"Don't you ever talk?" Alistair said to Sten as they left Denerim behind. "You know, make polite conversation just to put people at ease?"

"You mean that I should remark upon the weather before I cut off a man's head?"

"Nevermind."

Saitada snickered, and she saw the corner of Sten's mouth twitch just slightly. They'd gone about five minutes more before Alistair tried again. "Were you really in that cage for twenty days?"

"It might have been closer to thirty. I stopped counting after a while."

"What did you do? I mean... twenty days is a long time to sit in one place and do nothing."

"On good days, I posed riddles to the passerby, offering them treasures in exchange for answers."

"Really?"

"No."

"Awww..." Alistair sounded genuinely disappointed. "Too bad. That's got serious potential."

Cathiel laughed.

They ate on the move. Saitada thought she actually heard Cathiel say something about missing Brehan. The Dalish man certainly did know how to find a comfortable camp. She noted a curious expression on Wynne's face as the woman glanced at Alistair.

Alistair caught it too. "Why are you smiling like that? You look suspiciously like the cat who swallowed the pigeon."

"Canary."

"What?"

"I look like the cat that swallowed the canary."

Alistair shook his head. "I once had a very large cat, but that's not my point. My point is why are you smirking?"

Wynne chuckled, and glanced sideways at Cathiel. "You were watching her. With great interest, I might add. In fact, I believe you were...enraptured."

"She's um... a noblewoman. I look to her for guidance."

"Oh, I see. So what guidance did you find in those swaying hips hmm?"

"No no, I wasn't looking at... you know her... hind-quarters"

"Certainly."

"I gazed...glanced, in that direction, maybe, but I wasn't staring...or really seeing anything even."

"Of course."

"I hate you. You're a bad person."

Saitada exchanged a glance with Sten, and sighed. At least morale was high.

#

They made camp quickly. Brehan set fish onto a hot stone, and left them to cook. He saw Leliana make herself comfortable, and smiled. He set the flowers he'd found earlier next to her. She blinked. "Flowers? For me? Oh... they're beautiful."

"Smell them."

She held them to her nose, and her eyes widened. She sniffed again, and tears came to her eyes. "These were..." She buried her face in them for a moment before looking back up at him. "These were her favorite. Oh, I haven't seen these in such a long time. They smell just like mother used to." Her smile trembled. "Thank you... thank you so much for remembering."

He nodded, and went back to finish tending to dinner. He saw her shoot him a sidelong glance as they ate. She let out a breath. "I lied to you, you know?" She sighed. "About why I left Orlais."

He smiled. "I knew you weren't telling me something."

She drew her knees in, and touched the flowers before looking back at him. "I didn't feel like talking about it then What happened to me... maybe it will affect us, maybe not, but you should know." She drew a deep breath. "I came to Ferelden and the Chantry because I was being hunted, in Orlais."

That wasn't what he'd expected to hear. "Hunted? What for?"

"I was framed, betrayed by someone I thought I knew and could trust. Marjolaine - she was my mentor... and friend." She took one of the flowers, and played with the stem, twining it around her fingers. "She taught me the bardic arts - how to enchant with words and song, to carry myself like a high-born lady, to blend in as a servant... The skills I learned I used to serve her, my bard-master, because I loved her, and because I enjoyed what I did."

He raised an eyebrow. "You loved her?" He felt a mild pang. It just figured, didn't it? He finally found a woman he really liked, and she... He just barely managed to keep himself from sighing.

"She was a remarkable woman. I cannot fully express the admiration I had for her, or the depth of my affection." Her gaze became distant. "I thought I knew her. My devotion to her blinded me to her... less than noble attributes." She shook her head. "You can say it was my fault. There was a man I was sent to kill. I was to bring Marjolaine everything he carried. I don't know who this man was. She gave me a name and a description, and I hunted him down. I found documents on his body - sealed documents."

"You opened them, didn't you?" He couldn't blame her. In her place, he would likely have done the same.

"My curiosity got the better of me. Something told me that I needed to know what was in those letters." Her voice grew sad. "Marjolaine... had been selling all kinds of information about Orlais to other countries - Nevarra and Antiva, among others. It was treason."

