He sat curled on the overhang, back pressed to the rising cliff face, looking out across the clearing below. The others had pitched their camp close to the entrance to the gorge, keeping as far as they could from the wreckage. A few had ventured far enough to gather firewood from the splintered crates and wagons, shielding their noses against the stench.

One arm rested cross his upraised knee, dagger flicking idly beneath his fingernails as he watched her brave the path, lifting her skirts as she stepped wide of the forgotten travelers.

"I take it you aren't coming to bed?"

He grinned, shrugging as he spirited the blade away. "The itch has returned, has it?"

Serah only snorted, curling her legs beneath her as she sat beside him. Still he watched the path below, her head turning to follow his gaze. "What do you see?"

"Mmm?"

"What do you see? When you look down there? Death? Your ambush? Or something more?"

"You are a philosopher now?"

She laughed. "I can be whatever you like. But I have a way of… reading people. Men. Professionally. And there is something troubling you… more than you let on."

Clucking his tongue, he turned away. "To think I had almost forgotten the ways of whores. Fortune tellers and nursemaids , mothers and lovers and councilors…" He smirked into the darkness.

"I have seen it before. There are men who come eager, of course, who take their pleasures with relish. But then there are those who do not blink, whose eyes turn distant no matter how you moan. I have seen them come to drink, to gamble, to fight with whoever might turn a lucky blade. I have skills. I can be many things… but I cannot be death. That, I think, is all that any such man desires."

"Such is the way of assassins, my dear. The good ones, at least."

"And when the Grey Wardens arrive? What then?"

He turned to her. "Then? Then we dance."

Serah rose slowly, brushing the dust from her skirts. She glanced back as she turned away, eyes narrowing. "The offer stands. Anything you like."

"And it is a tempting offer, to be sure."

"Yet you will not take it… You're not dead yet, you know."

He chortled, eyes trailing slowly upward to her smile. "Give me but a moment."

"Suit yourself."

As she disappeared down the hill he curled round, pillowing his head on an arm as he pressed his back against the stone. He could hear the laughter floating cross the clearing, the softer sounds, muffled cries rising as the night deepened. Larin's voice was unmistakable. Serah had perhaps become impatient, or Caryn or one of the others. Sliding back against the hill, he kept his eyes on the path.

It would have been a good dream. Zevran stirred, hands sliding beneath his blankets as the moan echoed near his ear. Familiar sounds, pleasant sounds, but these were muffed, angry, real. His eyes fluttered open.

Rinna had lay her bedroll near his own, closer now than in those early weeks. But it hulked there, close in the darkness, the blankets kicked aside as the shadow pinned her down. His hand was clamped cross her mouth, the other freeing himself from his breeches as he slid her skirts higher.

"Taliesin!"

Zevran rolled, elbow taking the other man in the gut. His balance faltered as Rinna bucked, knee striking home. She followed the momentum as he grunted, straddling the man as he fell back against the grass. Where the blade had come from even Zevran could not say, but she pressed it to Taliesin's throat as she leaned low.

"Thought you had her tamed, Zev."

Rinna growled, a fine line of red trickling down his neck.

Zevran crouched behind her, hands rubbing gentle but insistent over her shoulders. "Move."

She leaned lower, pressed closer.

"Rinna."

Reluctantly she lifted the blade, keeping it to hand as she slid aside. Zevran was quick to take her place, knees digging hard against the other man's thighs.

And still Taliesin grinned up at him. "What? You said—"

Zevran's fist came down hard, driving his face into the dirt.

Laughing, Taliesin spat blood. "Don't think I've ever seen you hit someone."

"It is not my preferred method, true."

"Lucky me." He pushed himself to his elbows as Zevran slid aside.

Rinna was watching them both, head tilting quizzically as Zevran rubbed at his knuckles. She rose without a word, disappearing into the trees as she tucked the dagger into her belt.

Sitting now, Taliesin chuckled.

"Don't, my friend." Zevran rose quick, holding up a forestalling hand. "Just… give me a moment."

She hadn't gone far. At his approach Rinna turned, laughing despite the flatness of her glare.

"This is funny, is it?"

"In its way."

"I feel I should… apologize." He stepped close, running a hand along her arm.

"And yet you won't." She shook her head before he could protest. "Don't. It's not your fault. I have seen the way he stares."

"Suspicion, I thought. Nothing more."

"Perhaps you don't know him as well as you think."

Zevran smirked at that. "So it appears. But we have worked together many times. I know something of his ways."

"No doubt." Her face darkened as she raised her eyes to his. "And is that the only way you know to earn someone's trust?"

He turned away a moment, gaze straying to the trees. It was almost laughable, certainly, but still he could feel her eyes on him, the warmth of her as she pressed close. "Yes."

"Well then."

He sighed. "You would kill him if I let you?"

"Yes."

"And he you, I think."

"So that only leaves you." Her hand fluttered against his chest, cheek turning to rest upon his shoulder. "What will you do?"

Trailing an idle hand through her hair, he chuckled.

"Things are what they are, happen as they will. We should both know that by now. We do what we must." She traced a finger upward, following the designs of his neck. "So… do you let us kill each other, then, or…?"

Zevran smirked. "Perhaps it is you that I do not know so well as I thought."

"Perhaps not."

As they turned from the trees, she laced her fingers through his. Taliesin blinked at that, coming to his feet with an exaggerated groan. "Great."

