Promises: Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

There had been slaves from all nations in Danarius' household, not a few of which stubbornly clung to a sense of national pride long after any such feeling should have been extinguished. When an Orlesian slave would proudly proclaim that Val Royeaux was the most beautiful city in the world, an Antivan slave would inevitably proclaim that Antiva City was better because it was the most romantic.

As they looked down upon the capital from atop the nearest mount, Fenris was inclined to agree with that assessment. Long, graceful spires reached up to the sky, towering over a series of tapering bridges and canals while the sea was a sparkling blue gem hovering just off the horizon.

"Oh!" Hawke gasped. "It's beautiful," she said, giving voice to Fenris' thoughts.

"Yes, Antiva City is very much like a painted whore. Beautiful when looked at from afar and utterly charming after you've had a couple pints or more of ale, but under morning's harsh light, it is horrifying to discover how truly ugly and diseased-ridden she is." Bitterness bubbled under the assassin's words, causing both Fenris and Hawke to turn their heads to examine their companion. Zevran's lips were twisted into a frown, rather than its usual smile, and his features had taken on a hardness they hadn't seen before.

"I thought Antiva City was your home," Hawke put in hesitantly.

"It is when I am there. That doesn't mean I have to like it," Zevran said with a shrug. "Have a care as we travel the city, my friends. Death is cheap here, and life is even cheaper." With those rather ominous words, the blond elf headed down the final hill.

Zevran led them through the winding estates that surrounded Antiva City. As they passed by yet another palatial residence, Hawke asked, "Is it safe to live outside the city walls?"

"It's as safe here as it is anywhere," Zevran replied. "There really isn't any wildlife that would threaten anyone near here. The only true threats are assassins."

"Like yourself," Fenris noted.

Zevran nodded his head. "Indeed. That is one of the reasons why those who can afford so build their homes outside the city so they can arrange for all sorts of elaborate traps to discourage an assassin. Not that that sort of thing works. There is more than one way to break into a guarded estate."

"Oh? It sounds like you have some experience there," Hawke said.

"I wouldn't be much of an assassin if I didn't. Myself, I prefer to receive an invitation rather than resort to skulking across a roof during the cold of night. Preferably from my target as that makes things even easier."

Hawke tilted her head to one side as she processed what Zevran said. "Someone who knows assassins are after them would invite a strange elf into their home? That doesn't make much sense."

"Ah! You must not have much experience dealing with nobles, little one. Nobles don't have much use for common sense. It's too common for them."

Hawke looked askance at that assertion, and Fenris shared her doubt. "Um…I'll take your word for it. But seeing how the estates don't provide much in the way of an effective defense against assassins, there surely must be more reasons to live out here rather than in the city."

"Yes, of course. There's more room outside the city walls. You've been in Denerim, yes?" At Hawke's nod, the assassin continued. "The back alleys of Antiva City are just as crowded and cramped, if not more so. Besides that, there is the smell."

"The smell?" Fenris and Hawke asked in unison.

"Yes. All cities have their own peculiar smell. Denerim, for example, is renowned for smelling of mud. In Val Royeaux, one is overwhelmed by the clashing perfumes the nobles of that city prefer. The port cities of Antiva are no different, and their odor is truly unique. None is quite as unique as the smell of Antiva City. It is hard to describe. You will just have to experience it."

Fenris was dismayed to discover what Zevran had meant as soon as the trio entered the city gates and stepped into the city proper. The canals that acted as the major thoroughfares in lieu of streets were rather too convenient for the city's residents to ignore. The resulting stench was overwhelming to his sensitive nose, and it sent him gagging. Even the sewers that he and Hawke had fled into in the hopes of avoiding templars smelled better. "Dare I hope that our destination isn't too far from here?" asked Fenris.

"The old friend that I want to meet is most likely at the docks," was the assassin's reply.

