The next morning Nesiara woke alone. It was just before dawn, and she was still getting use to her husband's early rising routine. So far that had been the only habit of his she couldn't fathom. There was just something wrong about people who liked to wake early. The memory of the night before caused her to hesitate before she rolled out of bed. It wasn't her place to question her new father, any parent for that matter, but she thought it was unfair and undeserved. Elves needed more people like him, not less. He shouldn't be intimidated out of using such a necessary skill. As she dressed she made up her mind to talk to Valendrian. They needed to stand up as a community and be allowed the luxury of a healer that any human would have access to. She descended the latter to find both men quietly eating a simple breakfast of boiled oats, an egg each, and tea. Her chest tightened when she saw her husband's head still bent low. "So," she said into the silence as she took her place, "I'll be going with you to Alarith's this morning. I need some extra fabric for our wedding clothes."

"I won't be there for long," Raviathan said keeping his eyes on his breakfast.

"Oh?" That was unexpected. Deliveries?

Cyrion added, "He'll be going out with Soris to find a regular job."

"Oh." Nesiara picked at her food. It had been wonderful to get to know each other the last month. She was going to miss having time with him, teasing and talking. And making love. She bent over her oats eating slowly. Now that she was here he had less reason to take care of the day to day chores. She had expected another month at least. Still, she could talk to Valendrian. A healer was too vital. The three ate in silence and left the home just as quietly.

When Cyrion turned down the main road, Nesiara took her husband's hand. "You do the Maker's work, my love. I'll always be proud of you." Raviathan squeezed her hand but said nothing.

Isa was behind the counter at Alarith's shop. The young elf fidgeted as she listened to him, her too knowing eyes hard with ugly memories. "Be careful who you work for. Braden is well connected."

There was no way for him to know who was under the noble's influence. Saying so would only worry Nesiara more, so Raviathan nodded. "How are you feeling?" he asked to deflect any other advice.

"I'm okay. Getting used to things here. I liked having you teach me. You're a lot more patient than Alarith."

Raviathan gave her a quick smile but said nothing.

"Hey, cousin," Soris called when he came in to pick up his lunch. He gave Isa and Nesiara a nod then covered a wide yawn.

After giving his wife a last kiss, Raviathan followed Soris out the door. It wasn't until Soris and Raviathan left the shop that Raviathan explained his father's decision. "I expect he talked to Valendrian before he went to work," Raviathan said low so the other elves leaving for work would not overhear them. "To make sure Valendrian enforces his decision."

"I'm not sure everyone is going to listen to Valendrian though. If one of the children is sick, Venri wouldn't give a damn what Valendrian says."

Though Raviathan had clashed with the orphanage matron on occasion, he rather liked the pragmatic woman. She was harassed and tired, but she also took no nonsense when it came to her charges. "Well, it's not my problem anymore."

Soris gave his cousin a sidelong look. "Uh-huh."

Raviathan sighed. "I don't know what to say, cousin. I've disappointed my father so much in the past."

"You make him proud, too." Soris put an arm around his cousin's shoulders. "He has a right to be worried, and that's all this is."

When they neared the gates, they stepped apart to mimic the human patterns of behavior. For some elves, it was as automatic as putting on a coat when they left their home, but for Raviathan and Soris, it was a reminder that they were stepping into unprotected territory. "So, any leads?"

"None," Soris said. "Work is tight. I almost signed up to go with the King's army, but Valora was worried. With some of the elves leaving, I was hoping there might be some openings, but so far nothing. I've searched the Market and west side. Now it's south."

They travelled in a circuit around the outside of the Market. If Soris wondered why Raviathan took the more circuitous route furthest away from the Chantry, he didn't say anything.

"So, how are you and Valora doing?"

Eyes downcast, Soris shrugged. "Alright I suppose. She's a nice person."

It was a less than ringing endorsement considering they were already a month into their handfasting. "Have you…?"

Soris's shoulders hunched, which was reply enough. "I… Maker's breath. I don't know what to do. I can see she's trying, but it's all awkward conversation. Or awkward silences. I just keep thinking… well… that we're supposed to, you know. And I know she's thinking that too. There's all this pressure, but I don't even know her."

"You only get to know her by talking."

"That's part of what makes it so awkward. I look at her, and I think this is it. The rest of my life. With her."

Raviathan had thought the exact same phrase, but their tones couldn't be any more different. "Have you tried something simple? Like holding her hand?"

"Yes, I've tried. Her hand was cold and limp. I felt like I was going to break it or bruise her or something."

"You know Soris, it was awkward for us too in the beginning."

Soris snorted. "That lasted for what? An hour?"