"Isn't that what bards do?"

"Some. But I had always assumed that Marjolaine only operated within Orlais. This was an unhappy surprise for me. My life as a bard taught me that my loyalties should be kept fluid. My concern was not that she was a traitor, but that her life would be in danger if she was caught."

He nodded. "Most countries don't appreciate treason."

She sniffed the flower again, and began braiding the stem into a ring. "I should have left well alone, but I didn't. I had to tell Marjolaine I feared for her life. She brushed aside my concern. She admitted her guilt, but said it was in the past. That is why the documents had to be destroyed, she said." The old pain showed on her face, the hurt in her voice. "I believed her. I kept believing, up till the moment they showed me the documents, altered by her hand to make me look the traitor."

His voice was soft and sympathetic. "She betrayed you?"

"Yes..." She sat for a moment in silence. He added another stick to the fire. "The Orlesian guards. They captured me... did terrible things to make me confess and reveal my conspirators. It was a traitor's punishment I endured, and at the end of it, all that awaited me was eternity in an unmarked grave."

"How did you get out?"

She gave a wry smile. "The skills Marjolaine taught me were good for something, at least. I broke free when I saw the opportunity." Her gaze became distant again. "I did not seek Marjolaine out. If she thought I was coming for her, she would have me caught again."

"And so you came to Ferelden, to Lothering."

"I was tempted to confront her; I was furious, betrayed, but what could I do against her? And so I fled, to Ferelden, to the Chantry and the Maker. Ferelden protected my person, and the Maker saved my soul." Her voice grew serious. "And that is the reason I am here. The real reason. No more lies between us, at least in this."

He added another stick to the fire. "You will be safe in my company."

"It feels good to have this off my chest. Thank you for listening, and understanding."

#

Jerath watched as Morrigan built a small fire. Neither of them had bothered with tents. He gave her a contemplative look. "Life in the Wilds must have been very lonely."

"At times, perhaps. A world full of people and buildings and things was all very foreign to me. If I wished companionship, I ran with the wolves and flew with the birds. If I spoke, 'twas to the trees." Her smile was fond, her voice wistful.

He leaned back, looking up at the stars. "That sounds wonderful."

"For a time. But one can only remain a child for so long. I recall the first time I crept beyond the edge of the Wilds. I did so in animal form, remaining in the shadows and watching these strange townsfolk from afar." She used her magic to light the fire, then sat down across from him. "I happened upon a noblewoman by her carriage, adorned in sparkling garments the likes of which I had never before seen. I was dazzled. This, to me, seemed what true wealth and beauty must be." She shook her head. "I snuck up behind her and stole a hand mirror from the carriage. 'Twas encrusted in gold and crystalline gemstones and I hugged it to my chest with delight as I sped back to the Wilds."

He tilted his head to one side thoughtfully. "I can't imagine Flemeth was pleased."

"She was not," Morrigan said flatly. "Flemeth was furious with me. I was a child and had not yet come into my full power, and I had risked discovery for the sake of a pretty bauble. To teach me a lesson, Flemeth took the mirror and smashed it upon the ground. I was heartbroken."

A memory sprang to his mind. A ruby necklace in a silk kerchief, and his mother's look of horror when he'd presented it to her. Still, his mother had been kind when she'd told him how dangerous his actions had been. "But you were just a child."

She shrugged. "And a foolish one. Flemeth was right to break me of my fascination." Her voice became harsh. "Beauty and love are fleeting and have no meaning. Survival has meaning. Power has meaning." She looked across the fire at him. "Without those lessons I would not be here today, as difficult as they might have been."

He sought the place in his mind where the rage used to dwell. It was still odd, finding silence there. But the lessons remained. "They made you stronger, didn't they?"

"They did, indeed." She gazed into the flames. "To return to your original question, perhaps my time in the Wilds was indeed lonely. But such was how it had to be." She waved a hand. "I find myself at times wondering what might have become of the girl with the beautiful, golden mirror... but such fantasies have no place amidst reality."

#

"I've a question, if I may."

Lenore smiled at Zevran. "Go ahead."

