Author's note: Thanks, as ever, to the awesomely-excellent clafount. You should really check out her work!

The twins hadn't left Gamlen's house in seven days. It had taken three of those for them to recover from wounds they'd earned from carving their way out of the Red Iron, with a trail of bodies in their wake. Bethany still wasn't sure exactly what had happened, only that Carver had shaken her awake in the small hours one morning, with a sack over his shoulder and too much crimson on his plate. The halls had been filled with angry shouting and acrid hints of smoke from spells that the older mage, Tobrius, was flinging to keep the rest of the mercenaries from their door. The two mages, the warrior, and the mabari had cut a swathe through the barracks, laying waste to two-thirds of the men and women who called it home on their way. Tobrius left the siblings at Gamlen's doorstep, though he promised to one day return.

Aveline visited not long after, while the twins were still recuperating, but Carver refused to say anything and none of the surviving mercenaries seemed apt to cooperate with her investigation. So, with no evidence, the captain-in-training left the Hawkes with a stern warning that murder was still a crime in Kirkwall, and asked them to keep themselves under wraps for at least a week. So they idled in the cramped Lowtown hovel with their mother, while Gamlen spent most of his time out, doing Maker-knew-what. At least Bethany had salvaged a few of the books she'd found the most useful, but she took care to keep those hidden, lest her uncle try to pawn them off for a few silvers.

What little time she'd spent in the man's company over the past two years convinced Bethany that he was the least-trustworthy person she could imagine. Whenever she tried to ask him about her grandparents, or the estate that they once owned, he got moody and evasive. So it was a surprise when, that evening, he called the young Hawkes into the large common room upon his return.

"I've been keeping my ear to the ground," he told them, his tone oddly jovial. "I think I might have something for the pair of you. A job, I mean."

Carver raised an eyebrow. "Signed us up to start at the Rose to settle a debt?" It was an open secret that Gamlen spent much of his 'free time' at the establishment.

The older man blanched, or would've done, if his face were clean enough to notice. "Andraste's ass, boy, listen to me. You need work and I've got a line on how to get it. If you'd step two feet out of my house once in awhile, you'd have heard of it by now, yourself. Almost everyone in Lowtown knows about it, so I've nothing to gain...except some peace and quiet."

Bethany spoke up. "If you have any information, Uncle, we'd appreciate it." What coin they'd scraped together from their service, and stole at its end, wouldn't last them long now that they'd have to deal with the templars on their own.

"There's a couple of dwarves in Hightown who're looking to go into the Deep Roads," Gamlen informed them. "Rumour has it they need people of skill to keep them safe from the darkspawn."

A gasp sounded from the bedroom Gamlen shared with his sister. "Oh, Maker," Leandra lamented. "Why does it have to be more darkspawn?" The mage shared a look with her mother; it was nearly two years since Cethlenn left them, but the wound was still fresh in Leandra's soul. Bethany still missed her sister, as well.

Carver didn't seem eager to jump at the opportunity, either. "What are they hoping to find down there?"

"How the blazes should I know that, boy?" Gamlen threw up his hands. "Word's out that a shortman called Bartrand is looking for a few hands to take him where he and his brother want to go, and get them back in one piece." It was to the older man's credit, perhaps, that he didn't back down at the stare Carver gave him. The warrior had put on a lot of muscle in the last couple of years.

"I imagine there's treasure down there," Bethany murmured, half to herself. Her voice seemed to cut the tension in the air, and everyone looked at her. "Well, the darkspawn aren't exactly pawnbrokers," she went on. "The histories say that dwarven kingdoms spanned Thedas, beneath the ground, before the Blights started." The mage shrugged. "Perhaps this Bartrand fellow just wants a chance to reclaim some history."

Gamlen snorted. "Wants to get himself enough gold to bathe in virgins' blood, more like." The man shook his head. "All that matters is that he hasn't left yet, and there may be some work for the pair of you. Out of this house, and out of the city. Surely that's got to be worth going to the Merchants' Guild."

"Why," Carver gruffed, "that almost sounded thoughtful." He threw his twin a look, and when she nodded slightly, his face set. "Alright," he relented. "Let me get dressed..."

Despite the notoriety it would bring, or perhaps because of it, Carver decided to traipse up the cliff into Hightown in his dragon armour. Bethany and Barcus strode beside him; the mage had resewn her red chainmail into clothes of white and blue, and she took care to plant her staff with every step, mindful of how thin the pretense of using a walking stick must seem. Nevertheless, Aveline's guards gave them a wide-enough berth, and no templars came rushing from the white-flagstoned alleyways as the siblings navigated the wealthy quarter of the city.

