"Everyone knows the plan, then?" Isabela kept her voice low to avoid being overheard. "The kid's going to let us know when they're loading the wagon—he said there's a scratch on the bucket helm they gave him, so we'll know which one he is. He'll signal us when it's safe, then Bianca and I, and Varric, will get in the wagon."

"I still think I should go along," Bethany fretted.

Isabela reached for her lover's hand, squeezing it. "Not a chance. I won't walk you straight into the lion's den and see you caught by the Chantry and killed … or worse. The mages are staying behind, and that's that."

"Teyrn Cousland's people will be along in a day or two," Varric said. "They'll look like an innocent merchant's caravan, but he promised some well-armed fighters. We breach the tower, they come in to support the resulting festivities."

"You are all fools if you believe it will be nearly so easy as that." Varania's voice was cold. She folded her arms across her chest. "I am content to be left out of your plans."

Bianca glared at her aunt. "Don't you care about my father at all?"

"I have a great deal of money invested in him," Varania conceded.

"That's it? Money?"

There was silence as two pairs of green eyes stared at each other. Bianca's filled with tears, and she blinked and looked away. Isabela had her own ideas about the Tevinter mage's involvement in this rescue mission, but the girl might as well learn that not everyone in the world was motivated by things like love or nobility, despite what she might have been raised to believe. This trip had been a big eye-opener for Bianca in the ways of the real world … Isabela was glad that awakening had happened under her watch. Few knew more about the underbelly of people's desires and motivations than she did. Although it had been a long time since she'd had to feel alone in the world, the way she had in the old Kirkwall days. Thank Bethany for that, and thank Hawke for Bethany.

She reached out and touched Bianca lightly on the arm. When the girl met her eyes, Isabela gave a faint, small shake of the head. Bianca understood, and visibly gathered herself together, standing taller. She was quick, that one.

Across the small campfire, Isabela noticed Kethali's eyes resting on Bianca with approval and admiration. She wondered what would happen there. Both the boys seemed content to wait to press their case until the girl's parents were saved, but once that happened young Bianca would find herself with two very earnest young men on her hands. In her shoes, Isabela might have played them off against each other and had some fun, but Bianca appeared just as earnest as her suitors, which was no fun at all, in Isabela's opinion.

She glanced up through the leaves, calculating the angle of the sun. "Time," she said briefly.

"Yup." Varric fastened Bianca securely to him with a complicated system of buckles and straps. Isabela would have gone with something more practical—had, in fact, loaded herself up with small knives anywhere she could fit one without cutting herself.

Isabela turned to Bethany, holding out her hand. The mage took it in both of hers, lifting it to her mouth and kissing the scarred knuckles. Her clear amber eyes looked at Isabela over their joined hands. "You. Don't be reckless."

"Aw, now, cupcake, would I do that?" Isabela grinned.

"Yes, you know you would. And since I can't steer that giant ship without you … you'd better come back."

"Aye, aye, Cap'n Hawke." Their eyes held each other, and silently Isabela promised what she couldn't have put into words.

Bianca had turned to Kethali, holding out both of her own hands to him.

"Be safe," he said, clasping her hands.

Isabela spied the pink flush that stole up Bianca's cheeks at the contact.

"I'll try," the girl said, smiling at the elven mage. "You, too, all right?"

"Of course." He shifted his feet, fidgeting a bit. "There may be something I can do …"

"You'll stay here, though, right? I—I couldn't handle it if something happened to you. It would be all my fault." Bianca's voice trembled, and Isabela wondered if the girl was really stable enough to be brought along on such a difficult, delicate mission.

"I will stay here. I promise." Kethali squeezed her hands. "And you will win through—a spirit like yours cannot fail to do so."

"Thank you." Bianca stood a little straighter at his words, her voice strengthening. She turned, looking at Isabela over her shoulder, ignoring Varania completely. The elf crossed her arms, looking amused—and remarkably like Fenris. "Are we ready?" Bianca asked.

"Yes, ma'am." Isabela chuckled. "Varric?"

"Ready when you are."

