"You're Hawke, right?"

Garrett and I turned to see what poor wretch was coming to labor him with pleas of assistance this time. Such was the trouble with being famous, and lately it seemed like the entire city was trying to balance itself on his shoulders in a teetering tower with him as the only support beam.

The latest addition to Garrett's burden was a young lady, and she took a step back almost as soon as our gazes were on her. She was skittish, but then, so many are these days.

Her dark hair fell over her shoulder in a loose braid, and she wore the Chantry's robes, though her frame was far slighter than most of the sisters I'd seen. Perhaps she had elf blood in her? Not that that really shows, but... something had made her so slight.

I hadn't thought that they let half breeds into the Chantry, but then, I've never cared to get too involved in human religion.

Hawke held his arms out, palms up as that crooked grin spread across his face, sparking mischief in his eyes. "Assuming I don't owe you money, you found me."

She picked at her sleeve, his lame joke doing little to alleviate her unease. Shifting uncomfortably as she looked him over, like she expected him to shoulder her and make off into the sunset, she nodded. I smiled to myself as I imagined that. Though, if he ever actually did do something along those lines, it'd likely be with Anders, not any strange dame.

Ancestors, I'd pay to see that…

"I…" She fidgeted and glanced around, and I couldn't help but wonder what it was that she had to tell us that was so important that she expected the walls themselves to grow ears. She took a tentative step forward. "You go after slavers on occasion, right?"

Garrett's eyebrows shot up, and he crossed his arms, bringing one had up to tap a finger against his bearded chin. "I might, 'on occasion'."

"Look," her mouth twisted into a frown. Whatever it was, I wished she'd just spit it out. We had other things to do. When she did start talking, it was faster than Merrill's babbles. "I know there are a lot of slavers out there and that I can't expect you to go out of your way, but…if you take out some and happen across a really odd hand mirror, it's…mine." She shifted a step closer to us. "It's set in metal, and the mirror is black, but it reflects really well. Better than most mirrors. It's really light too, and fits in your palm. And square."

"And here I thought sisters left their vanity at the Chantry door," I cracked.

If she ever had any humor, that was what she'd left on the stoop. "If you don't find it, fine, but if you do…I can pay you. It's not much but…yeah."

This was too simple a task. She was hiding something, and Garrett had picked up on it, too.

"There's not going to be some demon jumping at me out of this mirror, is there?"

"No." She said it firmly, though her expression said that she might want to tell us a detail or two more. However, even as she opened her mouth, another woman's voice called out through the market.

"Sister Kaitlyn!"

She flinched at the name and then took a few steps away from us, like being seen near us would be some great travesty. "You can find me at the Chantry, if you find it." She didn't even wait to hear if Garrett would actually take the job. Instead, she turned on her toes and hurried toward the voice of an older sister as she called her name again. She reached the old bat about the time that the woman saw her, and her shoulders slumped a little as the woman chastised her for running off. We both pretended we weren't looking their way as the older woman's eyes scanned the crowd, suspicious. Her gaze lingered on us for a moment, but then she merely ushered Sister Kaitlyn along, without a second glance back.

"Well, I think I've officially taken a request from every person in the city," Garrett said with an offhanded shrug as we turned, on our way to meet with Hubert about the mine.

"I'm not so sure. I don't think we've talked to that guy yet." I pointed to a random stranger in the crowd.

Garrett laughed. "Then let's make haste before he notices me and decides I'd be perfect to help him find an ancient amulet of some sort."

~"~

"And what is this…?"

"Well I'll be damned," I commented as I watched Isabela's hand slide out of the dead man's pocket. She leaned toward the odd mirror clasped lightly in her fingers, tilting her head. Garrett hopped over another corpse and caught Isabela's hand before she could pocket the item for herself. He frowned when he realized the hand he was holding in the air was empty, and she waved the little trinket in the other.

"Here I thought we were helping Fenris hunt slavers, and you were after something else?"

"I've been keeping an eye out for it, for someone."

Fenris kept his distance, watching the way the light reflected off its surface. It was too clean. The edges were too perfect. I wasn't sure half the swords people carried were so smooth. "Something Anders needs to take down the Circle?" Though he'd tried to play it off as a joke, he wasn't able to keep the venom from lacing his words.

Garrett frowned, holding one hand out palm up to Isabela. "It's a mirror."

"I'd be surprised if that's all it is," Fenris muttered, finally shouldering his blade and walking toward the rest of us. "It looks magical. We should leave it here."

Already bored with the new toy that didn't seem to actually do anything, Isabela dropped the item into Garrett's waiting palm. He weighed it in his hand a moment and then wrapped a bit of loose cloth around it and dropped it into his bags. "If it's magical, we'll get some answers when we give it to the sister who wants it."

Fenris' lips twisted into a grimace of a frown, and he stalked past the rest of us toward the next room. "Do want you want, but we need to get to Hadriana before she flees."

~"~

Merrill peered down at the little square, head tilting one way and then the other. "I don't sense anything." She shrugged and handed it back to Garrett. "Perhaps the sister was telling the truth, and it is just a mirror?"

