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Name Your Price

Corvis yawned, crossing his arms behind his head.

He could feel shafts of early morning sunlight beaming into the room, settling in patches on his skin where the blankets didn't cover. Heaving a lazy breath, he crooked one leg up and shifted a bit in the bed, reluctant to force his eyes open.

"Corvis," River said in a singsong manner—sounding utterly too cheerful for the hour it probably was—as she smoothed her hand along his bare chest. "Up and at 'em, sleepy. I can hear the others moving around in the main room."

"Offer them my congratulations for having the motivation to move," he said, a half grin tweaking the corner of his mouth.

"Grump." River chuckled lightly, her fingers skimming up his neck and to his jaw. "C'mon. I know it's early, but you want to beat the darkspawn, don't you?"

"Si, si," he said, yawning again. "Into a pulp. With a rake. In approximately five hours."

"Mmh, sounds like fun." She planted her hands on his chest and slowly pressed her mouth to his in a soft kiss; Corvis reached up to thread his fingers through her soft hair, opening his eyes only when she pulled away.

She propped herself up on one arm, barely covered by blankets and unashamed of her own nakedness. Her thick hair, black as ink and glossy, spilled over one shoulder, and she watched him with deep peacock-green eyes that were slightly hooded with early morning sleepiness.

Tired still, he skimmed the backs of his fingers against her side, the curve of her breast, feeling the softness of her ivory skin. She bit her lower lip and smiled saucily at him, raking her eyes over his form.

"Got you to open your eyes," she said triumphantly.

He grinned, chuckling. "The view was worth it."

"You're not bad yourself, gorgeous." River traced a meaningless pattern on his abdomen with her index finger. "Whatever you took or did to make yourself a Grey Warden…does it give you crazy amounts of stamina or something? I'm beat."

"I'm starting to think so," he said. Not that he didn't know what he was doing in bed—far from it—but…merda. If River could still walk this morning, he'd consider it good fortune. "Duncan never explained the full logistics of the Joining to us, which is frustrating; I'd much prefer to know exactly what I got myself into."

But it was obviously too late for answers.

"Not a fan of surprises, eh?" she said.

He shook his head. Not ones like that; not the surprises that involved ingesting some foreign substance that tasted absolutely foul and waking up with some sort of changed body. He considered himself fairly adaptable, but it was hard to analyze a situation and predict its outcome when the nature of it was still largely unknown.

He'd practically eaten buckets of stew last night, too. He felt ravenous, and more-than-uncomfortably jittery; something was fucking with his metabolism.

"Then don't tell Carver about this," she continued. "Unless you fancy a surprise fist to the face."

"Don't worry," Corvis said with a grin, holding his hand up and flaring his fingers; fire briefly flickered in his palm. "I'm decently fist-proof."

Not that he needed to be. Carver wasn't stupid, but anyone could be tricked with the right amount of effort. Corvis's full Antivan blood and upbringing in the neighborhoods of Rialto easily afforded him many things, including the ability to lie. When he felt like it.

"Well. Don't be too cocky—I wouldn't want to see anything happen to that pretty face of yours if you were wrong." River snickered at the word cocky, reaching down to squeeze his inner thigh over a thin film of sheets.

He smirked. "I'm rarely wrong."

"Oh, you're cute." She pushed her hair behind her shoulders. "What am I thinking about, Oh Omniscient One?"

"Hmm." He watched where her eyes flickered. "You're considering getting dressed, but you don't exactly want to. Although the smell of eggs cooking is starting to tempt you."

"Damn," she said, whistling. "You're good."

He laughed mildly in response.

"And we do need to get up," she added. "I know it's really fucking early, and it's probably cold as balls outside, but you Wardens need to get on your way. You've got a world to save."

Corvis almost bristled at the phrase. World to save; he'd never wanted to be any sort of hero. Heroes didn't habitually lie, test the bonds of authority, best their superiors, take women to bed without any commitment behind it.

"And I suppose the darkspawn wouldn't respect a request for enough time to drink coffee," he said, sitting up, his muscles aching pleasantly from last night's…activities.

"Maybe if you ask nicely enough," she teased. "I—"

The door in the house's main room slammed open, and Corvis heard feet patter into the threshold.

"They're on the horizon!" Shesi's unmistakable voice yelled, ringing through the house's wooden walls. River sat up straight, her face paling. "We need to get ready to go!"

"Corvis—" River said.