Two actually, but Raviathan couldn't say that. "The only difference is that we both kept pushing through it until it wasn't awkward anymore. It's like when we go swimming. You can try going inch by inch to get accustomed to the cold, or you jump in because once your head is under, you don't care that much."

"I think if I jumped in, she'd call the guards. Or I would. Agh. Can we just drop it? I know you're trying to help…"

"Sure, cousin." Raviathan wondered about his cousin as they made their way through the labyrinthine streets. Was courting Valora difficult because Soris was an orphan? The bonding of a family was tight, and there was no greater fear like being alone. An elf on their own, like Shianni or the orphans, invoked the greatest sense of pity in an alienage. When Raviathan reflected on his cousins' lack of family, he was reminded of just how lucky he was. Raviathan had often slept with his aunt when he had bad dreams or after his mother died. The two of them would practically sleeping on top of each other in her half of the bunk bed, but the sleep they had was sound. Especially after his mother's death, Solyn needed Raviathan's comfort as much as he needed hers. For a week after her death, the three remaining inhabitants of their apartment slept in the large bed together.

When Raviathan asked his aunt why their sleep was soothed by the presence of a loved one, Solyn had explained that their souls travelled together in the Fade, the realm of dreams. The elven affinity for magic made their Fade journey that much stronger for their race as a whole. Sleeping was the most intimate of interactions because you were binding yourself to another while your psyche was laid bare in the Fade. Sometimes the dreamers had the same dream, but that was rare. More often it was like the dreamers existed in different rooms in the same house, together and separate. An orphan rarely had the experience of Fade binding. They were neglected children who never learned proper social interaction.

There was only so much Venri could do. No matter how giving one woman could be, all those children grew up without learning the natural instincts for elves, instincts that family bonding could instill. Soris had told him that the orphans would cry in the night. Many paired up to sleep though that was discouraged as they aged, which Raviathan found heartbreaking even though he understood the reason. Those children were starved for love. Raviathan was going to miss playing with them and telling stories. It felt like he was taking bread away from an emaciated beggar.

They had to double back out of a dead end, both watching for gangs. Denerim was an easy city to get lost in. An arch could be the entrance to a courtyard of a noble, a relic of a building that either continued to another street or a dead end, or a marker of a district. The complex city gave gangs an advantage, and two elves were easy if petty prey.

Back on a main street, Soris spoke again. "Did I tell you? Shianni is going to let us live with her once we're married."

Raviathan squeezed Soris's shoulder. "That's good news. It'll take some of the pressure off." If they were in the alienage, Raviathan would have left his arm around his cousin's shoulders. One glance at the cold shems with their flat eyes was reminder enough. It was like Soris and Raviathan were in another country, or even a separate realm, like the Fade where all the rules were different. At least in the Fade, Raviathan had a handle on the rules.

"So," Soris said when they came to a neighborhood square. "How about you take left, I'll go right, and we meet in the middle?"

"Just go shop to shop and ask them if they have any positions open?"

"Pretty much. Let me tell you, hearing about a hundred 'no's in a row is pretty depressing. Don't let it get to you. What Valendrian said was that even if you get a thousand 'no's, all you need is one yes."

Squaring his shoulders for the task ahead, Raviathan nodded. The two parted, and Raviathan entered the first small shop on the left, a small tailor's shop. A bell sounded when Raviathan pushed open the door, and a tiny wizened human came out from the back. His hair was white, and he wore a smart outfit with bands around his arms to keep the fabric away from his work. "I'm looking for work," Raviathan started.

"No," the man said turning back to the small room.

"I know how to sew. I can mend…"

"Said no. Be on your way."

No number one, Raviathan thought as he left the store. Nine hundred and ninety nine more to go.

~o~O~o~

Nesiara left the store with an earthen brown silk swatch that would compliment her husband's skin tone. Spying Valendrian in the square, she hurried over to him. "Hahren. I need a word with you."

A bakery vendor was setting up his stall, and elves passed by on their way to work. The aged elf put an arm around her shoulders. "Not here," he said leading her to his home on the other side of the square.

Considering he had no family, Nesiara was surprised by the opulence of his home. Two whole rooms for one elf, and it was so well furnished. Even proper carpets made of minuscule, time consuming knot work, not the corded rags of her own home. "Have a seat, young one."

Valendrian set bread, a jar of preserves, and tea before her, customary for a guest. "Thank you, hahren."

"Now." Valendrian sat with her. "This is about Raviathan."

Nesiara nodded, her eyes roaming over the large interior. "Yes, hahren." She shook herself. "Ser, would you talk to father about letting Rav practice medicine? I…"

Valendrian took her hand between his own, his aged skin like warm parchment, dry and fine. Arthritis knotted his knuckles. "Youngin, before you go on, I understand. We need someone with his skills. It's why I said nothing for years, and in doing so, betrayed a friend."

