Promises: Chapter Eleven

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine but Bioware's.

Fenris woke up the next morning to the sound of someone pounding on the door. He winced as he righted himself. It was far too early to be up after a night like they had. "I'm coming," he growled. The pounding on the door blessedly stopped, but he found that his head still throbbed with pain.

He threw the door open and frowned. There before him stood the blighted assassin, who was grinning like a fool. "Go away," he growled. He tried to shut the door in the other elf's face, but the assassin was too quick and managed to worm his way in.

"Sorry, my friend, no can do. Isabela has already left, and I have nothing left to do but bug the two of you," was Zevran's reply. The assassin was entirely too cheerful for this time of day. He casually strolled over to the bed and took a seat, avoiding the lump in the middle that was Hawke. "And can I say that I am mildly disappointed how I can't leave the two of you alone together? I need to introduce you both to the concept of lying low. Starting an impromptu drinking contest and later getting into a brawl is not what you want to do if you're trying to avoid attracting attention."

Fenris' fist ached to plant itself squarely in Zevran's mouth. He refrained only because he didn't feel up to moving that quickly at the moment. Fenris closed the door and shuffled over where he could continue to glare at the other elf while leaning against the wall for support.

Meanwhile the assassin's babbling had woken up the mageling for she sat up with a groan. "Shut up, Zev," she told him. Her eyes were half shut, and she rubbed her head gingerly at the temples. Fenris imagined that her agony must equal his own given that she had never drunk as much as she did last night.

"You're looking lovely today too, little one." The assassin continued to prove that he liked to play with fire. He was fortunate that Hawke was in no condition to launch a fireball at him much less aim one properly. "In addition to the disappointment I feel, I must confess I'm a bit put out as well. Why can't the two of you be as much fun as you were last night when you're around me?" he asked.

"Maybe that's because you're no fun," Hawke grumbled. She settled back down in bed. "Can you go away now so I can die in peace?"

"Like I told your grumpy friend, I can't do that. We have much to do, or have you forgotten that I have a job you're supposed to be helping me with?" The assassin looked Hawke over with a careful eye. "It appears you are hung over, little one. Can't you cure yourself of that?"

"No. Too risky. Might scramble my brains trying to work a healing spell on my head right now," Hawke explained.

"That is too bad. That would be a useful skill. I guess I will have to try to cure the two of you the old fashioned way."

"Would that involve your being quiet? Because if so, I'm all for that," said Hawke.

"I'll second that," Fenris agreed.

Zevran chuckled at the two of them. "If only things were that easy. Alas there is only one way I know of to treat a hangover and I doubt either of you will like it."

"Considering that I don't like you all that much at the moment, that would be no surprise," Hawke grumbled. Fenris started to nod his head to agree with her but stopped. It hurt too much to nod. "So go on. What is your folk cure?"

"Did I call it a cure? My apologies, I must have misspoken. The best way to treat a hangover is to savor the pain, to relish it like a fine wine. That way you know what you're getting yourself into the next time you feel like drinking yourself under the table."

"I always suspected you were a closet sadist," Fenris mumbled. The other elf only beamed at him and acted as though the comment was meant as a compliment. Fenris silently swore that if the other elf ever suffered a hangover around him, then he would try his hardest to put on the loudest, more cheerfully annoying persona possible just to get back at the fool. And if he couldn't manage that—because it was after all contrary to his nature—then he would convince Hawke to do that for him.

Neither Fenris nor Hawke had much energy to resist the assassin's urgings for them to get up. They collected their packs, and the assassin regained possession over the coin purse he had entrusted to Fenris the night before. Then Zevran herded the two of them back to the dining room, where he led them to a table in the deepest recesses of the room. It was blessedly dark around the table, and if Fenris closed his eyes, he found that his head didn't hurt quite so much.

He opened his eyes in alarm when he heard the assassin ordering them water along with their breakfast. "Is it safe to drink the water here?" he asked bluntly.