He was up on his feet before she could finish the sentence, hurriedly yanking on clothing and straightening them as best he could. Armor, armor…no, Leliana had left that somewhere in the village Chantry, damn it all. He and Ellie would have to survive armor-less and staff-less for the time being.

"Go," River urged him, buttoning her tunic. "I'll be right behind you in a minute."

"Be careful," he said, then shoved the door open and ran into the main room of the small house.

Shesi was still in the room, peering out the front door with a grave look on her face, and there was Leliana helping Carver buckle the straps on his rough leather armor; Leandra Amell was rushing to stuff food and supplies into sacks, her graying hair falling over her forehead. Ellie was stooped over by the mantle, lacing up her boots with fumbling fingers, and Palla was—

Palla?

"Corvis," the warrior breathed, glancing over at him as she rushed to bind her apple-red hair in a sloppy bun. "I'd hug you and greet you properly, but we obviously don't have time for that."

"Are we truly leaving everyone here to fend for themselves?" Ellie asked, straightening.

"You have to get packed up and go," River insisted, skidding into the room after Corvis. She had two daggers at her belt, but very little armor—unprotected. She'd either have to dodge blows, or take a fatal one. "Carver, Bethany and I can hold off as many as we can, but..."

Carver spotted River and Corvis, looking them over suspiciously. If he noted them coming out of the same room at different times, and if he'd mused over them both disappearing from the group chatting last night...he didn't say as much. Corvis suspected there was more on his mind, that he was probably more concerned with the darkspawn than his elder sister's exploits.

For the moment.

"But you shouldn't stay and find out how many you can hold off," Alistair insisted, jogging into the room in full armor.

Alistair? Yes, that made sense. Palla wouldn't have survived and left him behind. She wasn't like that.

Wanting to see the arising situation for himself, Corvis stepped outside, fire reacting to his tension and licking thinly up his wrists.

It seemed Shesi had spotted the darkspawn on the horizon, and not overwhelming Lothering like he'd previously assumed. He inwardly thanked her sharp elven eyesight for allowing them a bit of breathing room. Her yell must have alerted the townsfolk to the problem, if the ugly dark grey stain on the horizon hadn't alerted them instead; people ran about in a collective tizzy, children screaming and crying, footfalls pounding in the wet mud and grass.

The Chantry had already been swarmed. It seemed some of the villagers, assuming some faraway Maker would protect them, had gotten the idea to rush into the Chantry rather than flee. Others still were trying to get out of the building, and the doorway looked like a narrow spit of land with two opposite streams converging on it.

You have a world to save, River had said.

He wouldn't. Not here. Standing against the darkspawn in Lothering would be a martyr's act.

"I'd rather make sure no one tries to just hunker down and hide," Palla said from behind him, abruptly joining him outside, "but look at the Chantry…"

"What's that?" Corvis asked, pointing elsewhere.

There, the edge of town. He must not have spotted it on his way in, but there was a tall iron cage stranded upright at the outskirts of the grass field, and the unmistakable form of a person inside it.

"Maker," Palla said. "Corvis, we need to see who that is."

"Palla—"

"You can 'Palla' me later. Right now I want to make sure people have a way to escape, at the very least. Come with me, please? I might need your help if there's trouble."

She took off at a run.

Corvis decided to follow her, for the hell of it. Someone with Palla's let's-save-everyone-ever complex was bound to get themselves killed, and even though Corvis usually gave less than zero fucks about someone running to their own doom…bah, he wasn't going to finish that thought.

Her persimmon hair was a vivid beacon even in the thick early morning fog, the bouncy motion of her run making it loosen just a bit from its messy bun. Even if she managed to outrun him—unlikely, with her armor weighing her down—the slapping of her sword's sheath against her thigh was loud enough to follow.

Where had her shield gone? Lost in the tussle of Ostagar, probably.

"The fuck…?" Palla said, hushed, as she slowed to a stop near the iron cage.

Corvis had read about Qunari, but never had the luxury of seeing a Qunari warrior before.

The books in Kinloch Hold's library hadn't kidded about their size. This Qunari man was easily a solid foot taller than Corvis, who wasn't short by any means. His roughspun tunic did little to hide the iron muscles bulging under dark grey skin, and his hair was strikingly white, braided in an unfamiliar fashion in rows along his head. Hornless, though—didn't the books say Qunari usually had horns protruding from their skulls? Interesting.

"Shok ebasit hissra," the man was murmuring. "Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun."

"Hey," Palla said, as Corvis came to a stop next to her. She took a step towards the cage, casting a quick glance towards the grey cloud of approaching darkspawn on the horizon. "Who put you in here? What did you do?"