He looked over at her and Brosca. "Well here is the thing: I swore an oath to serve you, yes? And I understand the quest you're on and this is all very fine and well. My question pertains to what you intend to do with me once this business is over with." He shrugged. "As a point of curiosity."

"You could go, if you wanted," Lenore said. Brosca nodded.

"Could I?" He cocked his head to one side. "And if I didn't wish to leave?"

Lenore laughed. "There's always a use or two for a handsome elf."

He raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "I'm sure that I could come up with a few more, if pressed." His voice became cheerful. "It is good to know what my options might be. But that is for another time. For now, we have much to do, yes?"

#

She watched the others around the fire. Sten busied himself with tending to his armor. Griffon sat next to the qunari, and she was surprised to see the big man appeared to be actually holding a conversation with the hound.

Wynne sat down next to her. "So tell me, how did you become a Grey Warden?"

Saitada shrugged. "I was cast out to die in the Deep Roads, and found Duncan there."

Wynne raised an eyebrow. "You survived the Deep Roads and the darkspawn that dwell there? Truly, you were born to be a Grey Warden."

"I prefer this life. I can sleep more soundly, it seems. Being exiled has given me a freedom I never had before. Orzammar has forgotten me, but I will protect her."

Wynne gave her a contemplative look. "Sometimes it gives me comfort to think that everything will end up the way it's supposed to, that it will be alright. You were chosen; you survived the Joining when others did not. Perhaps it was meant to be."

Saitada nodded. "I remember, on the path to Ostagar, telling Duncan that it seemed poetic, that those of us with little left to lose were all that stood between the world and darkness." Her gaze went to where Alistair and Cathiel sat together, giggling over some no doubt terrible joke. "And then, I lost him." She sighed. "I hope they enjoy these moments together. I fear there is a long road still before us."

#

She looked up to see Sten looking at her, a puzzled expression on his face. "Something wrong?"

"I don't understand. You look like a woman."

She blinked, and looked down at herself. "What's not to understand about that?" On the other side of the camp, she saw a wide eyed Alistair trying not to laugh.

"You are a Grey Warden." He tilted his head to one side. "So it follows that you can't be a woman."

"That..." She furrowed her brow. "Doesn't make any sense, Sten."

"So you understand my confusion, then."

She shook her head and laughed. "Well, I'm confused now, anyway."

"Women are priests, artisans, shopkeepers, or farmers. They don't fight."

"That's not a very comprehensive list."

"The laborers, soldiers, and ashkaari are men. There is nothing else left."

She shook her head. She'd figured out that the Qunari had some kind of caste system, but... "None of this makes any sense, Sten."

"Exactly."

Her head was starting to hurt. Cathiel actually had her hand over Alistair's mouth. "We're going around in circles here."

"I don't know what to make of you. Perhaps this is a quality of Grey Wardens I had not heard about." He held out a hand. "A person is born: qunari, or human, or elven, or dwarf. He doesn't choose that. The size of his hands, whether he is clever or foolish, the land he comes from, the color of his hair: These are beyond his control. We do not choose, we simply are."

She nodded. "But a person can choose what to do."

"Can they?" He gave her a considering look. "We'll see."

#

"Is Flemeth really what she seems to be?"

"Well that depends, does it not? What does she seem to be?" Morrigan raised an eyebrow at him.

Jerath shrugged. "A nutty old bat?"

Morrigan laughed. "Sometimes I do wonder the very same thing. Tell me: how much do you know of the tale? The one that the Chasind still tell of my mother, to frighten them into obedience?"

"I didn't even know there was such a thing."

"Ah! I see. That does explain much. I can relay what Flemeth once told me, herself. And you can decide whether or not 'tis the truth. If you desire."

"That sounds interesting."

"As the tale is sung by the bards, there was a time when Flemeth was young and beautiful. A fair lass in a land of barbarian men, the desire of any who saw her."

"Just how long ago is this?"

"Many centuries, before this land was even named Ferelden. The tales say that Flemeth fell in love with Osen, the bard, and fled the castle of her husband, the dread Lord Conobar, and that he swore vengeance for her infidelity. In truth, my mother claims that 'twas Osen who was her husband, and Conobar the jealous lord who looked on from afar. Lord Conobar approached young Osen and offered him wealth and power in exchange for his lovely wife. And Osen agreed."