"Wouldn't that be clear across town?" asked Hawke. She too looked a little wan, and she wobbled on her feet. Fenris remembered how much his mageling had complained about the sewers; surely she must be suffering almost as much as he was currently.

"It is indeed." Zevran favored his traveling companions with a pitying glance. "Don't worry. With time, you'll start to ignore it. Try to stay away from the water's edge for now. That should help a little."

"Thanks for the advice. It would have never occurred to me otherwise," Hawke mumbled sarcastically. If she felt well enough to launch her usual snarky replies, then she couldn't be that bad off, Fenris decided.

"Ha! You tempt me to have us travel strictly by gondola rather than keeping to the streets and footpaths when possible, little one."

Hawke pulled a face. "Please don't. I might get sick. Repeatedly. And if I do, I'll make sure it's on you."

"Now that is indeed a fearsome threat, little one. Very well then. I'll do as you asked but only because I like you," the assassin said grandly.

Both Fenris and Hawke kept as far away from the water as possible as Zevran took up the lead once more. Antiva City was like a maze, but the assassin had long ago memorized its twists and turns. The city's layout made little sense, and Fenris would have been hard pressed to find his way out again, especially with the pounding headache that had taken up residence in his skull because of the city's unique smells. One glance at his mageling told him that she was in a similar state if the way she kept rubbing her temples was anything to go by.

When Fenris asked Zevran if he was truly choosing the straightest and quickest route, however, the assassin's testy reply was that they were taking the safest route. "It would be quicker to go through the chantry's district," he informed them, "but templars inevitably lurk there. So no this isn't the most direct route but I think it is best. It will cost us in time, but I think the little one will agree with me that it is well worth it."

Fenris was gratified to hear that the assassin was taking Hawke's special circumstances into consideration. It was more than he ever expected from the other elf. But then he supposed he shouldn't be too surprised for it seemed as though the assassin was truly fond of Hawke. Fenris knew that such fondness wouldn't keep Zevran from hunting down Hawke if the Crows demanded it, but at least it led the other elf to think of the mageling's comfort.

They wound up having to travel by gondola twice, the first time to avoid the crowded marketplace and the second time to cross into the dock district. Thankfully by the time they reached the docks, Zevran's prediction that they would eventually become acclimated to the smell proved to be accurate. While it was still unpleasant, Fenris no longer was tempted to hack off his nose.

"We're almost there," Zevran told them as they stepped off of the gondola. "My friend tends to favor this one bar whenever she's in town. I've tried to convince her that there are taverns with better ale but she insists that this one offers the best choice for the money along with food that is occasionally edible." The elf rolled his eyes. "She can be stubborn like that. Reminds me of you two, actually."

The assassin entered the tavern first, followed by Hawke and then Fenris. As Fenris' eyes adjusted to the dim lighting inside, he was struck with a sense of déjà vu. This all felt remarkably similar to the last contact Zevran had tried to charm into divulging useful information. Remembering how well that went down, Fenris instinctively stepped closer to his mageling even as she did the same.

"There she is." Zevran made a beeline to the bar where a dusky woman sat alone with a pair of empty tankards before her as she signaled the bartender to refill them both. A pair of wicked looking daggers rested upon her back, and the woman's choice of clothing was most…unusual.

"Is it me or is she not wearing any pants?" Hawke mumbled to Fenris.

"No. Your keen power of observation has not failed you, Hawke. The assassin's friend is indeed not wearing any pants," Fenris agreed dryly, earning him a sharp elbow from Hawke. Inwardly he wondered just what sort of establishment this was. The two of them cautiously followed Zevran as he approached his contact.

"Isabela!" Zevran exclaimed upon reaching the bar. "It has been entirely too long since I last set eyes on your lovely figure, my dear."

The woman sighed once before turning to face the assassin, tankard in hand. "Zevran," she said lifting her cup up in greeting before taking a drink. "Of course it's you. Somehow I knew you would show up after I made port."