The Qunari turned to look at them with deep-set eyes the color of lavender petals. Not the most masculine of colors for such a hulking warrior, Corvis noted.

"You gawk," the Qunari grunted at Palla, clearly unamused. "I will not amuse you any more than I have the other humans. Leave me in peace."

"In peace?" Palla squawked. She pointed. "Look at that horde of darkspawn coming up the road! They'll reach Lothering within half an hour."

"Yes. I am not blind to the world directly around me, human."

Palla blew upwards, fluffing a strand of red hair out of her face.

"Who are you, soldier?" Corvis asked, trying the more direct approach. Perhaps the Qunari favored straightforwardness. "Identify yourself."

Purple eyes shifted to Corvis. "I am Sten of the Beresaad, vanguard of the Qunari peoples."

"Corvis Nalida da Rialto, formerly of Kinloch Hold," he replied, half-bowing. "A pleasure."

Palla looked at him funny.

"You mock me," Sten said. "Or you show manners I have not come to expect in your lands. Though it matters little now. I will die this morning."

"You—" Palla started.

"Identify your reasons for being in this cage," Corvis said, keeping his voice level and flat. "Including who imprisoned you in here."

Sten's gaze drilled into him, unwavering. "I see no reason to indulge your question."

"I see no reason for you not to. I've asked nothing odd or obtuse."

"This is true." The Qunari nodded once. "I have been convicted of murder and placed here by the Chantry. Have the villagers not spoken of this?"

"Are you guilty of this murder?" Corvis asked.

Palla shot him a choice 'why are you doing this?' look; clearly she was itching to get back to being the village hero, having discovered that the inhabitant of the cage was probably a murderer and wasn't too keen on getting out of punishment. Corvis had other ideas.

"Yes," Sten said. "The people of a farmhold. Eight humans, in addition to the children. My life is forfeit now. Death will be my atonement."

"Children…" Palla whispered, looking queasy.

If every murderer ended up dead or behind bars, Antiva would be a deserted wasteland. Tragic, maybe, but such was life. Corvis was much more interested in enlisting help for the Wardens' cause.

He stood firm, holding the Qunari's gaze. "There are other, more just ways to atone for your crimes and your guilt. Death is a quick escape from it. There are more darkspawn than the ones coming up the road, and we Grey Wardens have been tasked with stopping the Blight before it swallows Ferelden. Fight under our command instead. You're a soldier. You understand the merit of it."

He couldn't see Palla directly—since he was looking at Sten—but her gaze felt like it could burn down a mid-sized city by now.

"I have heard of the Grey Wardens," the warrior said. "Fighting amongst the Wardens seems as likely to bring my death as remaining in here."

Tricky, but that was an acquiescence to Corvis's trained ears. He turned to Palla. "We don't have time to go convince the Revered Mother to give us a key. Break the lock."

"I don't like disobeying the Chantry, but…" Palla looked rapidly in each direction. No doubt she could hear villagers scurrying around Lothering, just as Corvis could. "...alright." She deftly unsheathed her sword and slammed its pommel into the cage's iron lock. No doubt the iron was rusty, much like everything else in this swamp-town; four quick slams of the sword's pommel had it popping open and clattering to the ground.

"Maker," Palla said again, stepping back. The cage's door swung open.

"So be it," Sten said, stepping out. His muscles looked stiff, his eyes sunken; he'd gone a while in there for certain. "I will follow you against the Blight, where you lead. Let us not tarry."

"Right this way," Corvis said, gesturing.

"Take care of yourself, alright?" River said, taking hold of Ellie's shoulders and shaking her gently. "Promise me."

"I'll try," Ellie said, biting her tongue and turning her head to scan Lothering for Corvis and Palla.

She had about a hundred and one emotions swirling around in her head right now. Most of them revolved around sharp fear and distress; the horizon's dark grey tinge of approaching darkspawn, a tinge that grew in mass with every minute and was starting to take form, made her nearly shake in her boots. Joining the Wardens and leaving Kinloch Hold was supposed to be a new start for her life, if not just an escape from the Rite of Tranquility…but instead of healing behind the lines like she knew how to do, she'd been thrust headfirst into a nightmare instead.

Not to mention that even with the looming darkspawn threat, she couldn't get her stupid mind off Corvis.

Realizing he'd slept with River last night had hit her like a punch in the gut. She wasn't stupid. She'd noticed them disappear together last night. And she'd known somewhat about his flirty reputation back in the Circle, but…maybe she'd just assumed both of them joining the Wardens would've brought them closer by now.

