a/n My apologies for the long break in between updates. I've also discovered Endra's voice. The risk of episodic writing, I suppose. I have every intention of doing some editing in the earlier chapters. Thanks so much for your continued support!

Chapter 35: CONNOR

The door creaked open and Nuraya appeared from the darkness of the ship's underbelly. At first, the rusty hinges made Connor's stomach flip flop like a dying fish, but when he saw her wide, brown eyes he leaned against the wall and sighed deeply. The small cabin where he had been sitting alone afforded little room. It was probably once a broom closet, but now held a couple of hammocks and a trunk. A lantern hung from the ceiling, giving off a warm glow. He had spent the last hour negotiating with Endra. She was particularly irksome this evening, Nuraya's presence seemed encourage her in the worst of ways. She was muttering nonsensically, names that were unfamiliar to him.

Connor was exhausted, but unable to sleep. Terror lurked just at the surface. Every thump or squeak elevated his heart rate—and moored frigates do not float silently in the harbour. As a way of pushing Endra aside, he drowned himself in whatever washed ashore inside his stormy mind—endless waves of memories and desperate hopes. The terrifying images of Kalvindir's last minutes seemed to anchor Endra to the floor of his mind; she did not like his sadness, his fear. Who would, he thought. He wasn't sure if it was the worry or the rocking of the ship that was making his stomach turn, but Nuraya's reappearance had stilled his churning concerns.

"Captain Lashley says we have to wait out the storm before setting sail." She closed the door behind her and hung the lantern she carried on a hook.

"What about the fire?" He had seen Kalvindir's hovel burn as he flew into the night, toward the harbour.

Connor wondered how she was able to appear so calm. She set Kalvindir's staff in the corner and swung the pack from her shoulder and placed it alongside. "While I was on deck, I saw nothing but a column of smoke. It's hard to tell with all the rain. This storm will prevent it from spreading to the entire block. Small miracles." She pulled out a woolen shawl from her worn leather backpack and wrapped it around her.

"Your trunk arrived." Connor pointed to where the crewman had slid it abruptly against the wall. He wasn't even able to escape the Mages Collective with clothes. How Nuraya was able to pack a trunk in the midst of the chaos that had ensued seemed to confirm to the young mage why she was the Hero and he a mere escaped apostate-nobody.

"Odd. I didn't pack this…" Nuraya quirked an eyebrow and stood over it. She appeared deep in thought, but when comprehension must have suddenly clicked, she turned her back to it. "Alistair said that Captain Lashley had something for me," she muttered. "Why don't you go through it?"

Connor could think of nothing better and her suggestion came as the perfect distraction. Ever since the raggedy sailor had pushed it through the door, he wanted to peek inside and sift through the contents. It was the one thing he loved to do when parcels arrived at Kalvindir's. The act brought him to a happy place, although the edges were stained and torn with a bottomless grief. Endra had egged him on as well; her curiosity always piqued, but his boldness had fizzled in the last few hours, and he dared not poke around without Nuraya's permission. Flickers and flashes of the blood mages and templars reminded him that he was lucky to be alive and decided that it was best that he behave.

He imagined what was inside—it was probably nothing more exciting than her wardrobe and personal effects. But part of him hoped that it was Kalvindir, and he had somehow created an illusion so great so as to throw off the blood mages, the templars and Nuraya. But his examination of the trunk's exterior shattered those dreams. It was far too small to accommodate the hefty mage, plus there were no signs of vents to prevent suffocation. Connor clicked open the clasps to finally reveal the contents.

An overwhelming whiff of leather wafted into Connor's nose. Nuraya leaned forward, obviously curious as well. This made the revelation even more exciting.

Inside was a breastplate and a sword, beneath that, Connor guessed, were Nuraya's personal effects that she had kept at the palace. He looked over to her, expecting an expression of delight, or at least surprise. Instead she appeared sullen. Her mouth was drawn and her eyes were watery with tears. She lifted up the armor.

"It's from the King." She said flatly.

He touched the rivets and detailing. "It's incredible," he whispered. Each scale had an iridescent sheen that caught the light in the most interesting of ways. It appeared metallic, but was as flexible as the finest tanned leather.

"Made from the hide of the Archdemon." Her voice was devoid of expression.

Wide-eyed, he looked to Nuraya again. "I saw that thing's head at Warden Headquarters. I can't believe you killed it."