"Good. Follow me." Isabela swung herself up into the trees above them, moving lightly from branch to branch. Bianca followed her, watching every move closely before attempting it herself. Varric looked up at them both for a moment and shook his head.

"Sodding humans." He settled for darting along the ground from cover to cover, with surprising speed for a man of his short stature.

The small farmhold where the wagon was being loaded with supplies was bustling today. Isabela was grateful for that—their movements would be less noticeable today. She stretched out on a rooftop near the wagon, with Bianca next to her. She'd lost track of Varric at some point, but the dwarf would find his way—he always did.

"There," Bianca whispered softly. "That's Freddy."

Isabela squinted, but she couldn't tell a difference. "Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh. I'd know him anywhere." The girl's eyes lingered on the broad shoulders of the tall Templar; she didn't appear to need to look for the long scratch on the back of his helmet. Isabela eyed her sideways, wondering which of the boys she would choose when push came to shove.

A crate of chickens was shoved onto the wagon, and draped with a black cloth to keep them quiet. The workers went back into the barn, and in a flash of movement Isabela saw Varric swing himself in and tuck himself under the black cloth. The chickens fussed a little, but shortly were silent again. Varric had the touch, Isabela reflected. It was a real shame he'd never tried mastering the seductive arts; he'd have been remarkably successful. Isabela had wondered a time or two what he'd have been like under the covers herself. One night while pleasantly drunk on sweet Antivan wine, she'd suggested to Bethany that they try to bring Varric into their bed sometime. The mage had fallen off the boat laughing and had to be rescued. Of course, they'd made love in the ocean that night, Isabela remembered with a smile, so the experience hadn't been all bad. She'd have to thank Varric for it eventually.

"Isabela." Bianca nudged her in the side. "That's the signal."

The Templar was leaning against the building beneath them, knocking his scratched helmet—with his head still inside it—against the wooden slats. "That has to hurt," Isabela muttered. She dropped lightly off the side of the roof, landing in an easy crouch, and hurried to the wagon. Instead of climbing in, she ducked underneath. She felt more comfortable holding on to the bottom—less exposed that way, and she could drop off at any point.

The wagon creaked and settled as Bianca climbed in and concealed herself. After a few moments, the bustle resumed around the wagon, and then there were horses being brought alongside. Isabela could see Templar boots, then they disappeared as the boots' owners mounted their horses. The wagon began moving. Isabela shifted her grip, pulling herself more tightly against the undercarriage of the wagon. So far, so good.

It kept rolling for a fair bit before coming to a stop. Voices, one muffled by the helmet, exchanged code sentences, and then a pair of muddy boots approached. It looked as though the owner of the muddy boots was checking the cargo. Isabela tensed, holding her breath, but apparently he saw nothing, because the boots stepped back and the wagon's motion resumed. She could see the thick posts of the fence and the open gate as they passed.

The wagon came to a stop in the middle of what appeared to be a courtyard. Isabela tensed. She'd be all right until they pulled it into a barn, but Varric and Bianca …

The men lifting the crate of chickens down complained about the weight, but the black cloth was undisturbed. Varric must have climbed inside the cage. Isabela stifled a chuckle at the idea of feathers all over that beloved coat of his.

"Hey!" It was Freddy's voice. "Are these bushels of vegetables destined for the inn?"

"Yeah." The voice came from above Isabela's head, in the middle of the wagon.

"Inn's over there, right?"

"No, to the right!"

"Right?"

"Oh, sod it," said the man above Isabela's head. "Can't they ever recruit someone with half a brain?" She could hear the boards creaking as he got down, leading Freddy toward the inn. More creaking, fainter this time, as Bianca darted off the wagon and into concealment somewhere else … or so Isabela assumed from the lack of outcry.

She held on until the wagon was parked inside a barn, the horses unhitched, then finally let herself down, her arms and legs stiff and aching from all the time spent in one position. Through two misaligned boards, she could see the sky, orange with the setting sun's fading light. Soon it would be time to rendezvous with Orana at the back of the inn, and then … they would storm the Aeonar. Isabela liked the sound of that. It would make a great entry into the annals of Captain Isabela of the Temptress. Her last great mission.

Last? Well, maybe not quite last.