"Then why?"

"You didn't see what happened to her. Solyn was a capable woman. I suspect she had the same training her sister did. You know about Adaia? Who she was and how she died?" Nesiara nodded. Shianni had told her how Raviathan's mother had died. A group of violent shems came to the alienage. They were stronger. They had weapons. The elves had nothing except one woman who would fight back and was mortally wounded in the process. Valendrian rubbed Nesiara's hand as he turned inward in memory. "You have no idea the pain we all went through when Solyn disappeared. Ness, what I'm to say to you does not leave this house. Alarith doesn't need any more pain. Neither does Cyrion or Raviathan. Your word."

"Yes, hahren. I swear."

"You need to understand what's at stake. Otherwise I would not speak of it." Valendrian squeezed her hand, his head bowed. "She was a good woman. There were times I thought we were blessed by the Maker to have such a woman here." Valendrian raised his head, years of sorrow lining his aged face. "For weeks she was left in an alley hidden by garbage. Naked. Beaten to death, tortured, old blood down her legs. You can't imagine what it was like. Rav only found her because she started to rot in the summer heat. Ness, we all suffered when she was lost.

"Ask yourself if you're willing to lose your husband. Have him disappear one day. Before Solyn died, I would have said the needs of everyone outweigh some remote chance… but after? I've seen people in grief. It's all too easy for one heartbroken elf, too hurt to think beyond their pain… Solyn was alone, and her training just wasn't enough to protect her. I won't put Rav in that position. Can you understand that Ness?"

Nesiara sipped her tea taking the time to consider. "Hahren, I respect you, and I respect my father. I can't help but feel this decision is a waste. If there's a danger, then we find ways to minimize it. What happened to his aunt is a tragedy, but I don't see why…"

Valendrian raised a hand for silence. "I have other reasons."

"Other reasons? Hahren…"

"Rumors and suspicions, nothing I can give voice to yet, but enough that I feel this is the correct course of action. At least for now." He rubbed his forehead, his creased lips pressed closed. "Ness, I understand your frustrations. I share them. One day I hope the alienage can have the healer it needs."

Nesiara clasped her hands under the table, worry tightening her chest. What could make her hahren fear so? "Is it serious?"

"A reason for caution. Ness, your husband is dear to me. This decision is for him. Be patient."

"Yes, hahren."

"If anything becomes serious, I'll let you know. For now, don't let shadows trouble you. I'd rather be overly cautious than wrong."

"Thank you, hahren." Nesiara kissed his cheek in parting. Though comforted by Valendrian's precautions, Nesiara wondered what danger her husband could be in. Both his mother and aunt died in violent attacks. Could it have something to do with Adaia being a bard? Spy and thief, she must have made enemies. If Solyn had the same training, could both their deaths actually have been assassinations rather than random murders? It seemed clear that in Solyn's case it was deliberate. Did Rav know why? He was so certain it had been templars. Did Solyn do something to upset the Chantry? Nesiara clutched the wrapped fabric to her chest. That didn't explain why becoming a healer would be dangerous for her husband.

"Hey, cousin," Shianni said. "Didn't you hear me?"

"What? Oh, sorry. I guess I was lost in thought," Nesiara said and tried to smile.

Shianni laughed to her confusion. "You and Rav are quite the pair. He gets like that all the time. I'll be screaming bloody murder, and he'll look up, 'huh? Did you say something?'" Shianni linked her arm with Nesiara viewing the package with interest. "Is that the new fabric?"

"Yes."

"Oh good. Valora is coming over to my place, so we can work on these." Shianni glanced around to make sure no one was in ear shot. "I got a bottle of wine," she whispered. "We can make a party of it."

It wasn't even noon yet. Nesiara shook her head awed by Shianni's endless stomach. Her cousin's bright mood was infectious, and Nesiara let thoughts of intrigue go. Valendrian was looking out for them, and if there was something serious, her husband would tell her.

~o~O~o~

"Get out you thieving knife ears. We've got no work for your kind."

"But I know how to cook," Raviathan said following the great human around a bann's kitchen. The man stank of alcohol, and large stains from sweat and grease covered his clothes. Working for a drunk carried a host of problems, and Raviathan knew he'd be dodging fists on bad days. "My grandmother cooked for a lord and taught me everything. I can make breads, desserts, and I know six basic sauce types. I'm fast too. Give me a carrot and tell me how you want it…"

The human rounded on him, his red face turning purple, the broken capillaries on his nose ready to burst. "I said no! I'm sick to death of you bloody knife ears dirtying up my kitchen! Out!"