She chuckled beneath her breath, carefully returning the armor and shut the lid. She sat down on the trunk and leaned against the wall, biting the top of her lip in thought. "The King had it made for me. He's probably correct that I will need it in the weeks to come." She brought both knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

"Where are we going?" he asked after an uncomfortable length of silence. He had no idea where the Good King Maric was destined. He never thought to ask. Of course, running (or flying) for your life makes one forget to ask important details such as these.

"The Maric will port in Wycome. From there I think we should make for Val Royeaux."

"Orlais! Why?" For a moment he wondered about the Tantes and Oncles he had not seen in years. He and his mother had spent a few summers in the Capital, with his tantes and wide assortment of cousins. Despite being the son of a prominent Fereldan Arl, they had treated him as something of a pet. His Orlesian relations were never out rightly mean, but they made it quite clear that he did not belong.

His arrival on board the Good King Maric was nothing short ofpeculiar. He soared in as a sparrow and perched upon the mizzenmast, then found a convenient place to become Connor again behind a stack of crates on the poop deck. He hid there, naked and shivering under a tarp until at last Nuraya found him with a change of clothing. She took him to the crew quarters, deep in the ship's hold. She wrapped him in blankets, brought him strong tea and told him of her meeting with his father, how he had asked Nuraya to take him out of Denerim. Mixed in with Kalvindir's death, were the unresolved feelings toward his parents. They had sent him to the Circle and now they wanted him to leave the country. He was not sure whether he should feel gratitude or resentment. There was almost too much going on. He was a jumbled, twisted mess at the moment. The thought of going to Orlais brought him no comfort.

"Did my father suggest it?" Maybe his mother wanted him to find his aunt. He was not entirely comfortable with that idea, but decided that this was not the best time to argue.

"No. I think the less your father knows of our whereabouts, the better. At least, that is the impression that he gave me. I'm looking for someone who works at the University. Perhaps it's best that we avoid your relations, until their position on mages is clear."

"The less I see of ma tante Odette the better." He recalled her penciled mole and puckered lips, akin to that of a fish out of water, leaning in to peck each cheek. "Snobs—all of them. I'm sure she fanned herself and threatened to faint when news came that I had been taken to the Circle. I think the less we see of the Nicollets the better." Connor muttered and wished they would just go to Antiva. Circle gossip and word from the Collective made Antiva sound far more interesting than stuffy old Orlais.

"Sounds like a plan." She made her way to her hammock and settled within it. "I'm not sure about you, but I've had enough of this day. Get some sleep. We've been hired on as the Ship's healers, so don't expect much rest once we set sail."

Connor wanted to groan but held back. He watched the shadows play on the wooden beams above him until he heard the soft chuffs of Nuraya's breathing. He was glad she did not insist on extinguishing the lantern. The last thing he wanted was to be alone in the dark. No sooner did that thought escape him, did Endra appear at the end of the hammock. She added no extra weight, and crouched in her typical manner—slightly birdlike—while she nervously gnawed on her knuckles.

He held a finger to his lips and glared at her threateningly. He hoped she understood what that meant.

Of course. The Outfader is afraid the She-mage will see me.

Connor hated talking to her inside his mind, but he was not interested in exploring the alternative.

Your fears are nonsensical. The she-mage should be delighted to commune with another fade-being. I have information for her.

You're a demon, Endra. Nuraya would throw me off the side of this ship if she were to find out! I'm not sure if this makes any sense to you whatsoever, but blood mages killed our friend a few hours ago! If she saw you, she'd think that I was part of that plot!

Your name for me—demon. Perhaps you need to better explain that to me, Outfader.

Connor exhaled noisily, crossed his arms and turned his head away. This was a conversation that he was not interested in having at the moment.

The Endra feels a great resistance from the Outfader. The Endra did not kill the He-Mage you called Kalvindir. I can find him in the Fade and bring him to you, if the Outfader wishes.

Connor screwed up his eyes and thought an emphatic no.

I have a message for the She-mage.

What part of, she might literally kill me, do you not understand?