"Is that any way to greet an old friend? You hardly seem to be happy to see me." The assassin pouted as he took a seat next to the woman.

"That's mine," Isabela said sharply as Zevran reached for her other tankard. "Go get your own."

"But you have two, lovely Isabela. Surely you can share one with me."

"No, love, I can't. Not when I have to deal with your bullshit this early in the evening." Isabela expertly swiped her second mug away from the elf, leaving Zevran with no recourse but to order his own. The elven assassin did so promptly.

"So Isabela, what brings you to town?" he asked, relaxing back in his seat as the bartender delivered his order.

"Nothing of consequence," was the woman's reply. "Though I've heard a most interesting rumor about you. Tell me, is it true that you have taken leave of your senses?"

"That depends on what you mean—"

Isabela groaned and let her head fall against the bar. "Andraste's ass. It is true. You can never give a straight answer when someone catches you doing something foolish. You have taken on that blighted job, haven't you? And that's why you're here to see if you can drag me into it. Well, my answer is no."

"But I haven't even asked you anything yet."

Isabela gave the assassin a pointed glare. "You don't have to. You're predictable, Zev. You're here to either ask for any information I might have or for me to help you more directly or most likely both. It doesn't really matter as my answer is no. Just because you've decided to die young doesn't mean that I have to go down in a similar blaze of glory."

"Who said anything about dying? Me, I thought I would track Brax down, defeat him with ease and return the recruits to the Crows, and be richly rewarded for my troubles. I assure you, dearest Isabela, dying has no part in my plans."

"That would lead me to conclude that your plans are shit."

"Do you truly have so little faith in me?"

The woman snorted. "It would be more accurate to say I've no faith in whatever mad scheme you've dreamt up now. I can tell you haven't thought things through when you're blindly buttering me up like there's no tomorrow." She finished her first tankard and moved on to her second. "I'm sorry, Zevran. I wish you the best of luck and all for I'd rather not see you dead, but I've got my own skin to think of. Just because you've lost it and decided to jump off of a cliff, doesn't mean that I have to do the same." She uttered a soft sigh. "You know, you were the last person I'd ever suspect of developing a death wish."

"Like I said before, when I took this job I had no great expectations of dying. It would be difficult, yes, but I've taken on difficult jobs before. But then again I had thought I could count on people I know to at least pass along what tidbits they've heard." There was that bitter quality to Zevran's voice yet again, the one that came out to play whenever he was disappointed by something. "Evidently I do not know you half as well as I thought," he finished with a frown.

"Oh Zev. You are in a bad state, aren't you?" Isabela propped her elbows against the top of the bar and gazed sadly at the assassin. She shook her head. "Fine. I shouldn't be even telling you this much, but because it's you, I will. You know that slavers regularly hire raiders and their ships to transport their cargo, right?"

Zevran nodded his head eagerly. "Yes, I do. I take it there are a lot of those sorts of jobs around right now."

"Care to take a guess about how many?" Isabela asked. She took a swig of ale before holding up a clenched fist. "That's how many."

The assassin wrinkled his brow as he tried to work out the implications of Isabela's statement. "What? I don't know what you mean to say here."

Isabela rolled her eyes. "It means that slavers are not currently hiring anyone to ferry their cargo across the sea. Usually I hear of all sorts of offers to do so and many captains are eager to offer their ships as the slavers always pay good coin, but since making port, I've heard nothing about such things."

"I see. You've heard nothing." Zevran's face darkened, and it was apparent the elf was remembering the last time he heard those words. "It's funny how often I get that response these days."

Fenris bit back the urge to hit the other elf on top of his head for being so obtuse. His friend was trying to help him, but the silly assassin couldn't put two and two together. Fenris decided to connect the dots for the other elf. "What she means to say," said Fenris, keeping his voice low, "is that if there are no jobs for raiders to ferry slaves by sea, then obviously the slavers must be intending to transport their cargo by land."

