Goodness Spent
Chapter Two: We Need A Plan

The inhabitants of Lowtown, a sector of Kirkwall that was often ignored by the much wealthier and insulated residents of Hightown, were accustomed to the sight of activity in their busy streets. Whether it was the merchants calling out to any within earshot, demonstrating their wares for would-be customers that get drawn near, or workers doing what little they could to salvage the buildings that deteriorated without the patchwork care they received, or even those moving crates in and out of the warehouses, there was always something going on.

Even the less savory elements of Lowtown- of which there were many- rarely raised more than an eyebrow at the commotion they stirred: violence was a regular sight in a place where money was scarce, and the presence of the Hanged Man often lead to drunken fistfights and altercations. The citizens of Lowtown rarely felt compelled to get involved when conflict arose; it was commonplace and expected in the decrepit slums.

Which was why when two figures, one whose elaborate robes peeked through the shoddy cloak he'd acquired, and the other slight in frame, darted through the streets while pursued by three men in heavy armor, the citizens paid them no mind. Sure, the occasional woman steered her child into her house hearing the shouts from the men, and some smirked at the spectacle, but neither templar nor apostate would be interrupted in their 'game'.

Evelyn pointed to an alleyway wordlessly, then made a sharp turn towards it. Having been looking over his shoulder to watch for the templars, Anders missed the signal, and she had to grab his elbow to keep him with her as she slipped between the crowd of spectators standing in front of her goal.

"Oi, watch it!"

"My foot!"

Ignoring their protests, the woman yanked her companion ahead of her, and the second they were out of sight, she pressed the both of them against the wall. Their chests heaved with exertion, and Evelyn even doubled forward in trying to catch her breath. They listened as the templars rounded the corner into the clearing before the alleyway.

"You there!" One of the templars gestured to a merchant standing at his table. "Did you see two apostates come running through here?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Ser," the merchant replied with a shake of his head. "I was polishing this 'ere armor 'til you spoke up."

"Blast!" A second templar spat in anger, then looked to the small crowd. "What about you? One was a man wearing robes, the other a small woman, possibly an elf?"

"Heh heh, if I saw any pretty little elves, there'd be no way I'd let them slip away!" One of the men winked lasciviously.

"Pig!" One of the women elbowed the man in the ribs, scowling. This brought a burst of laughter from the others.

"I saw 'em, Sers!" An elf, one who'd been talking with his friend a short ways off, stalked closer. "Came running right through here not a moment ago!"

Evelyn's breath caught in her throat, and Anders felt his heart stop.

"Which way did they go?" The third templar demanded, striding forward impatiently.

The elf frowned, and pointed down the street towards the docks. "That way, Sers! Better hurry, too; I think I heard them say they're catching a boat!"

"Damn!" The first templar cursed. "Alright, come on, boys, double time! We can't let them escape again!"

As they listened to the sound of the metal boots and armor clank receding towards the docks, Evelyn and Anders let out a mutual sigh of relief. Evelyn even began laughing softly, brushing her hand through her curls to sweep them from her face.

"That didn't quite go as planned, did it?" She asked of her friend, grinning nervously.

"I'm pretty sure I told you that a cloak wasn't going to do much to disguise me," he accused. "I don't know why I listened to you."

"Because I'm damn cute, that's why!" She let out another giggle, then coughed, still struggling to regain control of her breathing.

Anders smiled at her attempts to inject humor into their situation. Despite her apparent confidence, she was shivering from the fear still rippling through her. "That's probably it, yes."

She finally stood straight, and met his gaze with a reply on her lips. Seeing the warmth in his expression, however, her words escaped her, and she resorted to smiling pleasantly in response. Just as a comfortable quiet fell over them, the elf that had spoken up in their defense before peeked back around to them.

"The way is clear now," he said, stepping more fully into the alleyway. "They're going to be searching the docks for a while; there are at least five fishing boats departing this time of day."

"Thank you, so much," Evelyn beamed to the elf, coming to him to take his hands in gratitude. "You have undoubtedly saved our lives. We owe you for your kindness."

The elf straightened in shock. "You... you're not an elf!" He gaped openly. "I-I'm sorry, you were so small, I'd assumed you were..."He shook his head and freed his hands from her grasp. "I'm glad you're safe. But not everyone in Lowtown will be eager to look out for strangers, especially apostates. I suggest you find a way out of Kirkwall soon."