Or maybe it was bad to be so heartsick. Maker knew she had it easier than the others. Palla had lost her parents not too long ago, and couldn't locate her elder brother. Shesi had been booted out of her clan after losing a loved one to Blight-sickness. Alistair was freshly grieving Duncan's loss.

"That's not a promise, luv." River shook her a bit harder. "If I could join you Wardens, I would. But I…" She cast a long glance sideways. "I need to keep my family safe. I think Mum is just about packed up by now."

Ellie bit her lip, feeling abruptly childish. River was a beautiful woman, kind, skilled and tenacious; she shouldn't fault Corvis for being attracted to her last night. Besides—it was just that. A night. There would be many more of those, right?

This was the kind of time in her life that needed optimism, not hopelessness.

"You're so much better at keeping everyone safe," Ellie said. "I'm scared I won't be able to."

"No, you listen to me." River bent, putting herself at eye level with Ellie. Her eyes were so pretty up close—such a lovely deep color. "I don't know a lot about the Wardens, but you wouldn't be in this group if you didn't have skill. You wouldn't have survived Ostagar. You're going to keep each and every one of these crazy bastards alive, I just know it."

Ellie's eyes watered. "I'll do my best."

"And you make sure you take care of yourself, too. You're sweet. Don't let this bullshit break you." The black-haired rogue straightened, giving Ellie one last squeeze on the shoulders.

Alistair jogged out of the house, all a clanking of armor, ushering Bethany and Leandra out past him. Carver followed last, a sour but obviously distressed look on his face.

A crow landed in a tree above them, pitch black against the light grey morning mist, looking down at them with beady eyes.

"Looks like we're off," River said, glancing at each of her family members in turn. "I, um…tell Corvis goodbye for me, alright? And Palla."

"I will," Ellie promised.

"Maker go with you," Alistair said sincerely. "If we ever get the chance to repay you…"

"Just save the world," River said, thumping Alistair's shoulder with the flat of her palm. "That should do it, don't you think?"

"We owe you the world," Shesi said from next to Ellie, who bit back a squeak; she hadn't heard Shesi step up next to her. "You saved my life. I won't forget that."

"Would've saved anyone's, you know?" Carver grunted, scrubbing the back of his neck, his face reddening as he looked quickly down at Shesi and then away.

Bethany found Leliana and gave her a tight hug, which Leliana returned; both women squeezed each other in a snug embrace for a long moment.

"Take care, dears," Leandra said, her jaw tight. "Bless you. Bless you all."

And then, just like that, the Hawke family was hurrying away, leaving Ellie to watch them uncertainly and wait for someone else to tell her what to do.

"I haven't seen Palla come back," Alistair mentioned. "I'm going to go look for her."

"I'm certain she will be back in no time," Leliana said. "But I will help you look, if you like."

"Very appreciated," Alistair said.

The two of them jogged off, in the direction Palla and Corvis had gone.

"You all packed, Ellie?" Shesi said after a moment. "We need to regroup and move."

Ellie nodded, her throat tight, and she bounced nervously on the balls of her feet. "Everyone's trying to hide in the Chantry, aren't they? I feel like we should—"

"What? Save them all?" Shesi said. She turned, swiveling to face Ellie. "Listen to me. If we stick around here too much longer, try to organize some big evacuation or something, then what? Some of the people would start looking to us for guidance. Following us up the road. Depending on us for safety. Others—well, they'd think we're mad and resist. We'd spend time we don't have trying to coax them into leaving."

"Finally, a voice of reason amongst all of these mindless heroics," Morrigan said.

Morrigan?!

Ellie sputtered, turning swiftly to see if her ears had misled her. But no—there was the ebon-haired witch in her same scarlet and black handmade robes, a bored look on her face.

"Yes?" Morrigan said. "Does my appearance frighten you, little elf?"

"I, for one, am glad to see you," Shesi said, looking no more than mildly surprised by Morrigan's sudden appearance. "See, Ellie, here's the thing—if we try to be heroes here, and we end up getting swamped by the darkspawn…Ferelden pays the price."

Ellie could, in truth, admit to a certain amount of uncertainty around Morrigan. Especially since she'd honestly thought they would never encounter the witch again after their jaunt through the Korcari Wilds. Morrigan certainly hadn't come to Lothering with her and Corvis, and she probably hadn't accompanied Shesi; she'd either joined Palla and Alistair, or arrived on her own.