The Outfader always speaks so highly of the She-mage. Surely she would not act so brutally to a young boy in her care. The Endra cannot accept this line of reasoning. Then you must tell her I have a message—

Endra was about to continue, but stuck her nose in the air and sniffed. Connor shifted his weight, trying to get comfortable, causing the hammock to swing erratically. He was glad she was distracted and hoped that she would leave him in peace. The last thing he wanted was to spend the rest of the night having a philosophical debate with Endra. It was too late to regret conjuring her now. What was done was done. How he was going to keep her away from Nuraya was another problem he would have to deal with.

She sniffed again, then grabbed his foot and gave it a little shake. The Endra smells them.

Connor stifled a laugh with a quick cough. Surely the sailors on the Good King Maric would smell far more ripe in the coming weeks. He indulged her. Who are you talking about?

Andraste's soldiers. Those who repel us from the Fade.

He bolted upright, steadying himself in the hammock again. Templars.

As soon as he completed the thought, the sound of armoured footfalls approached. His heart pounded in his chest, and he continued to listen, hoping to hear them pass down the hall outside his door. From what he could hear, there was a group of them. Endra had already disappeared.

The clunk of boots stopped and Connor's breath hitched in response. A sturdy knock on their cabin door soon followed. He nearly flipped out of the hammock and onto the floor.

"Is there someone at the door?" Nuraya called out, her voice still gravelly with sleep.

Connor was on the verge of panic, but did not want to have to explain himself. He thought for the right thing to say, and just as he was about to play deaf and stupid, a second set of knocks confirmed her question.

"Coming!" she hollered and shuffled to the door, stretching and yawning, pulling her shawl over her shoulder. "In need of a healer already? We're going to have our work cut out for us, Connor." She muttered.

At the door were two templars and an older gentleman. Connor nearly fainted from fear. He drew the thin woolen blanket that covered him around his chin.

"Ser Cullen! Ser Hawke! What a surprise…"

A mabari hound pushed between the men's legs and stuck his nose in the air at Connor. It was the same exact expression that Endra had demonstrated only moments before, so he backed against the wall and pulled in his legs to prevent contact with its large, wet nose.

"He won't hurt you lad." The younger of the templars said.

"You've met Ser Carver Hawke before." Cullen said to Nuraya. The templar seemed familiar to him, but Connor was not about to ask whether he was the same Cullen that had been at the Circle when Connor first arrived as a young boy.

Carver Hawke crossed his arms and bowed to Nuraya. "Well met. We've heard rumours that your Brotherhood was attacked this evening, I am glad to see you well."

"And this is Professor Berenger Saunière from Orlais University," Cullen said.

The old man removed his plumed hat and bowed deeply. "'Tis an honour to finally be in your presence, Ser Amell. I've journeyed through long and dangerous territory to find you."

"Well met, gentlemen." Nuraya backed up a step toward Connor and helped him from the hammock, draping a protective arm around him, perhaps somehow sensing that he had broken out into a nervous sweat. All he could think was his imminent return to the Quiet Room and the beating that was surely to follow. And then he thought of Endra and bit his bottom lip, realizing that they turn mages like him tranquil. There seemed no other conclusion to this situation and he was mildly amused how calm the whole affair of being caught was. Those thoughts incited Endra to suggest a number of spells that would end the entire situation rather violently. In the calmest thought he could conjure, he begged for her patience and asked that she remain quiet so he could continue to listen. Following the situation with Nuraya and these templars was next to impossible with Endra's incessant nattering.

"Please, no need for alarm. Why don't you come with me so I can explain everything?" The Orlesian said. Connor noticed that his accent resembled that of his Oncle Rambert, haughty and pretentious.

"You'll have to pardon my lack of manners, Ser Cullen. My distrust of the Chantry should not surprise you."

"We need to talk. The Captain has offered us the State Room. It's a little more amenable than your broom closet here."

Before she could step away with the three men, Connor grabbed her hand. He could not imagine being alone now, not with Endra. There was no predicting how she might behave now that there were templars on board. Nuraya squeezed it back reassuringly. "This is Markus and he is my charge. He comes too."

The two templars towered over him, but he figured he could take on the old man if worse came to worse.

Cullen studied him a little longer and had the feeling that the templar's memory had been stirred. The templar opened the door and stepped into the hallway, still managing to keep Connor within his sight. Connor's tummy soured and looked away, hoping that recognition would not dawn.

The group made their way down narrow hallway, their footsteps echoing loudly over the wooden floor. The men dodged the low beams and hanging lanterns. Connor followed closely behind Nuraya. He trusted Nuraya's judgement, but following two templars seemed incredibly reckless.