"Thank you," Evelyn repeated, her cheer dissipating at the elf's growing coldness, "But we have business here."

"Then don't stay long," he warned harshly. "Mages don't exactly make our lives easier. The less the templars are combing through our streets, the better."

"Understood," Anders snapped. "We won't be a burden on you, Elf."

The elf scowled at him, waved his hand dismissively, and disappeared back around the corner again. Evelyn sighed, pressing her hand to her cheek; so much for feeling safe. The elf had only bought them time. There wouldn't be anyone to protect their trek through the city, and she doubted they could simply stroll into the gallows to meet with Anders' friend.

"We need to find someplace we can hole up for a while," Evelyn said aloud, breaking the contemplative silence between them. "Someplace the templars won't come looking, so we can gather our resources."

"I'll need to get in touch with Karl," Anders added. "Let him know that I'm nearby, see if I can arrange for a meeting."

"Someplace outside the gallows, preferably," Evelyn agreed. "Also, is it just me, or is the fact that they chose the gallows to house their Circle of Magi far too uncomfortably symbolic for good taste?"

"It's not just you," Anders shivered, his eyes narrowing. "That's a clear message if I've ever heard one. By everything Karl's said, they treat their mages like criminals, one step away from being punished for crimes their Knight-Commander imagines they've committed."

"I doubt that the Knight-Commander has that much free reign to mistreat the mages," Evelyn countered sternly. "It's one thing when it's someplace like Kinloch Hold, miles away from civilization where intervention takes months. But Kirkwall's Chantry is practically just down the street from the gallows. They don't like templars making decisions without their approval, even when it comes to mages."

"Maybe you're right," he conceded unwillingly, "But I know that Karl isn't safe here. Everything he's told me..."

"Hey." She placed her hand on his arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze as she smiled up at him. "He'll be fine. We'll get him out of the fire. We'll find a way to rescue him. We just need a plan."

His free hand closed over hers, and he smiled in gratitude. "And to have that, we need a place to hide. Any thoughts on that front?"

Evelyn pursed her lips, putting her knuckle over them as she began pacing. The sudden break in contact disappointed Anders, though he wouldn't be able to admit to himself that he had been. "You know, before the templars caught on to our presence, I heard the talk about why there was such heightened security around the place. You remember the Blight, right?"

Keeping his expression neutral, Anders replied, "Yes. I believe I remember the Blight."

She clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh! I'm sorry, I forgot- Grey Warden. What a stupid question!" She shook her head. "I meant that more as a leading question, anyway. When Ferelden got overrun by darkspawn, many fled the country. Since Kirkwall was one of the nearest ports, they got a lot of refugees landing on their banks. In fact, they still get waves of them from time to time, since Ferelden isn't exactly entirely free of darkspawn yet."

Anders shrugged faintly, not sure where this was leading.

"Sooo," she dragged out the word, trying to lead Anders by the hand with her logic. "Where are the refugees? We haven't seen one lick of them since we arrived, not even down here in the slums. They have to be going somewhere."

The idea clicked in his head. "So we find out where they've been going..."

"...And we can probably hide among them. After all, what are two more among so many refugees?" Her own words saddened her. "Though... we should try to minimize our impact on whatever resources they have... they can't have that much at their disposal..."

"That's a very good idea," Anders agreed. "We're not going to be here very long, anyway. Just long enough to get Karl out."

"Well," she fidgeted awkwardly. "I-I'd like to see my family, first..."

He cringed. "Right. Okay. We'll, uh.. we'll figure out the logistics of our escape later. First things first."

"Indeed," she chuckled. "Asking the locals where they're hiding the Fereldens who invaded their town, and making it look like we're just curious. You know, the tiny halfling and the hooded, cloaked man won't rouse any suspicion asking about where we can hide."

"I could ditch the cloak," he reasoned, going for the clasp keeping the hooded garment in place.

"You might fare better without it!" She slapped him on the arm lightheartedly. "It might even be weighing you down- unless you always run like a three-legged mabari?"