Zevran met his glare for a long moment. "I have been… unfair to you, my friend."

Taliesin snorted.

Holding still to his eyes, Zevran wrapped an arm round Rinna's waist, pulling her roughly to him as he bent his face to hers. Had he expected fear? Reluctance? But her lips met his, teeth nipping, biting deep, her gasp escaping thick when at last he pulled away.

Turning to Taliesin, he could feel his chest heave, tongue snaking cross his lips in invitation. The other man's grin was wicked.

He felt him slip behind him as he returned to Rinna, running coarse and clawed fingers down his spine. Zevran shivered, normally deft fingers stumbling as he worked the laces of her bodice. Taliesin's hand moved lower now, tickling cross his ribs, reaching round to the tensing muscles of his belly as Rinna's dress fell away. He was already stirring as Taliesin's hands slipped below his waistband to pull him free.

Rinna stepped back then, something of a smile spreading as she watched them. Taliesin was nipping at his neck and shoulders now, wrapping both arms round as his grip tightened. Rough hands ripped at Zevran's laces, his own legs kicking hastily to send the offending leathers sliding to the ground. Taliesin's other hand slipped lower still, moving in rhythm with its mate. Zevran leaned his head back against the larger man's chest with a moan.

But Rinna was there once more, pressing, twisting as her breasts were crushed against him. The sudden touch of a third – fourth! – hand was almost more than he could bear. He found her lips with a desperate gasp, the laugh blooming thick in his throat.

There seemed to be a struggle there, a wordless battle fought for his very flesh, their hands overlapping, brushing each other aside, Taliesin's growl hot against his ear. Rinna seemed to relent, moving away – before the sudden burst of warmth sent Zevran's legs to buckling. She watched him from her knees, smirking as her head again dipped low.

Letting his head loll, he lay a kiss against Taliesin's cheek. "It seems you are beaten, my friend."

With a grunt he slipped away, moving to stand behind Rinna. There he lingered for a time, watching, hand straying idly along his thigh. At Zevran's nod, he bent low, lifting Rinna by her shoulders. She made no protest, though her final kiss lingered long enough to leave him gasping in pain.

Taliesin stepped close, pressing her between them. Trailing a finger along her chin, Zevran tilted her mouth to his, his tongue plunging, flitting, drinking deep of that first bitter taste. His other hand slipped low, parting her, chuckling at her already welcoming heat. She rolled her hips against him, leaving Taliesin cold, his arm wrapping roughly round them both. He moved awkwardly, grip tightening for balance. It was only when Rinna's laughter tickled cross his lips that Zevran realized the other man had finally shed his breeches. He pressed against them with renewed vigor, hands slipping between them to tighten white-knuckled round Rinna's breasts.

Still Zevran's fingers were lost to her, a sudden plunge bringing her gasping to her toes. His other hand snaked behind her thigh, lifting her to him, her head falling back against Taliesin as her legs locked round Zevran's waist. There she balanced, sighing as hand left her, crying out as it was swiftly and roughly replaced. He felt Taliesin's hands slide beneath her, gripping hard to that tender flesh, moving with them as she rose and fell.

Slowly Zevran bent his knees, lowering them to the ground. Still Rinna was held between them, nibbling at Zevran's lips as Taliesin knelt behind. But the other man moved suddenly aside, laughing as she toppled back into the grass. Pitching forward, Zevran was able to catch her, eyes snapping up with a hiss. Taliesin grinned.

Rinna, though, twisted against him one last time, supporting herself on his shoulders as she rose shakily to her feet. It was to Taliesin that she moved now, pausing to glare down at him. Kneeling still, he slipped a hand round her waist, burying his face against her. Rinna gasped.

Slowly she sank, hands bracing against Taliesin's chest to push him back. He acquiesced, leaning to grin at Zevran over her shoulder as he pulled her to him. Rinna's hand shot for his throat.

"Heh. If that's how you want it, by all means."

"Shut up."

Her legs stiffened, lowering herself slowly. But his hips thrust quick, the laugh rumbling deep as her fingers tightened round his neck. His own hands slipped low, dimpling the tender flesh of her hips as he jerked her closer still.

Rinna's hand pulled back, tracing hesitant along the roughness of his cheek, the bruise of Zevran's blow already purpling beneath his eye. The slap rang loud, Taliesin's head snapping to the side as he cursed. His hips rose again, her gasp bringing a bitter chuckle.

But Zevran was there then, slipping behind her to straddle Taliesin's thighs, cradling her cheek against his own as her head snapped back. Her neck twisted, lips seeking his, soft and desperate beneath her ragged breaths. He rocked with them, one hand sliding up and over her breasts, the other slipping low. It lingered there, playing against them both, fluttering up and over the folds of her.

Her lips remained locked to his, one hand cupping his cheek to hold them there, pressing back against him hard as she could. Still Taliesin bucked beneath them but Zevran moved his hands to her face now, tangling in her hair, holding her gaze, trapping her here, trapping them both.

The grass had torn away beneath his fingers, brittle and tawny and dead. His palm pressed hard against the earth, biting as he pushed himself to his feet. The clearing below was silent, belonging only to the corpses rotting there, the shadows of broken things.

And still it stirred him, that strange and darkened memory. He was not dead yet, she had said. Zevran chuckled beneath his breath as he descended the hill.