Depressing wasn't the word for it. The shadows cast by the buildings were growing long, and Raviathan felt miserable as he left the back door of the estate.

At the end of the first day, Soris and Raviathan had returned home in defeat. After another week of looking, Soris had found work in the carpenter's hall. The job was little more than cleaning and serving the craft masters and their journeymen, but at least it was solid work. Raviathan was glad for his cousin as Soris didn't have a family to help supplement his income. Searching for work without his cousin for moral support was a much tougher grind though.

Even when there was work available, Raviathan had yet to find a place that would hire an elf. He had begged at the book stores and music shops he had come across until the owners threatened to call the guards. One owner had taken a swipe at his head with a lute case. The rejections were all the worse because he had the skills for that kind of work. More than any other child in the alienage, he had spent most of his life training.

Denerim wasn't the same city it had been weeks ago. With the lords off to war, many elven servants found themselves out of work. Grand estates stood dark and empty, locked up with a minimal guard. Once the nobles returned, floors would need sweeping, banquets cooked, sheets washed, piss bowels emptied, and all the hundreds of other jobs fit for lowly knife ears. Elves were the most expendable, the first to go. With rising food costs, faces in the alienage were getting leaner. Luckily, his father had been with Bann Rodolf long enough that his job was secure.

More than the lack of work, half the guards had left with the soldiers. Since Raviathan had rarely left the alienage before, he didn't notice much of a difference, but the other elves never left alone anymore. He wasn't sure how much of that was paranoia, but there were more bruises and black eyes around the alienage. Paranoia or not, he made Nesiara promise not to leave the alienage without Alarith as her escort. As his mother would say, there was daring, and there was stupid. Taking precautions never hurt.

Outside the of the estate's high walled courtyard, the wind picked up. Raviathan hunched against the cold that whipped around him and chapped his ears. Time to go back to the alienage anyway. Raviathan left the estates along south side the river, the wind creating a low howl along the stone walls of the canal. Home wasn't much warmer lately. His father had said little during the last week, and dinner was tense despite Nesiara's attempts to liven conversation. Raviathan wondered if there ever going to be a time when he didn't have to hide or feel shame. At least with his wife he never felt that way.

Thoughts of Nesiara lifted his mood as he trotted through the streets. Every day he returned home heart sick, the incessant rejections and slurs making him feel like a failure. She would greet him, but he would not say a word. Instead, Raviathan went to her, buried his face in her sweet smelling hair, felt her soft curves press against him. He would linger there and let the chaos and weight drain away as her warmth revived him. Nesiara held him, and in their quiet embrace, his peace would return.

Nessa was still settling in, and Raviathan got the impression that her own home had been a quiet one. Having known him since childhood, Nessa was surprised by Raviathan's silence, but he simply didn't feel like talking lately. It was enough to be home and listen to his wife. He enjoyed hearing about her day, the crafts she was planning, or what gossip she had about the elves. Just being with her was calming. He would hold her hand under the table, thankful for her presence. Raviathan knew Nesiara was worried by his silence. When they went to bed in the evening, he would speak to her without words, show her the love he held for her alone.

A blurry lunge, and jaws snapped a foot away from Raviathan's face. Raviathan jerked back, his heart racing. The ragged dog snarled and snapped, straining at the length of his chain. The shem holding the dog laughed displaying yellow teeth that stuck out in all directions. Strong arms grasped Raviathan when he bumped into the shem behind him. The dog yowled, lunging for him again. Raviathan flinched, wrenching as far away as he could in his trap.

"Something about knife ears he just hates," the man holding the dog said. His arms jerked each time the dog launched himself, each snap coming that much closer. The dog, a scrawny, blue grey deerhound, started to choke but did not relent. The chain rattled and snapped taut when he lunged again, his forelegs off the ground. His fur was gone where the chain had rubbed it off, his skin raw underneath. Raviathan's heart beat wildly, his bowels clenched. Though shocked by the dog's attack, Raviathan couldn't help but feel pity for the crazed animal. "He'd take off that pretty face, he would. Whew, would you just look at him." The dog gagged, slobber and a trail of green vomit dripping from the howling animal.

"Let me go." Raviathan flinched again when the dog backed up and lunged forward. Struggle as he might, the thick shem behind him had him in an iron grip. "I don't have any money."

"Your kind never does," the shem holding him said. Just the shem's massive forearms, straining at the cloth of his shirt, were larger than Raviathan's thighs.

"Heh, look at him. 'Bout ready to piss himself, he is."

Raviathan caught the eye to two elves on the other end of the street staring at the scene. They hunched, their heads down, and hurried away. Not that he expected them to intervene. Three elves against two humans and a dog wasn't a fair fight, but they didn't even shout for help. Raviathan's disgust for them matched his own for not paying attention. His mother had taught him better.