"While some may advocate more of what you had last night as a cure, I do not. Experience has taught me water is the best thing to drink," Zevran claimed. "And as for it being safe, people in the city know to put out barrels to collect rain water for drinking. You'd have to desperate to try anything else. Not that there aren't those who try but they generally do not last long here," he finished a touch darkly.

Surprisingly enough, Fenris started to feel more like himself after a large breakfast with copious helpings of water. What helped even more was that the mageling recovered enough that she was able to work sufficient healing magic on both of them so that the pounding in Fenris' head settled into a dull roar. Zevran kept an eye out to make sure it was safe while Hawke was casting. It was only after that Zevran began to talk—and by talk, Fenris meant complain—in earnest about how little they had learned from Isabela.

"At least last night wasn't a complete loss," he told them with a sigh. "It was good being with Isabela again, but I wish she could have told me more than just no ships are being hired to transport slaves by sea. What am I supposed to make of such information?"

"Hmm…it probably means the Imperium's war with the Qunari has heated up again. If Qunari dreadnaughts are patrolling the slavers' usual sea passages, then that would explain why there aren't the usual jobs for raiders and their ships," Fenris pointed out.

Zevran gave him a look. "That's nice," he said. "Does anyone have anything useful to contribute to this conversation?"

"Hey! I thought Fenris' comment was very insightful," Hawke protested.

"Of course you would."

Hawke ignored the interruption. "Besides I thought you'd be grateful to hear Isabela's news. It means your recruits are most likely still in the country rather than locked up in a ship's hold halfway to Tevinter by now. What would you have done then?"

That was a very good point Hawke brought up. Fenris hadn't thought of it before. He flicked his gaze over to the assassin, curious about what the other elf would say to explain his behavior.

"Eh that much is true. But when I said this job of mine has two parts—"

"You lied?" Hawke asked softly. Her eyes were downcast, and Fenris realized that she was disappointed in the other elf.

"I didn't lie so much as not tell you the entire truth," Zevran said quickly. "There are two parts to the job. Killing Brax is mandatory. The Crows want to make an example of him. Rescuing the recruits, on the other hand, is optional. The Crows would prefer to have them returned and there is a nice bonus for me if I manage to do it, but they would not have me eliminated from the order if I failed in the endeavor."

"I see," Hawke said.

"Not that that matters much now as I am at a dead end once more…though perhaps I should think of a better phrase to use. Dead sounds so final. I had hoped that if I found the recruits, I would find Brax or at least information leading to the man, but all my efforts have left me empty handed." The assassin spread out his hands before him to emphasize his words. "If either of you have any bright ideas, now would be the time to share them."

"In most countries, slave hunters have hideouts up and down the coast and around major cities where they can stash their captives. We should check those out," Fenris said.

"And do you know where these hideouts are?" Zevran asked. Fenris was forced to admit that he didn't. "I didn't think so. They wouldn't be very good hideouts if they were easy to find."

"You really haven't had much luck, have you?" Hawke noted.

"No, I haven't. But I'm the sort who likes to look on the bright side. If I haven't had any luck so far, all that means is that things are bound to start looking up for me sooner rather than later."

"Your logic fails to impress me," Hawke murmured. "If I were you, I wouldn't wait for my luck to change. I'd make my own luck. I'd ask around, find someone who recently lost someone to slave hunters, and go from there." A frown marred her features. "Although in a city as big as this, I wouldn't know where to start asking."

Fenris and Zevran exchanged a glance. "Slave hunters generally target the poorest of the poor," Fenris stated.

"Indeed. It is no different in Antiva. The poor and the unfortunate make the easiest targets. And as for the easiest targets of all…well it looks like we'll be paying a visit to the alienage. Wonderful. No trip to Antiva City would be complete without a guided tour of the resident elven slums."

Fenris hated the alienage almost as soon as he set foot in it.

The alienage was not all that far from the docks. As Zev, being the sadistic bastard that he was, had woken them up at dawn, they arrived as the last wave of elves was leaving their homes to get to their jobs. The strange trio was the subject of many stares. Though Fenris couldn't make out the words being whispered about them, he had a fair idea of what their gist was.

Humans were not welcomed here.

