Bethany clasped her mouth shut as she watched Hawke lay down the trap. There were two elves with her – two of Athenril's low ranked smugglers. In a second the slick was in place, and her sister ran back into hiding with them. They were down by the docks, near where the chantry received their shipments.

"No one is going to fall for it," Bertol said, shaking his head as he crouched in the shadows.

"Oh ye of little faith," Hawke replied, eyes glinting as she looked at Bethany.

"Why here, sister?" Bethany said with mild exasperation. "The last thing we need is to draw attention from the templars!"

Hawke raised a hand, grinning devilishly, "Well, they come down here, we'll know well ahead of time."

There came a sudden cry of surprise and the crash of armour, and all four of them sucked back between the crates that hid one of the entrances to their auxiliary base.

"What did I tell you!" whispered Hawke enthusiastically, popping up to look towards the stairs. "A dock worker."

"Now I feel bad," Bethany whispered, furrowing her brow. "What if he's a refugee?"

"He isn't," Hawke rolled her eyes, grinning still. "And if we wanted to be mean, I'd have you set it on fire." The two elves laughed.

"Marian!"

"What, I didn't ask you to, did I?" she defended, grinning at her cohorts. "Would you?"

"No!" Bethany answered in a hiss.

Hawke gave a melodramatic sigh as she moved to spy on the location, "He's fine, anyway. Already gone."

"What am I, five again? Across an ocean, and you're still pulling nails out of the chantry cart."

"It was only once, dear sister," Hawke casually said. "And I seem to recall you being rather amused at that outcome."

"Left Carver to get caught, as always," Bethany whispered, and they both fell silent. All four crouched in awkward silence as they waited.

"Shit, Hawke," Bertol grabbed her arm. "It's two templars!"

"Maker's breath," Bethany whimpered, looking down and covering her face.

Hawke shushed them all and watched, one eye snuck around the edge of the crate. They were just about to take the stairs when there was a sound behind them. Standing quick as a flash, they turned to face Athenril, still tucked out of sight of the templars.

"So what are you wasting my time doing today?" Athenril looked at the elves and then the sky, "Shouldn't you two be meeting with Paelan? Go."

"You owe me a silver for that, Bertol! Don't forget it!" Hawke called after them.

Athenril shook her head as the others darted back through the labyrinth of crates and barrels. "Sometimes I wonder if you're more trouble than you're worth, Hawke."

"Good thing you know I am," Hawke said with a grin. There was a cry from down the street and the crunch as someone fell, followed swallowed laughter from Bethany. "Where would you be without your beloved Hawke sisters?"

Athenril rolled her eyes and motioned for them to follow, "I know your year is almost up, but I've gotten wind of a job – a big one. Something I think only you can handle."

"I can't Marian, I just can't," Bethany whispered as they huddled in the shadows. "You saw the templars - they will know for certain."

Hawke closed her eyes and nodded, leaning heavily against the wall. It had taken them half the point to get this far. The berth was almost empty, but a few nighttime workers remained. If what Athenril had said were true, the ledger and trade contracts would be within the locked office nearby.

"Wait here and be my eyes," Hawke finally whispered, sinking down to her knees. She put a flask into her hand. "Stay out of sight. Use this only if necessary, I'll see or hear it."

Bethany readily nodded, shrunk against the wall, eyes bright as she watched and Hawke crouch. The rogue advanced forward in a catlike way, eyes darting with as much caution as she advanced upon the door. Kneeling before it, she inspected the door, refraining from testing the lock as she saw the trap. It would have cut her off at the ankles. Sighing silently, Hawke stayed poised and began to take it apart.

There was a muffled yelp, followed by the crack of glass, and Hawke was on her feet, snapping the trap in an instance. She scarce had time to move as the metal whipped and caught her across the calf, half embedded in her leathers. She cursed loudly, wobbling on her feet as she looked towards her sister.

"Well well, if it ain't Hawke," the man who stood by her said, idly taping Bethany's staff on the ground. Beside him a man had her sister pinned, her arms held and a rough hand over her mouth. The flask was half-broken on the ground behind them, unmixed and useless.

"Jaffy," Hawke said as she extricated herself from the metal whip, gritting her teeth. "I don't appreciate seeing my sister manhandled."

"So you know me?" Jaffy shrugged, his sword in hand as he said, "Don't see much difference. Open th' door."

"What now, needing a woman to do your job?" Hawke casually said, her eyes flecking to Bethany. "I had always thought the Coterie were better than this."

"You've pulled off a lot of jobs for Athenril," Jaffy replied, and Bethany struggled behind him. There was a glint of steel by her throat in the lamplight. "More than her piece o' the pie."

"And everyone always wants more pie," Hawke murmured, still standing in the doorway.

"Somefin like that." Jaffy grinned, "Now open the door or things get bloody."

Hawke looked at Bethany once more, her face shadowed, "Certainly then, old pal."