Their first stop was the bustling market square, which was itself nearly the size of Lothering. The only dwarf they knew was a runecrafter by the name of Worthy, who operated a stall on the edge of the marketplace. Both Bethany and Carver had been tasked with trucking with him during their stint in the Red Iron. Fortunately, his red-brown beard twitched with a smile when he caught sight of them.

"Hawke," the dwarf called. "And Beth! I'm surprised to see you two. Heard somebody tore through the Red Iron like it was a paper dragon," he said, chuckling. "I never thought anybody'd show Meeran to his grave."

Bethany caught the shadow which passed over Carver's expression, and her curiosity nearly got the better of her, but he spoke first. "We made it out," he offered. "Been lying low for a few days, but it should be safe enough."

The crafter whistled, clearly impressed. "If there was anyone I'd say could carve their way out of an ambush, it'd be you two," he commented. "It must be harder to get by now, though, for a couple of dog lords." Barcus whined from Bethany's side, and Worthy shook his head. "This one's always hungry," he grunted, but fished around in his pocket for some jerky, all the same. He tossed it, and the dog had it snapped up half a heartbeat later. "But that's all you're getting," the dwarf warned. "Merchants gotta eat, too, you know."

"That's actually what we were after," Bethany broke in, a smile on her lips for the first time in more than a week. She'd always liked bringing Barcus to see the dwarf. "We've heard tell of an operation being put together by a dwarf called Bartrand."

Worthy cocked a brow at her. "And you're wondering if I can get you in on it?" He played at looking offended. "Do all of us look alike to you sodding sky-eaters?"

"Oh, come off it," Carver sighed, smirking. "We know all you beardies stick together like honey rolls."

Worthy's cool facade broke into a grin, but before he could continue the banter, Bethany spoke up again. "If you've heard of the man, or anything about the venture, we'd be terribly grateful, messere."

The dwarf looked from the mage to her dog and back again. "Grateful enough to bring the mutt back to steal some more of my jerky sometime?"

Bethany suppressed a giggle. "Of course," she assured him.

"Great," he replied. "In that case, the guy you're looking for is holed up in the Merchants' Guild."

Carver rolled his eyes. "We knew that already."

"You want my help or not, topsider?" There was just a bit less patience in Worthy's voice. When no answer was forthcoming, he continued. "Like I said, Bartrand's set up in the Guild, in an office pavilion that he runs the family businesses from. Sodding blighter's got gold hair and two short beard-braids, with a bristle chin in between." Compared to Worthy's neck-warmer, the dwarf in question was practically bald. "Don't tell him I sent you, though."

"Thank you, messere," Bethany said. That was definitely enough information to help them along.

Just as they turned to go, Worthy spoke up again. "Take care, Hawkes. Don't get dead."

The twins both waved their goodbyes, and set off to find the dwarf of the hour. The Dwarven Merchants' Guild stood on a raised level behind market, ringed with enormous statues of the stout folk nearly ten metres high. Bethany imagined the sight would be far more intimidating in the deep darkness beneath the ground, but the finely-crafted marble gleamed in the sunlight, and everything about the district seemed breathtakingly beautiful after so long cooped-up in Lowtown. It didn't take them long to find a pavilion with a dwarf who matched Worthy's description.

And it didn't take them long to know why the runecrafter didn't want his name aired. "What do you want?" The dwarf behind the table spat, as though they were tax collectors, before either of them could speak.

The mage deferred to her brother, put off by the stranger's temperament. "We want in on your enterprise," Carver blurted out. "To the Deep Roads."

The dwarf drew up, sucking in a breath. He topped out near Bethany's sternum, and spent almost a full minute looking the both of them up and down. His expression went from bad to worse, and a growl started from his chest, so low that Bethany felt it in the soles of her feet. "No," he barked, cutting the growl off abruptly.

Carver's mouth opened, but hardly a sound came out. Anger leeched into his face. "What do you mean, no?"

"I don't need a couple of kids skulking around my expedition," the dwarf answered.

"But we have skills, and experience!" Carver gestured, perhaps unconsciously, to the outline of the dragon splashed across his chest.

The dwarf, whom Bethany presumed was Bartrand, literally spat at their feet. "Ancestors' tits, human! No!"

Bethany swallowed her discomfort. "But...we've fought darkspawn before," she pointed out.

"So've half of the refugees in this dump," the dwarf countered. "I know you're lookin' for an easy way out of the slums, but this ain't your meal ticket."

Carver had a different tactic to try, apparently. "Can't we at least buy you a drink, first?"

