his lean shoulders. "I know his tells."

"Everyone," Anders greeted them from the doorway. "I hope you don't mind that I brought Shepard along."

Isabela sat forward eagerly.

"Of course not, Blondie."

"Good. She wants to talk to you about finding a job."

"Well," demanded Isabela, "where is she?" Anders had entered the room unaccompanied.

"She said she had to, 'visit the little girls' bucket'," he answered. "I think she meant she needed the privy."

"Oh," said Isabela with disappointment. "So, tell me about her."

Anders shrugged. "What's there to tell? She's crazier than Hawke, and she's either a bigger bullshit artist than Varric, or she's some kind of legend where she comes from."

"Crazier than Hawke?" Varric wondered. "Sounds like there's a story in that, Anders. Care to share?"

The mage leaned back in his chair. "What would you say if I told you that she broke into the qunari compound and demanded an audience with the Arishok?"

"I'd say that somebody was shitting somebody."

"Ask her yourself," Anders motioned to the doorway where Shepard stood.

Isabela's eyes raked over the woman. Deep black hair, deep green eyes. Delicate features that nevertheless showed strength of purpose in every expression. Lean, hard body not quite masked by a feminine tunic and leggings.

"Varric," said the woman, smiling. "Fenris," the elf got a cool but cordial nod.

She took a chair between Anders and Varric and met the pirate's scrutiny curiously.

"Shepard, this is Isabela," Anders offered. "Formerly Captain Isabela."

"Captain?" Shepard asked, with interest. "You have a military title?"

Isabela laughed. "Andraste's tits, no! I was captain of the Siren, a lovely little ship. Lost her to the rocks in a storm three years ago." She sighed gustily. "And here I am."

"Isabela is… or was… a pirate," Anders supplied.

"Smuggler, really," Isabela corrected depreciatingly.

"Far be it for me to interrupt the pleasantries, but Blondie tells us you broke into the qunari compound to talk to the Arishok?" Varric broke in. "I must admit to rabid curiosity. What were you thinking? And why?"

"And how is it you're still alive?" added Fenris.

Shepard shrugged. "Maybe it's true what they say; you only die once…"