"Keep a good 'old on that one," Jaffy said to his man, stepping closer to Hawke as she slipped the picks from her gloves and made work of the lock. She finished it and opened the door for him. "I don' think so, lovey. After you."

"Such a gentleman," Hawke replied, keeping her head turned as she advanced through the door into the small shipping office. There were no lights and she used it to her advantage, deliberately kicking a chest and floundering. "Sodding hell, where's a lamp."

"Bloody Fereldens," Jaffy said, reaching for the lantern by the door. In an instance, Hawke was upon him, her dagger pressed up between his thighs. She caught his lips in her other hand.

"You know, people keep saying that to me," Hawke whispered, teasing the cold metal against his daddy bits. "Like it's a request, mmm? Be a shame for your piss and blood to ruin my lovely pantaloons."

Hawke stepped him back against the table, and he squeaked under her hand as she made a passionate sound, "Maker yes!" Staring down at him, she narrowed her eyes, "Best do something to dissuade your men from holding my sister any longer than needed, or you might need to join the chantry boy's choir."

"Rochester, let the girl go, we's got what we need!"

"I think you ruined your trousers, Jaffy," Hawke hissed, and with a flick of her wrist she cut open his pants, and he squeaked again, the sound muffled under her hand. All but purring, she called, "We need to get wet more often, Bethany." She flicked her wrist again, and this time Jaffy screamed.

Hawke turned back, eyes darting around the cabin as the man behind her clutched his loins and crumpled to the ground, blood welling between his fingers. She snatched up the papers she could see, shoving them in her satchel, and Bethany was in the doorway, she pointed at the only visible book, "Grab it - come on, boy! Can't handle a Ferelden woman, can you?"

"What did you do?"

"Run to the water," Hawke said, pushing her back out the door and with a flick of her wrist, a flask burst on the ground, a noxious gas welling. An arrow hit the doorframe beside them, and she pushed Bethany harder. "Go!"

"Where! Run into the water?" Bethany cried as they dashed around the dock and out towards the steps.

"You used to freeze butterflies for fun, what's a little water?" Hawke laughed a little, leg stiff as she hurried after her sister. The deep cut there left a spattered path behind them.

Bethany made a frustrated sound, turning to foist the book into her sister's hands, "Sweet Andraste, you are insane!"

"Any day now, dear sister," Hawke said as she looked back, stuffing the book in her oilskin satchel. Jaffy's cries had dimmed, but she could hear distant footsteps. "Just to the next berth, don't think, just go!"

Shaking her head, Bethany summoned the will, and from her lands leapt a chilling air that coated the surface of the water and the edges of the dock. The vortex of cold extended from her hands and gave a good ten-foot run.

"Perfect!" Hawke cried, laughing wildly. She snagged Bethany's sleeve, and they ran out onto the ice, the thin slick readily cracking under their feet, "More, more!"

"I can't, Marian!" Bethany replied, shrieking as they slipped and reached the end of the ice. An arrow hit behind them, and the makeshift bridge shattered, plunging them into the harbour.

The water drowned out the sounds of their pursuers, and Hawke grabbed Bethany's arm as they floundered in the water. Breaking surface, they panted for air, kicking to swim away as another few arrows hit around them.

"Don't think," Hawke panted, "Swim! Go!"

Drenched, they madly swam for the next berth, which was thankfully empty, and Hawke planted a hand on her sister's backside to push her out of the water before hauling herself up. They choked on the polluted water, shivering in the breeze that came off the water. There were more noises on the docks, and a bell was ringing as workers woke.

"As much as I'd love to stay," Hawke hauled to her feet, offering a hand, "It might be wise we make our departure."

Bethany shook her head, getting up to run with her sister.

"No?"

"Yes!" she breathlessly replied, and they off up the dock, wet footprints and drips left in their wake. "Where are we going? It's gone to shit, Marian!"

"Yes, yes, we're all washed up, I know," Hawke replied as they made it to the relatively empty streets. "Leamin's landing."

They soon dried enough as they ran, scarce avoiding one of the city guards on patrols, and made it to the small nook along the northern wall. Tugging the skeleton key from around her neck, Hawke unlocked the door and ushered Bethany inside, before looking out in the street and following her in. Locking it behind them, she collapsed against the door, panting heavily.

"Maker, please tell me you still have the book," Bethany shook her head, collapsing into the chair by the nonexistent fire.

Hawke slipped down to sit on the ground, shivering for the cold as she pulled her satchel into her lap. Opening it, she tugged out the drenched scrolls, laying them out before inspecting the book. "Light a fire."

Taking the flint from the mantle, Bethany lit the kindling in the hearth, and in a moment they had light and heat. Hawke knelt beside her and opened the strap on the book, flipping the pages open. Water had only soaked around the outer edge, the writing still intact.

"Thank the Maker," Bethany said, closing her eyes and slouching against the mantle.