"Flemeth must have been angry."

"The life of a bard is a poor one, and love fades in the wake of hunger. 'Twas Flemeth who suggested the arrangement. All would have been well had Lord Conobar kept his end of the bargain. But he was a foul man who bargained with coin he did not possess. Osen was led off to a field and slain, left for dead. Flemeth spoke to the spirits and learned of the deed, and sword revenge."

"She spoke to spirits? Or demons?"

"Spirits first, and 'twas they who slew Conobar. Flemeth did not turn to the demon until... much later. Lord Conobar's allies chased Flemeth, you see. Chased her to the Wilds and there she hid. There she found the demon and he made her strong. The legends all speak of the great hero Cormac, he who defeated Flemeth and her great army when she invaded the lowlands centuries later. All lies."

"Which? She never invaded? Or he never defeated her?"

"The truth of the matter is that there never as an invasion. As Flemeth tells it, the Chasind never raised an army under her banner and she never fought with any warrior named Cormac. Cormac led a brutal civil war against his own people, and later claimed it was to vanquish evil that had taken root amongst the lords. Thus he was hailed a hero. Flemeth was only attached to the legend much later. Perhaps 'twas due to the great war with the Chasind that eventually came, but Mother claims not to know how it began."

"Do you believe her version?"

"I do not believe everything Flemeth claims. Oft it seems her bitterness has colored her memories. But on the whole? Yes. I believe this tale, if not all."

"How is it that Flemeth has survived for so long?"

"The demon within her has transformed her into... something else. An abomination, perhaps some would say. I know not. I only know my mother is clever. And she is part of the Wilds as it is part of her. But she is no immortal. She bleeds. A blade in her heart would kill her like any other, were it luck enough to find her."

"An interesting story. Thank you."

"Dare I ask of your own mother? Few are abominations of legend, 'tis true, but I find myself curious nevertheless."

"I loved her very much. She had a fire in her. Duncan told me he almost recruited her to the wardens once. She was a natural with the blade, and trained me in its use."

"I find myself a little envious, to tell the truth."

He went silent for a moment. "I was still a child when she was murdered."

"You have my sympathies, for what it is worth. Which is very little, I am certain."

#

Brosca glanced at Lenore out of the corner of his eye. "So...er... you've got a thing for Zevran."

Lenore nodded. "And unless I mistake, which I concede is possible, so do you?"

"Don't that beat all. An elf boy." Brosca shrugged. "So what happens now? We draw straws? Duel? You turn me into a frog?"

Lenore chuckled. "I think you'd probably rig the game, and I never did learn how to do the frog thing." She gave Brosca a thoughtful look.

Brosca shifted uncomfortably. "What?"

"Why fight about it at all?"

"Well I wasn't serious about the duel...that's not what you meant, is it?"

Lenore nodded.

"You mean we... what, share?"

"I do not find the idea distasteful." She grinned impishly. "It certainly was fun playing with Isabela."

"Huh..." Brosca looked at Lenore as if seeing her for the first time. He chuckled. "Well, I can't say I'm necessarily opposed either."

"Well, that settles that then."

#

Alistair saw Cathiel looking at him with mischief in her eyes. "Something you need, my dear?"

"If you were raised in the Chantry, have you never...?"

"Never...? Never what? Had a good pair of shoes?"

"You know what I mean."

"I'm not sure I do." He gave her a teasing smile. "Have I never seen a basilisk? Ate jellied ham? Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?"

She laughed. "Now you're making fun of me."

"Make fun of you, dear lady? Perish the thought." He elbowed her playfully. "Well, tell me: have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?"

"Why, yes, I've licked a lamppost in winter."

"Just the once? And you didn't lose half of your tongue in the process? I'm impressed." He shrugged. "I, myself, never had the pleasure. Not that I haven't thought about it, of course, but... you know."

She blinked. "Oh, that's so cute. You're a virgin."

"Cute?" He raised an eyebrow. "Well, hearing that from a beautiful woman does make me feel much luckier, I'll say that."

"You think I'm beautiful?" She batted her eyes at him. Griffon bounded around them before running off ahead again.

