After that night, Hawke left the project of fixing the mirror to her. He came by every so often to check on her progress, but mostly he stayed out of the way.

It wasn't a tense absence. In fact, in quite the opposite way, it made Merrill feel as though he trusted her more. Her promises for caution must have satisfied him somehow, because he seemed content to let her progress as she saw fit, offering input only when she requested it.

Merrill knew it was unwarranted for her to feel so pleased and emboldened by his newfound deference, but she couldn't help her lifted mood.

Thoughts of her clan, and the troubles looming over Kirkwall, faded into the background whenever she could devote an hour or two into trying to crack the mirror's secrets. And the weight of those responsibilities disappeared entirely whenever she thought she'd made a breakthrough. She was beginning to savor the excuse to discuss history and magical theory with the other mage.

When she could get him talking, Hawke was a wellspring of thought and knowledge. He seemed to be able to remember verbatim almost everything he had ever read.

She pondered this talent of his as she made her way happily up to Hightown. Perhaps she would ask him about it outright after she told him about the mirror's new sheen. Recently the glass had taken on a bluish sort of hue. Instead of looking straight into shadow when she inspected the mirror's face, she was beginning to feel more like she was gazing into a very deep pool.

She giggled to herself, and picked up her pace.

"You seem in high spirits," a familiar voice said, falling into step by her side.

"Isabela!" Merrill grinned. She stretched her arms out in front of her as far as they could go. "You know what? I am!"

The pirate flashed her a chagrined sort of smile. "How?" she asked, "The Qunari are surging at their compound walls. Don't you feel it? Kirkwall is on the brink of war."

Merrill's eyes fled to the side. She could feel it, and she knew the tension had Aveline in particular chomping at the bit, but she couldn't seem to make herself any more concerned. Especially not now when she had more interesting happenings to focus on.

"Yes, I know," she admitted, smiling bashfully. "But… I don't know. I'm just happy. I can't help it."

"Well, good for you, I guess" Isabela smirked. "Where are you headed?"

"To visit Hawke," Merrill gushed, not noticing how animated her words and gestures became the moment she said the man's name. "I have something to tell him."

Isabela became preoccupied with one of the buckles on her dagger belt. "Tell him what?" she asked, her voice dry.

Merrill hugged herself, "Oh nothing much. Just updating him on a project."

"Varric and Fenris might have mentioned that," Isabela said. "Something about a mirror? You must be making a lot of progress; you and Hawke have been spending a lot of time together lately."

The elf's cheeks turned crimson. Her hands flew up towards her face, actively trying to fan away the heat. "You think so?" she stammered. "It hasn't been that much time really. He's always so busy. But yes, I guess maybe he has been around a bit. He's very helpful. I mean, he's terrifying too, but he has his moments where he's really.… And he knows so much! I never realized he…."

Merrill turned her flushed gaze up to Isabela and realized that her friend's expression had gone blank. The pirate seemed to have stopped listening to her.

"Ah, I'm sorry," the elf giggled, embarrassed. "I'm rambling. Where are you heading?"

"…I need to talk to Hawke as well."

"Really?" Merrill wondered. "What about?

The women had reached the gates of the Amell Estate by the time Merrill asked her question, and Isabela bit the corner of her lip with a frown, as if debating how she wanted to respond.

Keeping an eye on her friend, Merrill lifted her arm to the iron wrought doorknocker. But before she could bring the hammer down, the door was yanked out of her hand.

Hawke's uncle bolted out of the opening. The old man looked paler than usual, and had dark rings under his eyes.

He hardly looked twice at Merrill or Isabela, despite having barreled into them. Instead he just pushed his way clear, and then took off at a stumbling run in the direction from which they had just arrived.

"What was that?" Isabela said, their conversation forgotten.

Merrill wondered the same thing. She peered through estate's front door, concerned.

Hawke and Bodahn were talking in rushed voices at the end of the vestibule. Hawke was dressed in all of his armor and combat clothes, staff in hand despite the time of day.

Merrill thought she heard Bodahn say, "You go help Gamlen look for her, serah. My boy and I will stay here in case she returns."

Hawke said something in response, and then started towards the door. His expression was dark, but distracted. Merrill's heart began beating faster. If she didn't know better she might have thought he looked afraid.

"What's going on?" Isabela leaned over Merrill to ask.

"My mother's missing," he said.

"What?" Merrill didn't understand.

Isabela seemed confused too. "Was she—"

"Stand aside," Hawke demanded, shouldering his way past them over the threshold. "I don't have time to talk."

Marro darted out the door after his master, sticking close to the space around Hawke's legs. The dog's ears were pressed flat against its head.

"Wait!" Merrill called after them. Her feet had begun to follow Hawke even before she'd made the conscious decision to go along. She didn't understand exactly what was happening, but she didn't want him to go on his own. "I'm coming with you!"

"Me too," Isabela agreed, tailing after them both.

Hawke did not acknowledge their words, but he also didn't try to dissuade them.

Just outside the gate, Merrill noticed Aveline and a couple other guards crossing the plaza. The Captain froze when she saw them running out of the estate, her eyes narrowed on Hawke's indiscreet bearing of his mage's staff.