Isabela's eyes flickered over to Fenris. A slow grin crossed her face, and she looked him at, first up, then down and then up again. "That's exactly my point," she agreed with a smile. "Zevran, you didn't tell me that you were traveling with such a clever and handsome elf," she scolded the assassin, never taking her eyes off of Fenris.

Fenris was unnerved by the weight of the woman's regard. He was grateful when Hawke stepped forward, allowing him the chance to duck behind her. He wasn't hiding, he told himself as he lowered his head, just trying to divert the woman's attention on to something else, anything else.

It worked. Isabela let out a soft gasp as Hawke came into her field of view. "And aren't you just precious?" she exclaimed. The raider jumped out of her seat and slinked forward, her hips swaying with each step. Stopping before Hawke, she reached out a hand to cup Hawke's cheek. "You are truly the most adorable thing I've run across in awhile, kitten. Tell me, Zev, how do you find them?" Isabela asked lightheartedly as she continued to stare at his mageling.

Fenris found that he didn't appreciate the raider focusing her attention on Hawke either. With a barely disguised growl, he grasped Hawke's shoulder and harshly yanked her away from the other woman. Isabela's eyes widened, and her mouth formed a small 'o'.

Then she started laughing. "So that's how it is?" Isabela got out amidst hearty gales of laughter. "Oh poor, poor Zev. I feel for you, I really do. Why didn't you just say something? I thought you were being awfully moody, and now I know why. How long has it been?"

"I'm not going to answer that," said the assassin.

Isabela's eyebrows shot up. "That long, huh?" She tossed a smile at Fenris and Hawke. "One of you really should have taken pity on Zev. It must have been a real blow to his self-esteem for him to realize that he isn't half as irresistible as he thinks he is."

"I am still here, you know, Isabela," Zevran said testily, tapping one foot.

"Yes, and that's why you can't be too upset. At least I'm not talking about you behind your back."

"Considering the topic of conversation, I think I almost prefer that you would." Then the elven assassin waggled his eyebrows suggestively at the pirate. "Unless of course you intend to help me with my little problem."

Fenris snorted at Zevran's choice of words while Hawke let out a soft chuckle. Isabela settled for rolling her eyes. "Honestly, Zev, when you put it like that, it's hardly a tempting proposition."

Surprisingly a blush covered Zevran's cheeks. "I didn't mean it like that!" he protested, his cheeks a bright red. "I am…you can hardly say…it's not little!" he finally sputtered out, glaring at all three of his companions in turn. "And I am willing to prove it to any one of you," he added for emphasis.

"You know, I think that this is the first time I've ever seen you flustered. It must have been too long indeed." Isabela shrugged her shoulders. "Well if you like, I'm willing to help you out with your…frustration. You know, do my good deed for the year and all." She glanced back at the other two. "And if either of you wish to join us…."

Zevran scoffed openly. "I've been making the same offer for weeks, Isabela, and have been getting no where. I doubt you'll have any more luck."

"It was worth a try." She lifted her head in challenge at the assassin. "So are we going to do this? I have a room up back."

"And what are we supposed to do, just wait here?" asked Hawke, speaking for the first time since they entered the tavern.

"Why yes, kitten, unless you've decided to join us. Don't worry. I can tell from Zevran's level of frustration that it won't take all that long." She waved a hand in good bye and then sauntered off towards the stairs.

"Oh ho! Now there's a challenge I like. You'll find me able to rise up to the occasion. Repeatedly." Zevran tossed his coin pouch at Fenris. "Here this is safer with you than with me. Isabela is known for her sticky fingers. The two of you can have a couple drinks while you wait. Or get a room of your own, I don't care." He bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time, with the worry erased from his shoulders as he caught up to the pirate. He slung a carefree arm around Isabela's waist, and the two of them disappeared into the depths of the tavern.

Author's note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed this fic! ;D