She'd have her answer in a moment, it seemed. There was Palla and Corvis returning now, with Alistair and Leliana in tow, and—oh my.

Ellie had never seen such a massive person in her life.

What—what race was he? He couldn't be human, no way. She wanted to ask, but from the hard look in his deep-set eyes, she didn't think he'd be receptive to idle conversation.

"Everyone, meet Sten," Corvis said, sweeping his hand toward the giant grey-skinned man. "Sten, meet the rest of the Wardens."

"I expected an order of warriors," Sten said flatly. "I am not impressed."

"Oh, what charm," Morrigan purred, crossing her arms over her chest. Her golden eyes flicked to Corvis, and his to her—but if they were surprised over each other's mutual presence or survival, neither voiced it.

"Well, we can all be grumpy and unimpressed on the road," Palla said, jerking her thumb northward. "That-a-way. Let's make better introductions and greetings than those ones later."

The fire-mage rolled his eyes and moved to the front of their ragtag pack, not even swiveling his head when a screaming teenaged girl ran across their path towards the Chantry. "Andiamo, then. Let's be off."

Palla grunted as she finished dousing the campfire with loose dirt, standing up straight and stretching her back with a satisfying pop.

They'd be safe enough camping here, a couple hundred yards off the main road and concealed by a thick barrier of old oaks and forest scrub. The Hawkes had been able to lend them enough material for two tents, which they'd all set up a little while ago; Ellie was already fast asleep in the women's tent.

Everyone had dispersed, as if standing next to each other would cause disease or something. Morrigan had set up her own tent another several yards from the main part of camp, and she'd been a silent hermit ever since they'd settled here, avoiding conversation with absolutely everyone. Shesi hadn't come down from the tree she'd climbed, and had made no noise except for relaying what she saw every so often. Sten, sitting on a fallen log near the doused fire, looked so ill-at-ease that Palla almost wanted to comfort him with conversation…but she figured that would just make the Qunari warrior angry.

The only ones being social were Alistair and Leliana, sitting cross-legged next to each other in the dirt and idly conversing about the weather.

Oh—and there was Corvis, nearer to the road. He was still conversing with those dwarves.

Merchants, Palla had guessed easily enough when she'd spotted the two this morning with their cart. They'd nearly been cut down by a few scattered darkspawn scouts at the bridge leading onto the Kingsway. She hadn't expected them to turn up again, but here they were, apparently lured in by the thought of Grey Warden protection.

Curious, she decided to tromp over.

"I'm perfectly willing to offer you a fine discount for the inconvenience of our presence," the older of the two dwarves was saying. Bodahn, his name was. Bodahn…Feddic? Yeah, that was it. Palla had always had a knack for names. "How does that sound? Good? Yes?"

"See, now, that's entirely ambiguous," Corvis answered. He looked over, unfazed, as Palla stepped up to join him, then returned his attentions to the dwarves. "A discount or markdown doesn't tell me much until it has a defined value and is applied to goods that haven't already had their prices inflated."

Bodahn combed a meaty hand through his thick, oaken brown beard. "Clever of you not to be taken in by ambiguity, my boy."

Corvis chuckled. "You could say I have training with this sort of thing."

"Oh? Do tell, do tell!"

The merchant was certainly enthusiastic, Palla would give him that. Endeared, she watched Bodahn rub his palms together to warm them.

"My parents traded between Denerim's market and Antiva City," Corvis explained. "Mostly coffee, incense, ambergris, that sort of thing. I was able to run a market stall myself at the age of six. And I could easily appraise anything you've got in there. Not that I have the patience or energy to, at the moment."

"Being a mage must've put a damper on that," Palla said. What an exciting life he surely had before his magic manifested. She could imagine the wonders he must've seen in Antiva City's bustling market, the things he'd surely come across in the large city of Denerim, the roads and sights between. She'd always loved trips to the market as a child, even though as nobility her experience must've been vastly different from his.

"Si, quite," he said with a nod. He offered no other information than that, looking down at Bodahn once more.

"Then you no doubt understand the benefits of associating with a merchant," Bodahn said, his eyes twinkling. "What do you say, chap? Shall we haggle?"

Corvis grinned, crossing his arms. "You first."

"Now, I have quite the array of wonderful things and I cannot possibly let them go for free." Bodahn gestured back at the cart, where the younger of the two dwarves was fiddling with something inside. "But I'd be happy to knock down the prices by a fifth, just for you."

Corvis glanced at the cart—which was covered, offering them no view of whatever was inside. "By a half. We'll lose moving speed with a cart in tow."