"Now look here, sweetling," the dog owner said. "We just want a bit of fun. You can do that now, can't you, lovey."

The dog lunged again, this time the chain jerking him by the neck so he spun in mid air. Poor dog. Poor bloody, starved, and abused dog. Raviathan hated the crunch the dog's leg made when he slammed his foot down. The ulna and radius, the long bones of the dog's forelimb, snapped clean. Raviathan didn't have a choice. There was no way he could out run it. The dog yowled a high, thin note, and Raviathan felt sick.

"What…?"

Raviathan tried to kick the instep of the shem holding him. He got a glancing blow, maybe causing a bruise but not enough damage. The shem's hands tightened painfully, partially lifting him off the ground. The dog was howling, his jaws snapping rapidly. Raviathan just got his ankles out of the way then kicked the dog in the head, smashing the animal's head into the stone street.

The ugly shem was before him, arm raised to backhand him. Raviathan kicked out again. This time he felt no disgust when the shem's knee shattered under his foot. The shem fell over his dog and onto his back, clutching his knee and screaming.

Raviathan was whirled around, and for the first time got a look at his assailant. What...? For a moment Raviathan froze in shock. The shem… had a horn. A thick, ridged horn grew out of his left temple. At first Raviathan thought it had to be a helmet, and he just wasn't seeing clearly. Some shems decorated their helmets so. He'd seen that on the dwarven made helmets sold in the Market. It couldn't be. This shem had a horn. The other one looked like it had been sawed off. Ragged horn bits clung around the outside and faded saw marks scarred the flat interior. What shem had horns? The shem had purple eyes and grayish bronze skin, and Maker he was huge, bigger than any shem Raviathan had seen before.

Raviathan barely had time to duck the first blow. The giant shem had him by one arm still, his other hand balled into a fist and pulling back for a second punch. Maker help me! The shem was huge and pissed, his face twisted in a snarl. The giant was taking his time, wanting to make his captive fear the blow before it hit. This shem's reach was far greater than Raviathan's. No kicks would work this time, but with one arm free, Raviathan pulled out the small kitchen knife he carried in his boot. He stabbed the strange shem in the wrist. The giant might be twice Raviathan's size, but the fine veins and arteries in his wrist were just as vulnerable.

The giant's fingers immediately went slack. The blow was already headed for his face, but Raviathan dodged it easily now that he was free. The ugly shem on the ground made a feeble reach for Raviathan's ankle as he sped away. For a split second Raviathan thought about stomping on the shem's hand to break more bones, but he just wanted to get away.

Raviathan raced down the street with the bellows of the two shems following him. A heavy, red headed human walked around the corner, and Raviathan pushed against him to shift his momentum. "Here now, what?" the man called out as he stumbled back. Raviathan took no noticed as he sped down the street.

The metallic clank of armor sounded from around the next corner, and Raviathan ducked behind the high stoop of a building. Three guards jogged down the street, oblivious to the hiding elf. One shouted at the red head, "You there. Did you see a few men attacking an elf?"

The red head's voice was surprisingly high for his size. "Them's the humans over there, I think. Elf headed south way down the street. 'Fraid I didn't get a good look at him." When the guards continued on, the red head gave Raviathan a wink. Raviathan grinned back and gave a small wave of thanks. Maybe there was one human in Thedas he didn't hate. That, and the two elves had called the guards for him. Raviathan gave thanks to the Maker and headed off.

Glad to be in the busier streets, Raviathan ran ducking and dodging around the shems. Luck had been on his side in that his attackers were unarmored and untrained. He couldn't afford to be so unaware.

"Rav!"

He turned at the sound of his name and saw the two elves who had called the guards. Relief now that he wasn't alone, Raviathan jogged over and hugged them.

"Maker's breath you had us scared." Giles, a raw boned man with a narrow face, embraced him.

"How did you get away?" Curran asked.

"Had a knife on me."

"Just a knife? Against… them?" Curran shook his head in shock. "In the Maker's name. Why would you be out here by yourself? You know it's not safe."

"Looking for work," Raviathan said. The three hurried, eager to be home before the gates closed.

"No reason to risk yourself," Curran said, his arm over Raviathan's shoulders. Raviathan still felt shaky on the inside, and he was grateful for the presence of his fellows.

"What are you two doing south anyway?" Raviathan asked. Giles and Curran were dock workers and rarely came to the south part of the city.

"Send off a message," Giles said. "Anise wants her mother here when she delivers. Amaranthine is three days away, and she's getting close to due."