"Of course you are, and you know it. You're ravishing, resourceful, and all those other things you'd probably hurt me for not saying."

She leaned against him as they walked. "I would never hurt you."

He put his arm around her. "Nor I you."

"You two are just adorable," Wynne said.

Cathiel giggled as Alistair started to blush.

#

Morrigan sat down next to him as they made camp. "I have been studying Mother's grimoire. Do you wish to hear what I have found?"

"What did you find?"

She shifted slightly, her face unsettled. "'Tis... not what I expected. I had hoped for a collection of her spells, a map of the power she commands. But this is not it."

He frowned. "Yet you look disturbed."

She sighed. "Disturbed? Yes, perhaps that is the right word. One thing in particular within her writings disturbs me." She laid a hand on the book. "Here, in great detail, Flemeth explains the means by which she has survived for centuries."

"A spell of immortality?" There were stories of such things, though none had ever seemed to hold a ring of truth.

"If only 'twere so." She gazed into the fire. "Flemeth has raised many daughters over her long lifetime. There are stories of many Witches of the Wild throughout Chasind legend, yet I have never seen one and always wondered why not." A horrified note crept into her voice. "And now I know. They are all Flemeth. When her body becomes old and wizened, she raises a daughter. And when the time is right, she takes her daughter's body for her own."

He closed his eyes, and then nodded. His eyes met her yellow ones. "So what do you intend to do about it?"

Her eyes were cold. "There is only one possible response to this: Flemeth needs to die." She threw a branch into the fire. "I will not sit about like an empty sack waiting to be filled. Flemeth must be slain." She sighed. "And I need your help to do it."

Five lives. Five favors. A blade. He nodded. "Very well. I'll help you, if I can."

Surprise filled her face, and then relief. "Then what needs to be done is for you to go back to Flemeth's hut in the Korcari Wilds... without me." She shook her head. "If I am present when she is slain, I cannot be certain that she will not be able to possess my body right then. So I must remain at camp. Confront her and slay her quickly. I doubt she will truly be dead even then, but it will take her years to find a new host and recover her power... if that is even possible." She frowned. "The thing I must have is her true grimoire. With it I can defend against her power in the future. Everything else in her hut is yours."

He twitched a shoulder. "I'll see what I can do."

"I am grateful. The sooner this can be done, the sooner it will set my mind at ease."

"We are already heading in the right direction." He looked at her. "Can you scout for these lost soldiers by yourself?"

"I can shift to a raven, and seek them from the air."

"Then I will head back to the wild in the morning. Meet me at that statue where we camped shortly after visiting Lothering."

"I will."

#

"I enjoy the nights at camp. The night always seems more peaceful, to me. Safer." Leliana lay with her head on her pack, gazing up at the stars.

Brehan smiled. "I know what you mean."

"I feel the night grants us a reprieve from the troubles of the day. Silly, isn't it? The darkspawn never sleep, and they lurk in the shadows."

"It is not silly to seek moments to lay down your burdens." He had to admit, it was nice just the two of them. With no spawn or other wardens within the range of his senses, the curious hum in the back of his mind faded enough for him to ignore it completely.

She rolled over to look at him. "I enjoy those nights when we stand guard together, talking to pass the time in those small hours... well, I talk and you listen, mostly..." She smiled. "Sometimes I succumb and fall asleep, and wake to find you still watchful and I know you're watching out for me."

"That's what friends do. Look out for each other."

"What I'm trying to say is..." She laid her hand on his arm. "Is that I trust you. I'm comfortable with you. I know you'll be there when I need you." She looked back up at the stars. "You are a wonderful storyteller, and my friend and sometimes I think that maybe we could be more than that... Maker... look at me, stumbling over my words like an ill-educated peasant girl. Some bard I am...

He laughed. "You're cute when you're embarrassed."

"I'm not embarrassed. I'm just... flushed because of... of the... heat," she finished lamely.

He laid back, arms folded behind his head. "Someone like you being interested in me is flattering." The lessons she'd been giving him were fascinating. Humans were actually starting to make something approaching sense.