"Your words wound me, madam!" His fingers finally unhooked the clasp. With a smooth movement, he let the cloak fall around his feet. The jacket of his robes was closed, for now, but the padded leather he wore couldn't conceal the torn and frayed edges of his robes. Evelyn had noticed before the rust-colored stains, and the peculiar rip in the chest- so precise, it couldn't have been a tear by chance. A tool, or even a weapon, had to have made that opening. Anders' journey to this point had not been an easy one.

"I'm sorry. Would you like some hands-on healing to make it better?" She offered, letting her mouth curl oh so slightly more to one side than the other in subtle innuendo.

"You don't play fair, do you?" He snorted, but the faint pink coming to his cheeks let Evelyn know she'd struck home. It hadn't helped him to catch her staring at the rest of him before springing that on him. "What I would like is to avoid drawing further attention to ourselves. Magic won't exactly help us do that."

"I wasn't necessarily talking about magic," she winked.

"I know." The mirth died in his expression as she pressed the thinly veiled flirting further into the foreground. He started past her, brushing her faintly as he peered around the corner out of the alleyway. "And I thought you agreed that we'd keep things light and friendly."

"You're right," she sighed. "I mean, sometimes, talk of these things can be considered just being friendly, but I can see that you're clearly uncomfortable with it. Is the coast still clear?"

"Yes." His eyes weren't focused on scouting the street, however. Memories of nights spent wrapped in warm embraces, evenings engaged in titillating conversation that, as the fireplace died down, so smoldered the words exchanged flashed behind his vision. A lifetime ago, Evelyn's flirting would have been welcome, would have lead down a familiar path for Anders. The heat she kept stirring in him, intentionally or otherwise, he would have indulged and gladly.

"Well, then, let's go, before the templars change their mind about the docks!" Evelyn encouraged, slipping around beside him.

"Right." He smirked, then bowed and gestured for her to step out of the alleyway first. "After you, m'lady."

As she sauntered in front of him, peeking both ways down the street to make sure no prying eyes were keeping a lookout for them, Anders watched her in sorrow. Never had there been such a clear symbol of all he'd given up, everything that had changed, after making the agreement with...him.

-xxx-

"...And let's just say that things didn't end very well for the last person who decided not to pay Athenril what she was owed." The grip on the beleaguered businessman's collar tightened as the woman holding him pinned to the wall leaned closer. "You don't want the dagger on my hip to become a mutual acquaintance between you and him, do you?"

"N-n-n-n-nuh!" He stammered in reply. "No, I-I really, really don't!"

A grin broke her features, brightening her green eyes with morbid glee. "That's a smart lad!"

With that, she let the man slump to his knees, dusting her hands off. Her grin twisted into a smirk. "So! How do you suppose we go about setting things right again? You do still owe her about thirty sovereigns. Don't suppose you have it on you now?"

"Are you crazy? Who carries that much money on their person at a time?" The man choked out, then shrunk at the glare on her face. "I have maybe five sovereigns that I can spare right now."

The ivory-handled dagger lovingly detailed with gold inlay slid out of the thong strapping it to the woman's hip with a chilling slice. "That really can't be all you've got to spare, can it?"

"Sister, please!" The other girl with the first pleaded, her dark curls bouncing as she caught her arm in her hands. "Five sovereigns and a promise for more should be enough! Athenril said-"

"Athenril said she wants to be paid for services rendered, Bethany," the first woman replied coldly. "Look at the fancy getup he's strolling around in. There is no way he only has five sovereigns in his wallet right now. If we were common bandits, he'd have been stripped down for the gold lining his shirt alone!"

She bent down and lightly cupped the man's face in her gloved hand. "You don't want to strip down for us, do you? I'll let you keep your pretty shirt if you can just be honest with us..."

"Ten sovereigns!" He cried, shivering at the odd balance of tenderness and ferocity in the woman's gaze. "But I swear that's all I have!"

"Ten sovereigns isn't enough, sweetheart," the woman said ruefully, dragging him back to his feet.

"It's all I have! Really and truly!" He yelped, turning white as the dagger's tip made its way against his throat. "Please don't kill me! I'll have the rest in three day's time, a-a-an investment will be turning up a payment soon, I'll have enough then!"

"If you want me to turn you away with your life, I'm going to need one thing from you," she spoke in a low tone.