Half? Palla nearly opened her mouth, but stopped herself short. She'd seen people do this haggler's dance before, she remembered now. No doubt Corvis had aimed low on purpose to make an intended goal seem like a compromise.

"Now, now, half is no good. No good," Bodahn said. "I couldn't possibly. What do you say to three-quarters price of my wares?"

That alone was already a hefty markdown.

"You've got enchanting tools in there," Corvis said. "Everything arcane has a sort of feel to mages, you see. A magical signature, if you will." He shifted his weight to one hip. "Now, I'm going to make the assumption that you don't have them in there to sell them. Enchanting tools rarely see the common market. Which means, one of you probably knows how to use them. Your son?"

Bodahn smiled fondly.

"Aye," he said, "my boy Sandal happens to be a bit of a hand with enchantments, oh yes. Sandal, come say hello."

The younger dwarf gently and slowly returned whatever he'd been holding to the cart, then ambled over to join them.

His eyes were keen, sharp, flitting rapidly between everything in his field of vision, and his thick blond hair was cut short to his head, probably to keep it clean. He clasped his pale hands in front of him and fiddled with his fingers, looking intently at Palla and Corvis and bouncing idly on the balls of his feet.

"Enchantment?" he said.

"Exactly," Corvis answered. "Have you done a fair amount of enchanting, bambino? You're well-practiced?"

"Enchantment," Sandal said, enthusiastically.

"Ah, perfect," Corvis said. He shifted his attention to Bodahn. "Tell you what, commerciante. Three-quarters, and access to enchanting services. Then we'll escort you safely to wherever you'd like to go. Provided that isn't Ostagar or Lothering. I'm hardly suicidal."

Bodahn grinned widely, flashing a line of teeth. "Wonderful. You won't regret this, serah, Sandal and I will see to that."

He jutted his arm out, hand extended for a shake, and Corvis grasped it and shook it firmly.

"You can come closer to our tents, if you like," Palla offered, pointing. "Might be safer than the road. Shesi says she hasn't seen darkspawn coming up the Kingsway, but we can't be too careful right now."

Actually, from what Shesi had said, the darkspawn were either lingering in Lothering or had scattered after going through. They were largely leaderless, Palla was pretty certain, called to action by some force that wasn't present with them at the moment. She was surprised they'd mustered so much unity for Ostagar.

"Aye, and I think we will take you up on your kind offer, my lady." Bodahn and Sandal gripped adjacent handles of the cart and began coaxing it through the uneven forest turf, towards the fire Palla had snuffed a minute or so ago.

Neither Palla nor Corvis moved from the spot, watching the cart's tan canvas sides fade off into the dark.

"If he hadn't been lenient with his prices," Palla said after a moment, "would you have made him go up the road alone?"

Corvis snorted. "No. And he would've haggled lower, regardless—just from seeing the darkspawn in person on the bridge outside Lothering. He's afraid of them."

"But you didn't make him go lower."

"Yes?" he said. "What of it?"

He had a heart somewhere in there, Palla was realizing. Somewhere under that frequently arrogant—and absurdly hot—exterior. And he seemed to have a knack for handling young ones, if his exchange with Sandal told her anything. Not that she knew how old Sandal was…but he couldn't have been that close to her own twenty-one years.

"Nothing," she said. The soft noises of the forest surrounded them, soothed her—chirping of crickets, croaking of a toad nearby, whispering of a breeze through prickly oak leaves. "I rather wish we hadn't abandoned Lothering like that."

"Your corpse would've made decent fertilizer for the bog plants," Corvis said with a skeptical lift of his eyebrow.

"Oh, quit," she said. "Don't you feel the least bit sad? So many villagers trapped themselves in the Chantry."

"You should be thankful you're alive to experience the survivor's guilt," he said.

"You can't be sure we would've died there."

"You can't be sure we wouldn't have."

Bah. Palla exhaled a sharp rush of air. "Corvis, why have you stuck with the Wardens past Ostagar when you're not even tempted to do anything heroic?"

"Stopping the darkspawn has nothing to do with being a hero, Palla," he said. "Not unless you want it to."

Then he stepped off into the darkness in the direction of the camp, leaving her alone.

She didn't linger long by herself—the forest may have been relatively safe where they were, but that would be asking for trouble she certainly didn't need. Shivering from the cold, she rubbed her palms over her arms and set off back towards camp.

Sleep. Sleep would be good. Everything else…that could wait until morning.