Author's note. Takes place about two days after the events in Chapter 20 of the Hourglass, on the forced march to Denerim, late one evening. For those who just /have/ to know what actually happened, go and look for my short piece Justice and Mercy which is a missing chapter of The Hourglass, set immediately after Chapter 20 and firmly M rated. If you prefer not to know, then feel free to use your imagination. Zevran certainly did. :)

"I tell you, my dwarven friend, they did."

"And I still sodding say they didn't."

The argument had now been going round in circles for over an hour.

"Look at her, my friend. That woman is glowing."

Oghren burped. "And how you'd tell that under all the armour and the mud..."

Zevran sighed. "And how about that poor young servant of Bann Teagan's - Martin? He came back to the kitchens yesterday morning in a state of near collapse - Wolf apparently had been set to guard Loghain's door and went for him when he tried to take washwater to Loghain. If our grumpy ex-Teyrn had got out there a minute later, the lad would...tell me, does the term "castrato" translate?"

The dwarf took another swig from his bottle. "I still say that proves nothing. That Mabari guarded the door of the room they shared at the Peak, and you know as well as I do that nothing happened."

"Martin said that Loghain was wearing nothing but a towel when he answered the door."

"Proves nothing. The old sod probably sleeps in the altogether. Did he see Muirnara in there as well?"

"Apparently not." Zevran tossed another log onto the campfire. "But Loghain just took the water and sent Martin back to the kitchen to seek medical assistance."

"There you are then."

"I tell you, dwarf, they have. They're even sharing a tent now."

"They shared a tent on the way to Ostagar. Leliana said they did nothing in it but sleep, and she was in the tent next to them, so she should know. And given how cold it is, most people are sharing their sodding tents anyway."

"You aren't."

"Nobody would share."

"And have you seen the way she's walking? And the way she sits down...carefully?" Zevran cast a glance over to the tent in question. The tent flap was shut. Wolf was sitting in front of it, apparently at attention. Most people had taken one look at him and given the tent a wide berth. Word had got around.

Oghren shook his head. "It's cold, she's sleeping on hard ground, this is a forced march. Elf, it would be more surprising if she wasn't walking stiff and sore. Doesn't mean anything."

Zevran laughed. "My friend, she has walked like that since Redcliffe. Now, I can name you fourteen consensual activities in the bedchamber that would affect a woman's gait in that manner, and a further eight if a lesser degree of consensuality is required."

Oghren wrinkled his nose. "And I say stiff muscles, cold weather, and the armour chafing will do the same sodding thing."

Zevran most uncharacteristically stuck an arm towards Oghren's bottle, which the surprised dwarf passed to him, and took a gulp. "Well, my friend, only one way to find out. I have twenty five silvers that says they have."

Oghren reclaimed the bottle and laughed. "Do you just like losing money, elf?"

The elf pulled a face. "That is just foul, what you are drinking, my friend. But warming, I will admit. Do you accept the bet?"

"Very old Orzammar recipe, this is." Oghren shook the bottle. "And I have twenty five silvers that says not a chance. They haven't."

"Right." Zevran stood up as Loghain walked back into the camp.

Oghren's bushy eyebrows vanished into his hairline as he watched. "You're not just going to ask him..."

Zevran had already accosted Loghain. "My friend. If I may call you so. I have a question."

Loghain paused on the way back to the tent and gazed at the elf. "Yes Zevran?" He seemed amused.

Zevran shrugged. "I wish to end an old conversation with you, and settle a score with that dwarf. You and our lovely Warden. Back at Redcliffe. Am I to assume you did not...?"

There was silence. Utter silence. Even the sounds from the main camp seemed muted.

Loghain looked at Zevran for a long moment, and both elf and dwarf waited for the explosion.

"Elf, let me just say this." He had stepped over the Mabari and was unlacing the tent flap. Then before he went inside, his eyes met Zevran's and there was even a hint of laughter there. "Some of your advice...was listened to."

Then he slipped into the tent, and the tent flap fell shut behind him. Zevran and Oghren looked at each other. Without comment, Oghren reached into his belt pouch and counted out twenty five silvers.

Zevran was still staring at the closed tent. "All I can say, my friend," he murmured under his breath. "is about bloody time too."