Raviathan nodded in understanding. This was their first child, and delivery was easier with family around.

"You honestly looking for work, Rav?" Curran asked.

"Wouldn't be out here otherwise."

Curran and Giles exchanged looks. Curran said, "Alorn told me what Valendrian said. You ah, certain though?"

Habit kept everyone from saying 'healer' out loud. At Raviathan's silence, the two exchanged another look. Giles scratched the bridge of his nose and fidgeted. "Well, if you're determined, you can stand the stone with us tomorrow." Dock workers lined up in the morning to be chosen for work. 'Stand the stone' as they called it.

"Work's tight," Curran said. "But we'll vouch for you. Teach you a couple things till you know the ropes."

So, he would be a dock worker after all. Raviathan thought back to the childish notions he had before he met Nesiara. He had wanted to be a docker in defiance of shems, his way of spitting at the world. Now he wanted a decent job to help support his family, to protect them from the brutality of the world. Anything to keep Nesiara's face from becoming gaunt like many of the other elves. Dock workers weren't paid much, and work was spotty. When, if, Nesiara ever became pregnant and couldn't work as she had, his contributions would be vital. Dock work wasn't enough, but right now there wasn't much else. "Thanks. I'd appreciate it."

Curran shook his shoulder. "Meet us at the gates when they open. No walking alone. Bring some money for gloves and a hat."

Maker's breath, Raviathan thought. Thankful as he was to the two men who were helping him, doubt crept into Raviathan. They were good men walking with him, but Raviathan couldn't help but feel Nesiara deserved better than a dock rat for a husband.

Raviathan thought of the sound the dog made when his leg was broken. The howl rang clear in his head, almost as if the dog was in front of him. The sound of breaking bone, his howl, and Raviathan felt sick again. Poor dog.

~o~O~o~

Unlike most of the dock workers, and maybe because he was still new, Raviathan liked the heavy scent of the sea. It cleared his lungs, reenergized his brain and muscles. He was coated with salt by the end of the day and in need of a wash, and his hands would crack without the aloe lotion nearly every day now, but still he enjoyed the work. Whatever the weather was, brisk winds blowing across the bay, sun turning from a warming caress to beating on his back, the drama of dark clouds of a coming storm, he loved it. For most of his childhood he worked out on an almost daily basis, exercise that he had missed when Nesiara came. Though the other dockers gave him some dark looks for being too enthusiastic in his work, especially when it came to moving crates, he missed the use of his muscles too much to care. While he liked the work, the shems were as bad as he expected.

"Hey there. Knife ears. How much longer?" The foreman appeared as a looming shadow against the bright glare of the sky.

Curran looked about the ship side from his perch on their shared descent chair. The descent chair was little more than a plank of wood and some ropes, enough that most dockers stayed away if they could help it. One look at Torries the beggar with his crushed legs was enough of a reminder every day the elven dockers left home. Accidents were common, though not that all injuries were all accidents. "'Bout another hour for this section," he called back to the foreman above.

After two steady weeks of unloading, the ship was empty and hauled partially up on the breakers in the shipyard. Cries from the regular mariners and craftsmen, the occasional song, and the pounding of repairs on the ship carried on as the workers readied the vessel before it could be loaded up again. This boat, a carrack called the Ship Kicker, had been besieged by Rivaini pirates on the way from Wycome, a Free Marches city near Antiva. Surviving more by luck, the Ship Kicker had limped into harbor, and her belabored seamen had immediately decided to get drunk for the next weeks as the dockers worked. Currently Raviathan was cleaning barnacles off the ship prow.

"Careful you don't break your scraper," Curran said. "Boss'll take it out of your pay."

Curran was married late, his father dying before a marriage was arranged, so he was nearly a decade older than Raviathan. His sandy brown hair was always mussed, and he had a homey face by elven standards, but there was great patience and kindness there. Raviathan watched him scrape another barnacle with expert efficiency then tried working at a different angle. "Better," Curran said looking over his work. "You're getting the hang of this quick."

"Thanks." Learning knots and loading practices had been far more interesting than Raviathan would have given credit a few weeks ago. The process of unloading cargo, especially balancing crates and using the cranes, was more skilled than he had thought it would be. Since humans were stronger, they often had to do the harder manual labor, something they complained bitterly about while elves often used the cranes. Though shems thought the elves had an easier time, the consequences for mistakes were much higher. Raviathan had already heard furtive stories whispered about men who were beaten, sometimes to death, for damaging cargo. There were few consequences if someone was accidentally hurt, but what constituted an accident was up to the foreman. After all, accidental beatings happened just as often as accidentally dropped cargo.

"Maker's breath, Rav. Of all people, I didn't think you'd go in for this."