"Aveline!" Merrill called out to her. "Come with us. We need your help!"

The redhead met her gaze and frowned. She exchanged a few brief words with the soldiers that were with her, and then ran after them to catch up.

"What's going on, Merrill?" Aveline hissed once she was close enough to be heard. "And what in Andraste's name is Hawke thinking? He may as well hang an 'apostate' sign around his neck!"

"I don't know," Merrill admitted, trying to remain calm. "I'm not sure what exactly has happened. But I'm pretty sure it's bad."

…

The sun had already begun to set by the time their group managed to find Gamlen. Long, dark, shadows stretched across the city streets, making the area around them feel foreboding and suspect. There was a chill in the air, and perhaps because of it, Lowtown was mostly empty.

The place where they found Gamlen—right at the edge of the Darktown passage—was all but abandoned. Only the old man, and a mousy boy with brown hair and an overbite, could be seen in the torchlight that led to the Underground. Gamlen seemed to be beside himself, yelling at the child, and waving his hands about in the air.

"Uncle," Hawke said as they approached.

Gamlen spun about to face him. "Thank the Maker, you're finally here," the old man snarled.

The boy he was talking to eyed their group warily. Merrill could tell by his threadbare clothes and the hollows of his cheeks that the child was an urchin. He felt her eyes on him, and shot her a petulant look.

"Somebody please explain what is going on," Aveline demanded, stepping forward.

Hawke's uncle ignored her, still speaking to his nephew alone. "This brat knows something!" the old man said. "But he won't open his miserable mouth!"

Without a word, Hawke lifted his hand. Merrill felt the air twist around him, and then the boy was hurled backwards off his feet, thrown full force into the stone wall behind him by Hawke's concentrated Mindblast.

"Hawke!" Aveline yelped, grabbing the man's forearm. "Such excessive force is not necessary to—"

Hawke shook off her hand, and strode up to where the boy was struggling to rise.

Marro was already circling the child, fangs beared. The boy cowered away from the war-dog's teeth, clinging to the wall as he pulled himself up onto shaking legs. Hawke did the work for him—grabbing the boy by his collar, and lifting him a good two feet into the air.

"You saw my mother?" Hawke asked, his voice low.

"I-I dunno jack about your mother," the boy mumbled, eyes flashing about as he tried to avoid Hawke's intimidating scowl, "But I saw a lady. I think s-she might've been an Amell, like 'e asked for." The boy jerked his head towards Gamlen. "She was wearing the ol' crest."

"Where was she headed?" Hawke demanded. "Who was she with?"

"I-I dunno where they was headed," the boy frowned.

Hawke's grip tightened on the boy's shirt, and the urchin gulped. "T-the man," the boy continued, grasping for some scrap of information that might get him out of trouble. "Uhh… 'e was t-tallish. And 'e had…um…hair?"

"Do not make me kill you," Hawke said, his eye narrowed.

"Hawke!" Aveline yelled.

The boy squirmed in Hawke's grip. "'E looked injured," the boy yipped. His fear seemed to clear his memory. "The man did! 'E was bleeding! She didn't seem like she knew who 'e was, but I saw 'er help him."

"Leandra did?" Gamlen scoffed.

The old man didn't seem like he believed the boy, and Merrill thought she understood why. Hawke's mother had been more or less catatonic since Carver had died. She almost never left the house, so far as Merrill knew, and when she did, either Gamlen or her remaining son was always with her. It was difficult to imagine the frail woman finding herself in a situation where she would be alone in the city, much less in the presence of mind to offer a stranger aid.

"She did, I swear!" the boy insisted. "I'm rememberin' better now, and they went…" he paused, craning his pinned neck to look neck up and down the alley. "They went that way." He pointed away from Darktown, and off toward the docks. "I think."

Hawke whistled, and Marro snapped to attention. With nothing more than a nod from his master, the mabari ran off in the direction the boy had indicated. It wasn't long before Merrill and the rest of them heard the beast's confirmatory bark.

The boy fell into an unceremonious heap at Hawke's feet when the man released him. The child was up and scrambling away into the Underground's tunnel faster than Merrill would have believed, but Hawke didn't seem to care.

Instead he went after Marro, and they all followed in the growing gloom. The dog had stopped along the edge of the cobblestone path, his black nose pointed at several drops of crimson on the grey stone. Hawke knelt to examine them, his expression dark.

"Is that blood there?" Gamlen asked, stretching his neck over his nephew's shoulders to see.

"I don't like this," Hawke said, rising back to his feet. He turned to his uncle. "Go home."

"But—"

"Now." Hawke's voice didn't rise, but there was an edge to it that made Gamlen flinch. Merrill's own heartbeat was racing, and beside her she could see dread on Isabela and Aveline's faces too.

"Fine," Gamlen muttered, seeming to pick up on the party's mood. "But if Leandra's been hurt, I hope you show the bastard no mercy."

The vein in Hawke's neck twitched, and he spun on his heel, leaving them in the dusk.

Merrill heard Isabela grumble under her breath, "I don't think you'll have to worry about that."