They climbed a ladder that lead to the deck of the ship. They braced themselves against the onslaught of the wind and rain, across the slippery deck. Connor looked across the harbour and saw smoke rising. Nuraya glanced over her shoulder and frowned. They made their way to an ornate set of doors that lead into a more spacious deck that was decorated with ornate maritime-inspired carvings and gilding. Ser Cullen opened a set of double doors and ushered in the remainder of the party to an even grander room, with bay windows overlooking the harbour, wrought iron chandeliers hanging atop a massive wooden table. Wind and rain lashed against the windows and the lurch of the ship felt more pronounced.

Connor took a seat across from Nuraya and was offered a cup of tea and a plate of sweets on delicate china—a far cry from the earthenware and tin that he had become accustomed to. Nuraya pushed the plate in front of her aside, watching the Captain's staff as they exited the room. Once they were alone, she propped an elbow on the dark polished table and played with the end of her braid. The dog's toenails clicked loudly as he settled in beside the younger templar.

"With all due respect Cullen, given everything that has happened over the last few hours, I can't help but feel ill at ease having you show up here in the middle of the night. How exactly did you find me?"

"That would be my doing, Serah," the old scholar was leaning back in his chair, holding his cup and saucer as a proper gentleman would. "Bit of an odd story really, I came to Denerim looking for you… but seems my companion here," he patted the dog's head affectionately, "found his former master first. Brother Genitivi helped us find you, and that was no easy task."

"I'm not sure I follow. Why are you looking for me?"

The scholar chuckled. "We haven't got all night. It's quite an involved story. Does the name Fiona ring a bell with you?"

Connor watched Nuraya take a measured look toward the templars before offering her answer. "Yes it does. In fact, she suggested that I find you as well. But I'm surprised this involves you, Cullen?"

"Fate is a fickle path, isn't it?" Cullen seemed relaxed, but Connor was still unsure whether the templars were allies or enemies. Kalvindir once told him that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. The saying always muddled his mind, and as he sat in the luxurious stateroom, he tried to work out whether a possible allegiance with these templars was at all possible. "Our connection is pure happenstance. But, after hearing some of Professor Saunier's adventures with Kessler Hawke, I have to wonder if our paths are beginning to converge. It might interest you to know that I did not leave Kirkwall willingly, Nuraya."

Nuraya crinkled her brow again. Connor was completely confused and wished he could ask more questions. Endra started pawing again. He scratched at his chest, as if it would make the sensation go away. The templars made her uneasy. He started to assuage her, coax her that all was okay, that to act on her anger would only make the situation worse. He returned to the conversation, hoping he could figure out these strange new cast of characters: The Professor, Fiona, and their connection to these templars.

Nuraya's voice broke through his momentary fog. "Why did you leave? I would think that the city would be more in need of their Knight-Captain in light of what Anders did to the Chantry."

"We fled Kirkwall under the cover of night, a week before our Council meeting with King Alistair. We were tipped off that the Orlesian Chantry was planning a coup d'état of the Kirkwall Templar Order. With the office of the Viscount vacant, the Orlesians planned on installing a puppet as its political leader to extend Orlais' political reach into the Free Marches. Whispers of rebellion have been heard from within the White Spire and in the College of Enchanters. I think my view on mages is considered far too liberal for the Divine's liking."

Connor watched her expression darken as the Knight Commander mentioned the mages. Somewhere within his mind, he felt Endra's pleadings intensify. He hung on to Nuraya's every word, building his resolve again.

"But the Divine can install whomever she sees fit, can she not? I can't say I am shocked to hear of such plans," Nuraya said.

The Professor cleared his throat. "My dear, there is process and procedure. The Chantry has established a clear set of laws which must be uniformly upheld within each Order, regardless of what country. This helps ensure that the Order is not corrupted politically. Knight-Commander Cullen is the head of the Kirkwall Order by succession and by right."

"And how did you learn of such a conspiracy?" She asked the elder templar.

"Varric Tethras." Cullen replied.

"Never heard of him."

Carver interrupted. "My brother's closest companion and ally."

"Might I inquire as to why you are certain that he was not a member of the conspiracy?"

Carver laughed. "My lady, Varric would no sooner participate in an Orlesian templar conspiracy than would the Divine flash us her knickers on the altar in the Grand Cathedral."