"Couldn't find another job." Raviathan instantly regretted not thinking first. "Curran, I didn't mean…"

"Pusha. Ain't nothing," Curran said amicably. "You gots a learned family. Always thought you'd take after Solyn. Ready here. Let's put her down another foot."

Together the two of them carefully lowered the descent chair to clean off the next section. "You know how my father feels about that."

"Aye. Man's lost a lot, so I get it. Meaning no offense here, but you're going to be making your own life at some point."

Raviathan bit his lips. "The thing is, my father's right. People can be unpredictable. I've seen it for myself. Grief turns to anger, and when enough of that happens… Solyn died for it."

"You know for sure it was templars?" Curran asked casting a brief sideways glance at Raviathan.

"Yes."

"Shame for the alienage to lose a healer."

"I'd also be a shame for my family if I disappeared one day."

Curran snorted. "Docks aren't a trade up for safety."

Without warning, a thin trail of liquid fell just behind them startling both men. Realizing what it was, Raviathan jerked away sending the plank tilting forward. Curran cried out in panic as he started to fall between the plank and ship. He twisted desperately to clutch at the ropes, one foot braced against the sharp barnacles on the ship. The plank swung about, crashing against the side of the ship then sliding the other way. Curran was stretched out, his ridged body acting as a fulcrum. The descent chair tipped, and Curran cried out hoarsely, unable to get back to safety. Laughter erupted above them as the two elves scrambled, the wooden pilings below them looking only slightly friendlier than the stone dock.

One of the sailors watching them called to another, "See that? Aim's not worth for shit near land. Can't piss on a knife ear from fifteen feet. You owe me a silver or a whore."

Raviathan had one leg crooked securely over the planking, and a solid grip on the rope. He leaned out and got an arm around Curran's waist then hulled him up.

"Your whore's down there. Take your pick."

After Raviathan helped Curran get back on balance, he glared up at the two sailors who were grinning down at him, their exposed penises in hand.

"I'll take the pretty one." At the first sailor's smirk, heat flushed through Raviathan, his desire to fight making him uncomfortably aware of the blood pumping through his body.

"They all look the same from behind," the third said.

"'ey cock rider," the sailor above them said waving his penis at Raviathan. "Wanna go fer a turn on dis? Promise I von't buck too 'ard."

"Hey," the foreman yelled from further away. "They're working. Leave them alone. You want to screw a knife ear, there's plenty of brothels on land."

The sailors grumbled but moved away diligently enough. Raviathan glared up at the now empty bow. Fires take these shems. The foreman didn't even check to see if we're still alive, Raviathan thought darkly. He glanced over at Curran expecting to commiserate but was shocked to see the elf's hard glare directed at him.

Jaw clenched tight, Curran stared him down. "Rav. I have a wife. A son. The next time it's between my life and a shem pissing on you, let the fucking shem piss on you."

All the anger drained out of Raviathan. He was much more disturbed by Curran's anger than he was by the shems. They finished the work in silence save for Curran's brusque orders. When they finished, Curran went to the foreman for his next assignment, away from Raviathan.

Maker's blood. Out of all the gifts the Maker could bestow, Raviathan reflected that he had an extraordinary ability to piss people off without meaning to. "What's next, boss?"

"Over there," the foreman said indicating the cargo hold. "Help with the crane."

"Yes, ser." Raviathan joined the group of elves.

Five stories high, the crane was a marvel. Two elves ran inside a large wheel to raise and lower equipment and supplies. Three others were responsible for the pulleys that swung cargo to and from the ship. The trickiest part was balancing the platform. Raviathan was surprised he was to work with the complex machine. In the hierarchy of dockers, Raviathan was at the bottom, and crane workers were at the top.

When the lead elf eyed Raviathan, he explained, "Foreman sent me here."

"You've got good balance?" The lead elf's voice was nasal and high.

Is that why he was sent to help with the crane work? Had the foreman been watching? "Yeah."

The lead elf pointed to the loading pit and gave Raviathan a long pole with a hook at one end. A few wooden boards were set near the pit. "Then you'll work guiding. As the equipment is lowered, you hook this around the rope and push or pull so the platform doesn't hit the sides as it goes down through the second and third decks."

"Yes, ser."

The lead elf grabbed Raviathan's arm, forcing him close. "Understand that if that cargo tips and drops, I ain't responsible for any accidents that happen to you. Got it?" Raviathan nodded, and the lead elf released him.

Raviathan watched the crane work in fascination. The elves in the wheel had to be traded out periodically when they became exhausted. When the new platform of wood was centered over the loading pit, Raviathan understood the directions. The crane wasn't completely accurate. He hooked the rope and pulled the cargo so that it could be cleanly lowered into the pit. The lead elf watched and issued orders, some shouted at the crane workers to lower or stop, some to Raviathan to steady his work.