The dwarf's eyes widened for a brief moment, before he squinted at them again. "Sod off," he said at last. "Before I get you ejected from the square." Short and unarmed the man might be, but he obviously carried some influence with his fellows in the guild.

With a defeated sigh, Carver turned and marched halfway across the plaza. Bethany had to trot to keep up with him. "What are we going to do," she wondered. "That expedition was our only chance!"

The warrior was fuming, but his expression softened when he caught sight of his sister. "We'll...figure something out," he managed. "We've made a name for ourselves, these last two years. It can't all have been for nothing." Bethany was about to reply, when a stranger suddenly collided with Carver. "Watch out," he growled, pushing the boy away. Two steps later, the mage saw her brother pawing at his belt. "Hey!"

They both turned to give chase to the thief, but before they broke into a run, the red-haired lad slammed up against a wall from an unseen force. Bethany stopped short; she hadn't sensed magic, but she was wary, just in case. The mystery was solved, however, when a beardless dwarf in a leather duster sauntered up to the boy. "I knew a pickpocket once who could take all the coin from your pockets just by smiling at you," he boasted. "But you? You don't have the style to work Hightown, let alone the Merchants' Guild." The dwarf slugged the thief and took possession of Carver's coin purse. With a further yank at the boy's shoulder, the dwarf reclaimed a crossbow bolt, while the boy fled.

The dwarf turned toward the Hawkes, casually twirling the bolt in one hand while he weighed the purse in the other. "How do you do?" He asked them, tossing the leather bag in Carver's direction. "Varric Tethras, at your service." Then he unshouldered the fanciest-looking crossbow Bethany had ever seen, taking care to replace the bolt in what looked like the body of the device.

Carver didn't seem to know what to think of the man. "I...guess I should say thank you," he said at last, refastening his purse more securely onto his belt. "But why should I know you?"

"Because you were just haggling with my brother," Varric informed them. "Quite poorly, I might add. No offence."

Bethany stepped in, before Carver decided to take offence anyway. "He seemed set on denying us the work," she said. "Even though we know what we're doing."

The dwarf breathed a long, low sigh, his brow creasing. "Bartrand wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw," he lamented. Then his expression brightened. "I, however, am quite practical." His eyes settled on Carver. "With a man like you, we could get this operation into the ground in no time. You've built quite the reputation," he observed.

Carver swallowed, looking slightly embarrassed, even though he'd said much the same thing not half an hour before. "I...well, you must've heard of Bethany, too."

Varric threw a glance her way. "A little," he conceded, "but the name 'Hawke' is on many lips these days, and she's not the reason for that."

Bethany felt a flush rising along her cheeks. "That's quite alright," she assured her brother. "We don't want me getting too much attention, now do we?"

That brought Carver to his senses. "Right." His brows knitted. "What exactly are you proposing, serah?"

Varric scratched at his chest-his luxuriously-hairy chest, Bethany noted, not unpleasantly. "Bartrand's been trying to get this expedition moving for over a year now. He's nearly torn his beard out trying to fund the thing; he's called in every favour he thinks he can get away with, but he just can't do it." The dwarf shook his head. "There're plenty of knuckle-heads around to hire, but there's no guarantee of return, so we're taking on the risk of paying them ourselves."

The warrior nodded. "I guess I can understand that," he conceded. "But it doesn't sound like an offer."

The dwarf waved him off. "We don't need another hireling," he explained. "We need a partner. Invest in the expedition," he cajoled them. "Fifty sovereigns and you're good to go. Bartrand can't refuse that offer-not with me there to vouch for you."

Bethany couldn't keep herself from snarking a laugh. "If we had that kind of coin, messere, we wouldn't need to hire on to the expedition in the first place."

A gleam entered Varric's eye that didn't quite settle well with her. "You aren't thinking long-term," he pointed out, and his gaze pivoted to the red staff in her grasp. "Someone in your position in this city needs more than a bit of coin to keep breathing free air." He put up his hands when he saw the flash of panic in her face. "All I'm saying is that this expedition could set you and your family up for life. You could move into Hightown, grease the right wheels, set yourselves up a nice, plum existence."

Carver gave a thoughtful hmm. "You just said that there wasn't a guarantee," he shot back at the dwarf.

"In business, there never is," Varric replied. "Anyone who tells you any differently is selling something you don't want to buy." He shrugged. "Think of it as a golden opportunity, instead. After a Blight, there's only a brief window when the Deep Roads won't already be picked over, or crawling with darkspawn. That window's closing fast, however, and if we don't get moving we'll wind up with a fancy expedition and nowhere to go."