"An interesting image, Ser Carver," grumbled the old professor. "Now I must concern myself with un-imagining that."

Cullen sat forward and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Varric always has an ear to the ground. He's got networks from Hightown to Darktown. Through his various connections, he learned of the attempted coup and came to warn me. The order is starting to splinter. The Grand Cathedral is using the destruction of the Chantry as an opportunity to make their move. When I learned that there was a target painted on my back, I fled."

"And how did you become involved, Carver?" she asked.

He smiled smugly. "Who do you suppose is Tethras' Chantry contact?"

"With all due respect, I think that your brother is under the assumption that you have turned his back on him," said Dr. Saunière.

"Which means that Tethras' plan worked. Kess and I met Tethras when we first arrived in Kirkwall during the Blight. He was all about coin and had the knack for sniffing out high paying work. We invested in a Deep Roads expedition—that's how we ended up meeting Anders. He had a map to a viable entrance and in return we agreed to help a mage friend of his. Or tried to help. And that's when I learned how utterly corrupt the situation at the Circle had become."

Connor saw Cullen nod, his expression dark and grim, Carver Hawke paid no heed and continued talking. Lightning flashed and shortly after a rumble of thunder accompanied the templar's tale.

"Any mage had become a target—especially by those templars in Meredith's inner circle. That was never my understanding of a Circle. My father opposed them, but he never thought of them as prison camps. And tranquility, to my knowledge, was to be used as a last resort—for abominations, for those mages unable to control their power amongst the population. It was never intended to be wielded as a weapon."

"You've very enlightened and liberal views of the Order, Ser Hawke." Nuraya said dryly.

"With all do respect, there are more mages in my family than not. My father eluded the Circle his entire life."

"I can't imagine how your family reacted to you joining the Order," she replied.

"My father and sister were dead, Maker show his mercy upon them. My brother, was quickly becoming the most notorious apostate in Kirkwall, about to embark on a Deep Roads expedition which would change the fate of every citizen in the city."

The old professor chuckled. "The man already has an ego. It does not need encouragement, Hawke."

"He and Tethras found something down there. Some Dwarven relic that Meredith acquired. If Anders had not destroyed the Chantry, she very well could have. Kess did not know, but while he was gone, I made a promise to my mother, to keep an eye on him, keep him out of the Circle at all costs. It was a promise she had made to our father. But my illustrious brother—the arrogant fool, thought himself untouchable. I joined the Order, as a way of keeping an eye on him, as a promise I kept to my parents. I maintained my contact with Varric when they returned from their expedition, and paid him handsomely to keep his mouth shut. I'd feed him information, and he'd help steer Kess out of trouble. That's how I am utterly certain that my brother had no direct knowledge of Anders plan and I am certain Varric never saw it coming either."

At the mention of Anders, Endra seemed to grow more excitable.

"That still does not answer why you've come to Denerim, or why you've come looking for me."

Endra seemed to grab hold of something inside Connor's head, causing him to shudder. Whatever she did, he knew he was starting to lose grip. He needed to get out of there and fast. The mabari clicked over beside him and gave him a mournful glance. The dog whined and then lay down in submission at his feet. The incessant whining interrupted the conversation. The young templar excused himself and took the dog gently by the collar.

"No worries, lad. He won't hurt you. Shasta's just missing his master is all."

Connor remained absolutely still as if the templar would suddenly lash out at him. He leaned away, not taking his eyes off the man trying to wrangle the very stubborn dog.

"Come, boy, let's leave the laddie. What's going on, boy? Storm have you spooked?"

At that moment, he felt Endra fill his head. His control slowly slipped away, as if he were white knuckled, hanging on to a ledge. Connor's first instinct was to cry. He had never felt so trapped before, not even while he was taking his punishment in the Quiet Room. Thunder rolled overhead and the sea seemed to swell in response. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the clatter of crystal and porcelain. Endra was there, ready to pounce. He was never more afraid of what he might unleash and looked to Nuraya, hoping for some way to escape the pressure that was bubbling to the surface, too effervescent to contain. She narrowed her eyes, giving him a look of concern, mixed with confusion.

"Is everything okay, Connor?"