She tossed a handful of grass at him. "What, are you saying I have bad taste? Why can't I like you? You're a good person, a great listener, a... a remarkable warrior." He snorted. She laughed. "You often show signs of intelligence and you're fairly good looking..." She leaned over and poked him in the cheek. "Most of your facial features are in the right place..."

"Mas serannas. You're so complimentary."

"You're welcome. I try." She sighed. "There... isn't much more I can say. My feelings have been laid bare. You are... very special to me."

"I feel the same way, and I'm glad you do too." Even if they weren't, well, compatible, he did treasure his friendship with the woman.

She sputtered. "Really? N-no one told me. You... you felt the same way and didn't do me the courtesy of informing me?" He blinked as she sat up and glared at him. "Y-you made me say all those things! Why couldn't you have said them first? Oh, you... oh, how very awkward..."

He blinked in confusion. "I thought you were comfortable around me."

"Oh, chivalry is so dead. Making the lady spill her guts like that..."

"Your spilled guts make me feel loved and accepted," he said, trying to make a joke.

"Yes... I am fond of you and I care about you. I'll take first watch."

He nodded, and went to the tent, more confused than ever.

#

With Brosca on one side and Zevran on the other, the soldiers stood little chance. Lenore decided to go with lightning, just for a change of pace. And so as not to burn Bann Telmen's crops. The man was grateful enough for their help. He had few soldiers, but Brosca was able to negotiate the provision of foodstuffs to help with the refugees trickling into Redcliffe.

They sat at a real table that night, with hot food and half-way decent ale. Zevran shrugged. "I did not thank you. It occurs to me now that you have freed me from the Crows, and yet I did not think to thank you for it. No matter why you did it, still it was done, and I the benefactor. So... thank you."

"We are friends, Zevran," Lenore said. "We were glad to do it."

He actually looked moved. "You say that so quickly, and yet it is an odd thing for me to hear. In the Crows, we do not have 'friends', and yet here you are and I cannot help but consider you such."

Brosca looked across at Lenore, then back to Zevran. "We might think of you as more than a friend."

"I... must admit that I have thought of..." He blinked. "We?"

"We," Lenore said.

"I simply had no idea you might..." He looked from one to the other, and his expression almost looked relieved. "Feel the same." He laughed. "How very novel."

#

He felt darkspawn at the edge of his senses, and shifted his path slightly to avoid them. Morrigan had tucked several potions into his beltpouch before he'd left. She'd looked for a moment as if she'd wanted to say something, but she'd only wished him good luck. He wished he understood why he was doing this.

Five lives. Five favors. He knew killing her was no way out from under that debt. He wasn't sure killing himself would be a way out from under that debt.

She was standing outside the hut, dressed in mage robes and carrying a staff. Waiting for him. "And so you return." She smiled. "Lovely Morrigan has at last found someone willing to dance to her tune. Such enchanting music she plays, wouldn't you say?"

"I should dance to your tune, instead?"

"Why dance at all? Why not sing?" She laughed, then looked him over. "Something has changed about you, lad. Circles within patterns, forming more circles, and the path begins again. What has Morrigan told you, hmmm? What little plan has she hatched this time?"

"Does it matter? I'm just investigating my options." He knew he was going to kill her. He also knew that it would serve little purpose. She was testing him. Again.

"Composing your own tune, then?" She gave him a pleased smile. "Now there's something even I can dance to." She laughed, then stroked a hand down her staff. "That you have come at all means you desire something. Perhaps I may yet give it to you." Her eyes met his. "Morrigan wishes my grimoire? Take it as a trophy. Tell her I am slain."

"And what happens to you?"

She waved a dismissive hand. "I go. Perhaps I surprise Morrigan one day..." Her eyes became contemplative as she looked him over once more. "Or I may simply watch." She shrugged. "It would be interesting to see what she does with her freedom. Enlightening even. Would you give an old woman that?"

"You are not simply an old woman."

"Nor were you simply a young man, the first time you came to my door." Her smile was slow and predatory. "Nor are you simply a young man now. Circles and choices, and little is as chance as it would seem. Walk with me."