He turned it over slowly, running his thumb along its thin edge. "You're sure?"

She leaned against the table, cupping her chin with her hands as she shrugged again. "Not everyone's a lying monster, you know."

"She was definitely hiding something," I interjected, frowning. Garrett nodded in agreement. "There's more to this than meets the eye."

"So it's bloody stolen," Isabela sighed dramatically as she dropped into her seat.

She slid an ale toward Merrill, and the elf sat up straighter, brow scrunching together. "This isn't as strong as last time, is it?"

"Oh stop fretting, you light weight," Isabela nudged her playfully before motioning toward the mirror with her chin. "I bet she stole it from a magister and wants to sell it back to him, or something." When Fenris let out a low grunt of skepticism, she rolled her eyes. "If it's stolen, it would make sense that she wouldn't want the other sisters to know about it."

Fenris' gaze darkened to a full blown glower directed at his drink, and I knew that Anders had come back before he even sat down. As the mage slid Garrett a drink and took his seat at the table, he barely glanced at the object in Garrett's hand. It definitely wasn't magical, then. There was no way both our mages would leave it alone if it was.

I stared at the trinket, bile curling in me as I considered our options. I was loathe to even point it out. "We could ask Sebastian if he knows anything."

The table let out a collective groan. Well, all save Fenris. The fact that that broody elf could like anyone always left me floored. As if on cue, Fenris drummed his spiky finger tips against the hard wood of the table, shifting around in his chair. "Is someone going to deal or not?"

~"~

"Sister Kaitlyn…?" Sebastian looked confused for a moment before a slow look of recognition pushed his eyebrows up toward his hairline. "Ah, yes. I know who you're talking about. She's not…technically a sister. She hasn't taken any vows."

"Ah, a freeloader of the Chantry, then," Garrett smirked.

"More like a charge of the Chantry." Our friendly brother leaned against the wall, frowning. "She's…odd." Our expressions must have saved us from having to goad him on, because he coughed into his hand and then glanced around, making sure she wasn't nearby to hear that she was the topic of gossip for the day. "She was brought to us a few months ago. Some guards going after slavers found her with a few other slaves—corpses of slaves—and they brought her here. We thought she might be elf blooded, but she insists she's fully human. I doubt the slavers believed her anymore than most of the sisters here."

"So a lack of trust breeds even less?"

Sebastian found a sudden, great interest in the floor tiles. "Even before she woke up, it was…clear what the men had done to her."

I frowned in time with Garrett. "Is that why she seems so nervous?"

"Yes and no. She's doing better now, but she was positively paranoid when she first came to. She would shriek if anyone put a hand on her. She kept going on about magic and…nonsense really. Further, the trauma's left her with amnesia." He sighed. "I suppose it's a blessing, but she doesn't even remember her original rantings."

I narrowed my eyes. "You sure about that?"

"I don't see why she'd hide it…" Sebastian paused, thinking it over. "I suppose if she was under the influence of a blood mage, she might be afraid to tell anyone. Regardless, we've been watching her, and we don't think there's a demon in her. There were a few templars here to guard her for a while but they dismissed the idea and just told us to come get them if she started acting strange."

"Stranger, you mean," I muttered.

Garrett tried to keep up a casual conversation with Sebastian, but truth be told, I doubt the brother sees us as anything more than swords for hire. We may have done him a service before, but he wasn't willing to get too involved in our endeavors.

That worked well enough for me. The man was about as interesting as a plank of wood.

After prodding the brother to go reclaim his stolen throne, Garrett and I headed up to where he'd said we would find Sister Kaitlyn, and he stalked off to go polish his armor. Presumably.

She was making one of the beds, though as she shook up the sheet, letting the cloth billow through the air, she saw us coming. She released her grip on the fabric, and its momentum carried it to the far side of the bed, crumpling on the floor.

Sister Kaitlyn didn't notice.

"You're here… I didn't really think you'd…" her brow knitted together. "Did you find it?"

Garrett slipped the mirror from his pocket and made a flourished show of unwrapping the cloth around it. He held up the little square, and for the first time, something other than nervous fear settled over her features.

I don't know what sarcastic comment or joke had been on the tip of Garrett's tongue, but the second he saw that look, he just held it out to her. Her hand shook as she took it from him, her fingers tracing the edges of the mirror with a familiarity almost forgotten. For a moment, our world was still as she stared into her own reflection.

Then, with a hiccupped sob, she crumpled to the ground, much as that sheet had. She held the mirror to her chest with both hands, her whole body shaking as she burst into tears.

The other sisters were there in a second, angrily shooing us away while a few hurriedly led Sister Kaitlyn into a back room. Even as they fussed over her, I saw her slide the mirror into her pocket. Her hand was shaking so badly that she nearly let the damned trinket fall to the floor, but she managed to catch it, and it disappeared into the folds of her robes.

It wasn't until the old ladies had all but dragged us by our ears out the front doors that we realized that we'd never gotten a chance to ask any of our questions, let alone get paid.

~"~

One of the sisters stood in front of us, all but daring us not to hear her out. Garrett crossed his arms and tried to mimic her stern fortitude. It was funny how the warrior could look like the less of the two to some gnarled old lady who couldn't even stand upright anymore.