Once the platform was down to the second deck, a few elves scooted a wooden board across the pit so Raviathan could stand on it. At the top, Raviathan could see down three decks of ship. The height was dizzying, but as long as Raviathan concentrated on steadying the platform, he could ignore the flutters in his stomach.

As the hours passed, and load after load was lowered in, Raviathan felt calm, happy even. He was getting the hang of the work, his boss was pleased, and Raviathan felt a sense of community with his fellow workers. Even if he didn't speak to them, they were all part of a greater mechanism. Each person had his job, and together, they were more than the individual elves. There was a place for each of them and a unity of purpose that bonded them. The hands that worked with Raviathan stretched back to the people who built the crane and ship, to the inventors and architects. In his work, Raviathan felt them all as a continuation.

As a healer, he had been a necessity, but the work was lonely. He had to remain separate in order to be objective. When he set a bone, he couldn't allow himself to feel the pain of his patient. When he delivered a child, after the first precious moments of holding a new, vibrant life, he had to give the babe up. Since his childhood, no matter how many people he called kin and friend, an invisible wall remained. Since the spring of his youth, Raviathan had been separated because of his lineage, his talents and training. As a dock worker, he was part of a community with his fellow elves.

The planking Raviathan stood on rattled. Raviathan's stomach somersaulted, and the three floors of decks below him seemed to spiral far away into six. He cried out and pin wheeled for balance.

"Knock that out," the foreman yelled. The two sailors who had been shaking the board laughed.

The lead elf glared at the sailors. "You butt pumping ass pirates! We're trying to work here, and you could have killed him."

The laughter stopped, and both sailors took a keen interest in the lead elf. "What did you call us?"

"And what if the cargo had fallen, huh? Prank your fuck buddy's ass if you have to, but leave us alone."

The two sailors were on the lead elf in an instant. One of them pulled off his knit cap, and yanked the elf's ear hard. He cried out, and Raviathan felt his own ear ache in sympathy. Raviathan used the pole to hook the sailor's leg and pulled. The sailor was half flipped, suspended in the air for a fraction of a second, then landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him. He wheezed in panicked grunts, clutching his chest.

The foreman marched up, his feet hitting the deck like a drum. "What the fuck is this all about?"

"Accident," the lead elf said. "He fell."

The foreman turned to Raviathan. "Slipped, ser."

The two elves stared at the two sailors, Raviathan gripping his pole in mute threat.

"I'll get him down below," the sailor said, and hauled up his mate.

The foreman glared at the two elves. "Watch it," he said quietly and left.

The lead elf winked at Raviathan, which he returned, and the elves went back to work. Raviathan smiled. At least here, he belonged.

When dusk started to settle, Raviathan and the rest of the elves started to make their way home before the gates closed. "Lazy knife ears. Why don't you stay on board to work like us?"

Raviathan muttered to his fellow, "Yeah. A couple of elves stuck on a ship all night with a bunch of horny shems. My idea of adventure." The two dockers near him chuckled. The human dockers, who could do long hour work by living on the vessel, did earn more money. They could occasionally be targets for the sailors, but the danger for them didn't compare to being an elf alone on the boat.

One of the sailors whistled at Raviathan. "Aye-ya, bella," he yelled in a thick Rivaini accent, his hand clutching his crotch. "Foda meu pau. Sugar-me bonita." Laughter erupted on the ship, and the sailors yelled jovially at the one on the bow. Whatever was said, he yelled back at them in good humor then pursed his lips to send kisses at Raviathan.

"I don't want to know," Raviathan said.

"No, you don't," Giles said catching up to him.

"Are all sailors this bad?"

Giles laughed. "Some are worse than others. This batch hasn't had port in a while, so they're randier than usual. The attack scared them, so… yeah. They're taking out their frustrations on everything they can. Also depends where they're from. Rivaini and Antiva are the worst. Tevinters usually hate the idea of screwing their own sex, so they'll be around the brothels as much as they can. Usually. Some funny ducks no matter where you go, so don't let your guard down thinking one's better than the other."

That was good advice in any situation. "How upset is Curran?"

Giles put an arm around Raviathan's shoulders. "He'll be fine. Give him a day and apologize."

Raviathan thought about his pay. Curran and Giles were the sole supporters for their families. Every coin they made went into food, rent, and clothes. With his pay, Raviathan was still trying to come up with a wedding gift. He felt spoiled walking next to Giles who could waste no money on that kind of luxury. But when Raviathan thought of Nesiara, he wondered if he would ever be able to honor her as she did him. What to get her?