He fell into step beside her as they walked to a small hill. She gestured. "It was here I met the boy who would become King Maric. Led through the woods by a farmer's son, the man who now holds the crown. I warned Maric that Loghain would betray him, and each time worse than the last." She turned to look at him again. "You, you he will not betray." She nodded. "You will do, I think."

"What would I get, if I simply took the book and left?"

She laughed. "You get to keep her. For a time."

He watched her a moment, then slowly shook his head. "No."

"Shame," she said, her voice dry. "What will it be, then?"

He gave her a respectful bow, then drew his blade. Flemeth nodded. "It is a dance poor Flemeth knows well. Let us see if she remembers the steps. You will earn what you take. I'd have it no other way."

#

The spoiled princess was a waste of time. Even Zevran could have taught the assassins a few things. Then she heard the innkeeper call a merchant by the name of Faryn. She walked towards him. He smiled at her. "Can I interest you in something?" He waved towards his wagon. "I've got the finest selection of previously owned armor and weaponry this side of Val Royeaux."

"You're Faryn, right?"

His eyes shifted nervously. "You've... ah, heard of me?"

Sten loomed behind her. "Where is my sword?"

"I... ah... don't know what you mean, ser."

Saitada sighed. "How much do you want for it?"

"I... I don't have it! I swear by Andraste's knickers! I sold it on the way here!"

"Where is it now?"

"I sold it to a dwarf in Redcliffe. Name of Dwyn."

She smiled. "If you're lying, you do know we'll be back."

He looked from her to Sten, as if trying to figure out which of them he should grovel towards. "I'm not, I promise you!"

"We'll see," Sten said, folding his arms.

"Time to head back to Redcliffe, and see about finding the others."

#

"It has been some time since I left Lothering. When I stepped out of the cloister, I had no idea where my path would lead. I walked where the Maker led me and... He has rewarded me for my faith. I found you."

Brehan smiled at her, and really hoped this wasn't going to be a repeat of the last very confusing conversation. "Are you saying I'm a gift from the Maker?"

She giggled. "Something like that. The Maker wants His children to be happy. Would He have created in us the capacity for love if He did not intend for us to find it?"

"Then I thank the Maker for bringing us together."

"You don't know how it makes me feel to hear you say that. But now it's getting late. I think I might... turn in early. I can't help thinking about how soft and warm my bedroll is."

He frowned. "You don't want to talk to me anymore?"

"Oh, of course I do. You know how I enjoy your company. But it's getting a little chilly and I'd prefer to be in my bedroll."

He tried to conceal his disappointment. He'd been looking forward to sharing some more stories. "I'm going to stay up and write in my journal."

She gave him a confused look. "I didn't know you had a journal. Or wrote in it regularly."

"Well, I do."

"Well, maybe you could bring it to my tent and I could watch you write. I could give you suggestions." She mimicked holding a pen and writing. "Dear Journal... Leliana has shown much affection for me. Even asked me to come to bed with her, but alas, subtlety is lost on me."

"Wait, what?"

She put her hands on her hips. "Oh, now he gets it."

A slow smile spread across his face. "I don't think I could turn down such a proposition."

She caught him by the front of the cloak and pulled him to his feet. "Good. Now come with me, before I lose my patience."

#

Morrigan paced back and forth in front of the statue. Perhaps sending him by himself had not been a good plan. Maybe he could have persuaded one of the others. He'd been training with that fool Alistair to learn some of the tricks of the templars. And in the fade... she'd seen him face demons. Surely if anyone stood a chance, it would be him. If she'd gotten him killed...

She blinked. Could it really be that she was more afraid of him coming to harm than she was that he had failed? She shook her head. Sentiment was far too dangerous. But he...

And then there he was, walking through the trees. His armor was scorched, and there was a wound on his side. He started to hand her something, and she shoved it away so she could weave a healing spell around him. It was only after the scratches on his face had vanished that she looked at his offering. "Mother's real grimoire, is it?" She felt a bit awkward. "I'm glad you were able to find it after all. My thanks for retrieving it. I shall begin studying it immediately and unlock the power that it holds."

He nodded. "We should be getting back to Redcliffe."

"The soldiers were killed by a demon. I killed it, and recovered some things that may satisfy Saitada."

"Good."