Chapter 3

[Green Eyes]

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Daveth watched the merchant attentively, leaning nonchalantly against the corner of a building and munching an apple, trying to settle his rolling stomach. He had stolen before, back in Lothering on occasion, but never in such a large crowd, and with such high stakes – he had just seen an Elf boy, a little younger than him, steal a piece of bread from a baker's stall; the woman noticed and had started shrieking. The poor boy had been grabbed by the guards – when he tried to resist and squirm away, they had thrown him to the ground and kicked him until he lay still. Daveth swallowed hard – the boy had been starved, and had been beaten to death for trying to survive.

The rogue had seen very few Elves before now; some that he had known were farmers or laborers in Lothering, but most others had been servants – here, they looked more like slaves. Daveth watched as a young noblewoman browsed the market stalls, a small Elf girl with demure posture keeping by her mistress's elbow. A few Elves carried boxes and barrels far too large for them, struggling as they took the loads in pairs, working under the watchful eyes of their employers.

All around the market, Daveth could see them, dotted here and there by shops, interspersed among the shoppers, or lingering by the mouths of alleys. They all had the same hunted, wary look in their eyes – they were treated as outsiders, despite making up at least a third of Denerim's population. Daveth could see the Alienage gates from where he stood – there was a steel portcullis that he assumed would be lowered at night, keeping the Elves from wandering out past curfew.

Concentrate, he reminded himself as he took another bite of his apple. He shivered as he felt eyes on his back, turning slightly – a little Elf boy was watching him with big, grey eyes, hiding behind a stack of crates. He was painfully thin; all ribs and bones, with a wan complexion and tightly-drawn skin. Daveth knelt as he saw the child eyeing his food, motioning for him to come over. The boy timidly approached, his eyes moving warily about the alley, lingering on Daveth's weapons. The rogue smiled gently, holding out the half-eaten apple. The Elf snatched it from his fingers and pelted down the alleyway, eating so fast that he nearly choked on the fruit. Daveth let out a long sigh as he straightened, returning his focus to the market.

His target was a tall merchant, dealing in Orlesian silks. The man looked well-dressed, and well-fed – he wouldn't lose much if Daveth cut his purse. The rogue walked into the crowd, losing himself in the faces as he absently browsed the stalls, making his way ever closer to his mark. There were plenty of dark-skinned Rivaini and Antivans about the market; one half-Chasind face wouldn't draw undue attention in the crowd. This will be too easy, he thought – the merchant was being chatted up by some perfume seller in the next stall, and Daveth almost smirked as he reached for the purse.

He was concentrating so much on his mark that he didn't notice the Elf until their hands touched, their fingers tangling in the strings of the merchant's wallet. Daveth stared into a pair of big, frightened eyes, the brightest green he had ever seen. A red-haired Elf girl was staring right back at him, her mouth partially opened with surprise.

The two nearly leapt out of their skin as the merchant whirled around, and the perfume seller screamed. Sod, they'll kill her, Daveth thought as he looked back at the Elf – the merchant had grabbed her wrist in a vice grip, and was holding her off the ground with one hand. The rogue kicked the merchant in the back of the knee, making the man stagger and drop the terrified girl. Daveth swore under his breath – the market was too crowded, and he didn't know where they could lose the guards as the armed men barreled through the sea of people, coming at the sound of screaming.

"Come with me," the Elf hissed, grabbing Daveth's wrist and turning on her heel, dragging him through the crowd as they ducked through the bodies. The guards spotted them, but were caught in the tangled knots of shoppers as they struggled to get through. "Can you climb?" the girl asked hurriedly as the pair rushed down an alleyway, and Daveth nodded mutely.

She let go of his hand and ran up a stack of crates, leaping onto the rooftop of a nearby building. She's like a cat, he thought, following behind, though with a bit less grace. The guards had managed to break through the crowd, and were trying to follow them across the rooftops – the crates wobbled under their weight, and only two of the younger guards were agile enough to clamber up.

Daveth chased after his rescuer, keeping close to the Elf as she leapt across narrow gaps between buildings, skidding to a halt and swearing – they had reached a dead-end, and below lay the river, dark and fast as it rushed toward the sea. The guards had caught up to them by now, and surrounded the pair of thieves, drawing their weapons as they saw Daveth's knives. The girl grabbed Daveth's arm as he took a nervous step back, keeping himself between the guards and the Elf.

"We need to jump," she whispered, and he looked at her with astonishment – the river was below them, yes, but Daveth didn't know how deep the water was. And he couldn't swim, either way. "You need to trust me," she added, and Daveth looked into her bright eyes; they had grown calm, and he found that he wasn't afraid anymore.

"Now come along quietly knife-ears," one of the guards said, motioning for the girl to come over.

"Careful, that one looks Chasind," the other warned, and the first one looked at Daveth warily, his eyes darting down to the pair of knives at his belt.

"Ready?" the Elf hissed, and Daveth gave a short nod. She grabbed his hand and whirled around, and the two jumped from the rooftop.

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