He stood, his head was now throbbing, and was almost sure that it was obvious that his forehead was bulging, just waiting to explode with Endra's wrath. If his head had been deformed, no one seemed to notice. Nuraya approached and put a hand on his shoulder. He grabbed it, desperately.

"Get me out of here," he said under his breath, with punctuated emphasis.

"You've nothing to fear from Ser Carver and Ser Hawke, they are not mage hunters."

Endra's wails had now taken over. She was in a full-blown rage.

I have information for the SHE-MAGE. Do not be afraid of these templars! They cannot hurt me.

Connor slipped out of his chair and fell on to his knees, holding his head, trying to keep his brains intact, then slowly brought his forehead to the shiny wooden floor. The dog's whining intensified into a long series of barks.

From the fury, he head Nuraya's panicking. "Connor! Connor! Look at me!" He felt her touch, followed with a wave of her healing energy. That seemed to roil Endra even more. He let go.

A massive surge, whether it was the Amaranthine Ocean or the sheer force of Endra's escape, he could not be sure, but it threw him to the floor. For a moment, he felt nothing but relief that she was gone. He rolled over onto his back to see Endra, in her dirty little shift and hair aflame. The rest of the table sat agog, but Cullen reacted quickly, using his training to put an end to her. Connor leapt to his feet and brought the room to attention.

"STOP! Don't touch her!" He cried.

"Connor! Step back. Let Cullen do his job. You've been possessed again!" He dashed for Endra to try and protect her.

He stood between Cullen and Endra, waving his hands in defence. "Ser, please, she is no demon, she means us no harm!"

"I am here to speak with the She-Mage." Endra's voice was sweet and sing-songy.

"Step aside!" Cullen threatened.

He and Connor were dangerously close and Connor saw Endra's etheric fire flickered in the templar's eyes. At that moment, knew that he was the only thing in this world willing to protect Endra, and from where his devotion had arisen, he did not know, but he knew he must do so at all costs.

"Then you will have to kill me as well." Connor said evenly. The words seemed to pop right out of his mouth; he had no time to mull over their implications. "Let Endra have her say."

"Connor!" Nuraya's voice had turned from concern to anger as well. "Move!" She paused for a second, drew in a breath and her gentleness returned. "Come stand with me, you mustn't listen to it—I beg you."

As the other templar drew closer as well, Connor positioned himself between them both. Endra seemed far calmer now that she was outside his head. From behind, he heard her girlish voice, sweet and whispery. "She-mage. I have to speak with the She-mage. Outfader! I must speak with the She-Mage!"

Endra must have moved, as Cullen and Hawke sprang into action, throwing chairs aside to give chase. He spun around and watched Endra run the entire length of the banquet table and leap onto the top of a cabinet. She crouched atop, and gnawed her knuckles as she watched the chaos below. Connor called out to her, trying to call her down, as one might call a kitten from a tree, while Nuraya begged Connor to come to his senses.

Suddenly, there were arms around Connor. He kicked and thrashed and he heard Hawke. "Easy son, we don't want to hurt you."

Cullen spoken evenly, reciting a passage from the Chant of Light. "Blessed are they who stand before

The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just."

He had not heard a templar do this before and it frightened him. He thought something very bad was about to happen. His pleas to Endra grew more desperate. The dog stood on his hind feet against the cabinet, as tall as man, unleashing a long tirade of excited barks. Connor continued to struggle in Carver's strong arms, desperate tears blurred his vision.

Carver dragged Connor to a corner of the room, where Nuraya, to no avail, continued to plead with Connor. He kept his eye locked on Endra, who continued to perch and suck on her fingers, watching the scene below nonchalantly.

"I do not fear you Soldier of Andraste."

"In the name of the maker, I condemn you to the void, demon."

Endra laughed. "You, agent of Din'inan, instrument of the Forgotten Ones, have no power over me."

She unfolded her legs and let them dangle over the edge of the top of the cabinet.

Cullen rammed the cupboard with his shoulder, causing it to rock. Endra seemed completely unfazed.

"She-mage!" She called out to Nuraya. "She Mage! Sister-human! We must wake Sasule!"

"The demon speaks jibberish! She mocks us!" Hawke cried out.

The old professor ran to the cabinet, both hands splayed. "Ser Cullen! You must retreat! Let us hear what she has to say."

Bioware owns all. My thanks to DoorbellSpider and Kira Tamarion for their beta work. All your comments and reviews are deeply appreciated.