Out of habit, Fenris drew closer to Hawke so that he could shield her from pointed looks and unkind words. The aura of oppression reigned heavy in the alienage and was nigh tangible. It seemed to Fenris that while the elves of the alienage were nominally free, they were still captives, shackled by the meager roles offered to them. An elf in this city was lucky to find a job as a servant or a day laborer. Poverty was common here, and one could see its ravages on every corner. The alienage was also a favorite hunting ground for all sorts of predators; indeed that was the chief reason why their group went to the alienage in the first place.

"Perhaps we should have split up before coming here," Zevran noted as he took in the glances they were receiving. His gaze sidled over to Hawke. "Not all of us fit in here."

"Oh really? I wonder who that could be?" Hawke replied airily. "It must be you, Zev. It's not every day that one runs into a person as dashing as you."

For all her bravado, Fenris could tell that the mageling was ill at ease with all the stares she was receiving. Apostates who attracted undue attention didn't remain out of the circle for long after all. Maybe it would have been better to keep her away and let the assassin hunt for information by himself. But then Fenris didn't exactly trust Zevran to handle things on his own, not only because the other elf had proved himself to be exceptionally skilled at bending the truth but because he had also proven to be incompetent when it came to tracking leads down on slavers.

"Ah yes, it must be me." Zevran preened under Hawke's words for a moment before his demeanor turned serious. "I hate to say this but you stick out like a sore thumb, little one. I don't think anyone will be willing to help us so long as you are around. Maybe you and Fenris can look at the alienage's market while I ask around?" the assassin suggested.

"Don't write me off so quickly. There are some of my kind around here, and you'll never be able to find them without me."

"Your kind?" Zevran repeated. "I'm afraid I do not follow you, little one."

Fenris checked a sigh. The mageling was obviously speaking of finding elven mages. While Fenris didn't really want to deal with other mages, he knew they were a favorite target of slave hunters. The mageling was smart to suggest that they start their search there.

While Fenris had been resigning himself to facing more mages, Zevran had kept busy interrogating Hawke about her last statement. The mageling wound up rolling her eyes and spelling out for the other elf what she had meant. Afterwards he asked, "You mean to say that you can tell who is a mage just by looking at them?"

"No, not by looking but rather how they feel," Hawke told him. "It's hard to explain. I can sort of tell if someone is a mage because of their connection with the Fade. A trained mage can hide that connection to some extent but an untrained mage cannot. That's part of what makes it easy for templars to hunt them down."

True to her word, Hawke was able to point out several elven mages to them. However none of them were willing to talk. At best the group received a pointed statement that the lady should look elsewhere if she needed more servants while at worst they faced open threats. Fenris fretted more and more with each failure. They were already conspicuous here because of Hawke. If they remained in the alienage with Hawke chasing after mages, it was only a matter of time before someone set the templars on them.

"This isn't working," Fenris grumbled to his companions after yet another dead end.

"No, it's not," Zevran agreed. He glanced over at Hawke. "I think we need to rethink our strategy here. You have been immensely useful, little one, but you're also making yourself a target. It would be better, I think, for us to leave for now. We can visit the market and then find another inn for the evening. I will come back later alone and see if anyone we spoke to earlier is feeling…more talkative."

Fenris snorted. "You're being optimistic," he noted. "What will you do if any of them decide to throw fireballs first and ask questions later?"

"Dodge, most likely. That's usually the best plan. It's certainly a better option than just standing still and taking a direct hit," Zevran replied smoothly. "And you have to be optimistic in my line of business. Besides it is not as though I would be returning as I am now. I know a fair amount about disguises. I wouldn't be any good at what I do if I didn't."

"Are you any good at what you do, Zev? You keep claiming that you are, but from what I've seen of your results so far, you don't impress me." Hawke smiled slyly at the elf as she poked fun at him.

"That's being kind," Fenris stated. The assassin had a point though. Hawke was only going to get herself into more trouble, most likely of the templar sort, if she remained here in the alienage. "However, as much as I hate to do so, I have to agree with the assassin in this instance," he said.