Bethany saw that her brother was being won over. He glanced at her, concern tinging his face. "What do you think, Beth?"

"I think we should take it," she answered, almost immediately. Her words surprised her, but they kept coming, seemingly of their own accord. "Better to go into the Deep Roads than sit around waiting to get thrown into the Gallows," she reasoned. "And at least I can fight darkspawn."

Carver inclined his head. "I guess you're right," he conceded. "But," he said, turning back to Varric. "It's all moot, anyhow. You felt my purse...we don't have anything near fifty sovs."

The dwarf's smile was oily enough to start a fire. "That's because you're not connected to the right people," he claimed. "Kirkwall's crawling with work, if you know where to look. And that's where I come in."

"If you know where the money is," Carver interjected, "why haven't you got it already?"

Varric's brows rose. "Me? I'm just a businessman," he demurred.

Bethany nodded to the crossbow he'd put behind his shoulder. "I doubt that petty thief would say the same," she pointed out.

"Okay," Varric relented. "I'm a businessman who occasionally shoots people." He unshouldered his weapon, keeping it pointed low. "Say hello to Bianca."

Carver snickered. "You named your crossbow?"

The dwarf looked offended for an instant. "She and I have a business relationship," he informed them. "If you think you need me to finish a job, I'd be delighted to bring her along. Otherwise I'll be in my room at the Hanged Man," he said, referencing a large pub-and-inn in Lowtown where the bottom four-fifths of Kirkwall society congregated. "You should look me up there if you go more than a couple of days without seeing me."

"Hold a moment," Bethany piped up. "We haven't worked out any terms, really."

"Ah," Varric replied, looking honestly sheepish. "Right. Like I said, I can shake out my contacts for odd jobs. I don't care about a finder's fee, but you should keep aside some coin from each job, and you'll have the fifty sovereigns in a matter of weeks."

Carver picked up where his sister had left off. "And say we invest the money. What can we expect from it?"

"My brother and I are partners," Varric explained, collapsing and shouldering Bianca. "Real partners, I mean. If you put up the money, you two'll become a third equal partner, and we'll split whatever we find three ways. The money for the excavators and guards is what you'll be contributing, so even if we don't find anything down there, you won't lose anything more than the fifty you put in." Carver gave one last look to Bethany, and when she nodded, he extended his hand. Varric took it with obvious relief. "Now, where do we go, Hawke?"

Carver's brow drew down. "I thought that was your end of the bargain," he growled.

"It is, it is," Varric assured them. "But if either of you get any offers, I'm willing to help out with them, too. Same terms."

Bethany sucked at her bottom lip. "Maybe Aveline has some more work for us," she mused.

The mage knew that was the wrong suggestion almost at once. "I wouldn't take anything from her if she offered to suck my-" He stopped short, blushing furiously, and turned away. "She's the reason why we're here, anyhow," he finished.

"Well," Bethany ventured, "she did try to help us last year, with that trip near Sundermount."

"Wait," Varric interrupted. "You're saying you're on personal terms with Aveline? The Aveline?" When Bethany nodded, he went on. "Guard-Captain Aveline?"

"Right," Carver barked, still turned away from them. "She came over with us, and did some time in the Red Iron, too. Then the bitch turned me down when I applied for a post, even though I helped her become the bloody captain in the first place."

Bethany suddenly remembered that night all too well, and she got a hollow feeling in her stomach. "And we still have business out in Sundermount," she said lightly.

Carver turned back around, then, all the colour gone from his face. "That's right," he agreed. "Do you...think it's too late?"

"Better late than never," Bethany observed.

Varric cleared his throat. "Uh...are you two going to start making sense?"

Bethany blinked and shook her head to clear it. "We...made a promise, to get here," she explained. "We were to deliver an amulet to the Dalish elves camped out on Sundermount, but we haven't got the chance, with one thing and another."

"Do you think they're even there?" Carver looked from his sister to the dwarf and back again.

"Oh, they're there, all right," Varric confirmed. "Those deer-things they keep ran away from them. Without those guys, they don't have anything to drag their landships around, so they're stuck." At the humans' incredulous looks, he laughed. "What? It's my business to know these kinds of things."

Carver gave Bethany another look. "Do you still have it?"

The mage's heart pounded. "I think so," she answered. "It's in the bottom of my trunk." The false bottom, she thought to herself, but didn't want to risk airing that, even here.

Her brother glanced over his shoulder to the dwarf. "Feel like taking a side-trip to Lowtown, and then a hike in the hills?"

Varric's lips curled into a cunning smirk. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Hawke. You can tell me about how you all came over here on the way."