"Anything!" He cried, trying to pull away from the dagger and failing.

"Give us a smile, darling." She grinned. "A nice one, please."

Beads of sweat had formed on his brow throughout her intimidation. At the sudden shift in tone, he stared blankly at her, trying to comprehend what he'd just heard. At the growing impatience in her grin, he promptly threw a strained smile her way, trying to keep it as sweet as possible, but looking more to be gripped in a rictus of pain.

"Good man," she awarded him generously, setting him back down again and putting her dagger away calmly. "I'll take the ten sovereigns as a down payment, and be back in three days' time. You'll get to walk away today with your life and your pretty shirt, Athenril will get her pay, and we'll all be happy."

"Yes!" He agreed fervently, already making plans to ensure that any such collection would never happen, that this thug would never make it past the front door.

"Oh, and one more thing," the woman held up one finger, before running it along his jawline and watching him through her long eyelashes. "If you try to skip town, or throw armed guards at us when we come to collect, there won't be enough left of you to feed your ugly frou-frou hounds. Understood?"

"U-u-under-s-stood!" He stuttered, his voice trembling as he pulled out his wallet. Before he could pry it open, two of her fingers had flipped the thing into her possession. Looking through it, she raised an eyebrow at him, and pulled out the ten sovereigns she'd agreed to take.

"I count twelve, darling." She patted him on the cheek. "But I'll let you keep the two, since I like blonds."

He blanched, unable to say more. He faintly wondered if his pants were suddenly feeling a little warm, and how close he'd come to being shanked by this strange, terrifying young woman. She winked, and sashayed off with her sister trailing behind uncertainly. Realizing that, for the moment, he'd managed to walk away from Athenril's right-hand woman with his life, the man felt the strength drain out of him. Eyes rolling into his skull, he collapsed to the stone ground with a soft thud.

"Was it really necessary to lay it on so thick, Lysandra?" Bethany asked, struggling to keep up with the confident stride of her older sister. "You know, there are times when I wonder about your sanity."

"He wouldn't have listened to me if I'd gone straight thug on him," she replied in amusement. "He would've written me off as a dumb little shit, and would've offered me three sovereigns before running back to his estate with guards. Now, don't get me wrong," she grinned at her sister. "Getting people to underestimate you is also a valid tactic. But Athenril has been grumbling about us being too soft on some of her clients, which I totally blame you for. Let's call these sovereigns the 'Getting Back in Athenril's Good Graces' fund."

"You know, the year is almost up," Bethany pointed out cautiously. "We won't have to answer to her for much longer."

"Another reason we don't want to piss her off!" Lysandra shook her head, letting her own dark hair tumble about her shoulders with a silken sway. "She's looking for reasons to extend our servitude towards her. If we do our job flawlessly for the next few weeks, she'll have nothing to complain about and let us off the hook. The contract will be fulfilled, blah blah blah..."

"Sister, that 'blah blah blah' is rather important, considering it affects both our and Mother's future..." Tired of playing her sister's games, Bethany halted, crossing her arms over her chest. "And then what will we do, when this is all done? We have no job prospects. We're no better than criminals! Who would hire us?"

Lysandra stopped to regard her sister with boredom written all over her features. "So we'll work as mercs for a while. Build on our reputation as steady, reliable hires, and we can work our way up the ladder. Maybe Aveline can even put in a good word for us with the guard!"

"Sister, do you really think that the Captain of the Guard would hire a smuggler and a mage into his ranks?" Bethany pouted. "Even if he lost his good judgment and hired a maniac like you, I wouldn't go very far before the templars would catch notice of the guardsman using a fireball to arrest her criminals."

Pressing her lips together, frustrated at her sister's sound logic, Lysandra finally smiled and wrapped Bethany in a tight hug. "Don't worry yourself over it, Sunshine. We'll make things work out. That's what we Hawkes do."

"I guess we'll have to," Bethany sighed, though she returned her sister's embrace.

"That's the spirit!" Lysandra cackled as she released her sister again, flipping the pouch she'd stuck the sovereigns in. It wasn't long before she began whistling tunelessly, adding a bounce to her step. Watching her crazy sister, Bethany couldn't help but smile. Even when things were at their darkest, she could count on her sister to make sure they'd pull through again.