That earned him sharp glances from both Hawke and Zevran. "Are you feeling all right?" Hawke asked. She stood on her toes and laid a hand against his forehead. Startled at the sudden contact, he stepped back, causing the mageling to stumble slightly but she caught herself before she fell. "Well you don't appear to be running a fever. That's good, I guess. Still it's most unlike you to agree with Zevran about anything."

"There's a first time for everything," said Zevran. "Besides maybe a hangover is all our friend needed to come to his senses and realize that he should listen more to the dashing and charming elf in our party."

Hawke quirked up an eyebrow and shook her head. "Dashing and charming? Think highly of yourself much?"

"Someone here has to. I know you two don't," was the assassin's cheeky reply.

"As I've said before, you've not given us much reason to be impressed. I'll agree that you do cut a dashing figure but the only evidence of your charm so far was your persuading your way into your lady pirate's pants—wait, she wasn't wearing any. That doesn't count. We've no evidence of your charm at all."

Fenris knew that if he let the mageling and the assassin continue in this vein, then they would be at it all day. There were drawbacks to traveling with companions so enamored with their wit. "We're not making any progress here, and eventually some enterprising soul is going to tip off the templars just to be rid of Hawke," he said brusquely, putting an ending to the other two's verbal sparring. "While I am unsure just how much information the assassin will be able to dig up on his own, that's much less risky than what we're doing now." Fenris shrugged his shoulders. "If it doesn't work, we'll just come up with another plan later." He didn't add that this plan really wasn't much of one; that would only lead to both his companions raising their voices in protest and he didn't feel up to dealing with that right now.

"You know, I think he's trying to agree with both of us in his own awkward sort of way. When did Fenris become the diplomatic one, Zev?" The mageling took a step closer towards Zevran, turning towards him so that the two of them looked like conspirators.

"I know. It's most unlike him, isn't it? Are you certain that he didn't hit his head against anything last night?"

Great. Now the two of them were joining forces against him. Zevran's plan of going away and coming back along sounded more appealing than ever. At least that way, he could separate the mageling and the assassin so they couldn't unleash their combined wit to make fun of him. The two of them working together was enough to drive any man insane, and if he was being honest, Fenris would admit that his grasp on sanity wasn't all that strong to begin with. He didn't know how much more he could take of them. "If the two of you are done," he said stiffly, "then I believe it is time for us to leave." He spun on his heel and walked away in the opposite direction, not looking back to see if the others were following.

"You do realize that if you are trying to leave then you're heading the wrong way, right?" the assassin called out to him.

Fenris stopped dead in his tracks. He closed his eyes and counted silently. Of course, he had picked the wrong direction. Nothing was going his way today. Looking back, he should have tossed the assassin out of their room at the inn and then have proceeded to have slept for the rest of the day. However it was too late to fix things now, and so he would just have to deal with the other elf until it was time to send Zevran on his merry way back to the alienage.

Of course they would have to leave the alienage first. Opening his eyes, Fenris turned back around. "Lead the way then," he said, inclining a hand towards the assassin.

"Me? Lead? But why? When you were doing so well. If I remember the layout of this area of town—and believe me, I do—you were about to take us into a particularly nasty back alley." The assassin was now smirking at him. Fenris was seriously contemplating taking his mageling and running far away from Antiva after getting rid of the assassin that evening. At the moment he felt that dealing with the other elf wasn't worth any amount of coin.

"That's enough, Zev," Hawke told the assassin. She crossed over to stand by Fenris' side. She lightly brushed her fingers against his hand. His eyes flicked down to meet hers, and he could read a silent but sincere apology in them. "Come on. I believe you said we would head over to the market. It must be bigger than the one in the last town we were in," she said, directing her attention at the assassin again.

The blond elf stopped and stared at her, his jaw dropping open in shock. "Little one, comparing the market of Antiva City to the last one we were in…." Zevran's words trailed off while he shook his head. "I'm sorry. There is no comparison. You shall see when we get there. Follow me."

Author's note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. It makes me smiile to know all of you are enjoying this fic.