"You've assisted Sister Kaitlyn before." It was an accusation rather than a question.

I frowned. "Look, I know she was upset, but we didn't do—"

"She said it was a misunderstanding," the woman dismissed. "The point is you helped her. She trusts you, for whatever reason." Before either of us could comment that trust seemed like a strong word, the woman continued. "She's gone missing, and the way she is…I can't ask just anyone to find her. She trusts you. Find her and bring her back safely, and I'll throw some coin your way, if that's the incentive you need."

"That's what we were promised last time," I muttered, though, to my surprise, Garrett simply nodded, giving the sister a half bow.

"No one's run screaming from me so far today, and we know that can't be had." The sister gave him a reprimanding glare and then picked up her skirts, disappearing into the crowd with a dignity so few carry these days.

As soon as she was out of earshot, I arched my eyebrows, inspecting Garrett. "Here I thought you had a thing for your mage."

"I do and always will." He laughed. "But this sister… She sent me a letter about a day after that…incident," Garrett frowned and then shrugged. "It had an apology and a sovereign. I wish more of my encounters ended that way."

"Don't we all." I let my gaze sweep the market place. "Well, then. If I was a skittish little thing who wanted to run away, where would I go…?"

"Not here."

"Wanna bet that sovereign she headed out of the city to get away from the bustle?"

Garrett's shoulders slumped. "Let's find someone else willing to waste a perfectly lovely day out on the Wounded Coast."

"And hope she went there and not to the mountain."

~"~

She sat near the edge of one of the many overlooks onto the ocean, her back to the road and her shoulders hunched forward. There was a glow coming from something in her hands, and I heard Fenris let out a low hiss. Of course his mind would jump to magic.

I, on the other hand, wasn't so sure. The look on her face when we'd given that mirror to her…whatever she was hiding, I don't think it was as ominous as we'd originally assumed. I mean, we'd established that she didn't have magic, and there was no way so slight a frame could have much power behind it. If anything, she'd make a good thief, but I doubted she'd manage to pull that off, the way she'd nearly dropped something so precious right after she'd gotten it.

Garrett took a few steps toward her, his pace slow. "Sister Kaitlyn?"

At his voice, she wilted a little. Even so, she didn't turn around. "You can tell the sisters that I'll come back in a little while."

"As much as I love couriering messages," Garrett started, picking up his pace to stop at her side, "I think they'd prefer to hear it from—"

His voice cut off so abruptly as his brow shot up, and he stood there, frozen. A small square of light reflected in his eyes, and suddenly I found myself leaning toward Fenris' line of thought.

I'd never found myself changing my mind so quickly on anything in my life. Finally, as I wavered between what to believe, I walked over to them to see just what was so enrapturing, if only to settle things once and for all. When I could peer over her other shoulder, I stopped as well.

She was holding that mirror. Only instead of that eerie black reflecting up at us, it was full of light, and there was an image there. It was Sister Kaitlyn with a young man and woman, all three of their faces close together, and blocking out most of their surroundings. Their clothes looked odd though, and I could barely make out what looked like writing of some kind on the man's shirt-what little I could see of the shirt, anyway. The smiles on their face reminded me of how our lot could be when we got into a good game of Wicked Grace.

In one corner, I could see a bit of a building behind them, and it looked like no architecture I'd ever seen. There wasn't really enough to see to compare it to anything, though. I looked back at the three smiling faces.

"This is what you couldn't tell us," Garrett murmured in a moment of uncharacteristic seriousness.

She nodded a little. "It's not magic, but I don't know how to explain what it is." An odd square symbol flickered across the screen, with a line running diagonally through it. Her shoulders quaked. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. She didn't address it, though. "They almost had me believing…that I really was crazy. But this…this proves it."

"Proves what?" Fenris was standing there, too. Though his hand was on the hilt of his sword, he seemed half awed and half wary of whatever this painting was.

The symbol flashed again.

"That I was right." When Fenris prodded as to what she meant, still skeptical, she shrugged. "Another life. Another world."

"Who are they?" Garrett asked.

"My brother and my best friend," Sister Kaitlyn murmured, her fingers tightening around the mirror. "Jake…he fought the slavers when they tried to take us. He didn't stand a chance, even if it'd been one on one. And Amanda…I don't know what happened to her. Maybe they took her, maybe she got away and something else got her. Maybe she made it home."

"And just where is 'home'?" Fenris murmured.

"That is the big question, isn't it?"

This time, when the symbol appeared, it stayed, a translucent distraction on top of the faces, obscuring some of their features. The image was dimmer than when we'd first come up. Even as I thought to ask what that meant, the image cut off in time with a soft noise, and the mirror was black again. It was jarring to see the three of us peering down at her, our reflections staring back at us so perfectly.

"And it's gone." She leaned forward, her head touching her knees as she held the mirror to her chest. I thought she might cry again, but instead she merely took a few ragged breaths. She stood up and turned to us. "I guess we shouldn't keep the sisters waiting." Thinking back to that image, it was hard to believe that the melancholy creature before us was the same person.

Another life, indeed.