Promises: Chapter Twelve
Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.
Zevran led them through the city, sticking to the streets when possible like before. They did wind up on a gondola once, but the smell didn't bother Fenris as much as it had yesterday. Perhaps he was becoming acclimated to it. He wasn't sure that was a good thing.
Despite the size of the city, it took them less than an hour to reach their destination. As Zevran had claimed, there was no comparison between this market and the others they had seen in Antiva. The only marketplace that Fenris had ever seen that was as big and varied as Antiva City's was that of Minrathous. From the way Hawke's eyes were wide and how she kept turning her head to look around, she looked quite overwhelmed. Idly he wondered how Denerim's market compared to this one.
"From your expression, I gather that Denerim's market isn't as big as this one?" he asked, looking at her sideways.
Hawke shook her head, but any answer she was going to give was lost when the assassin audibly choked at Fenris' question. "Excuse me? You're trying to compare Denerim and Antiva City? Antiva City is one of the finest cities in the world, rivaled only by Val Royeaux. Denerim is full of mud and wet, smelly dogs and—ow!" Zevran stopped in his rant to glare at the mageling, who had viciously stepped on his foot with all her weight. "Maker's cock, that hurt!"
"Good." Hawke smirked at Zevran. "Denerim may indeed be full of mud and dogs, but trust me, Fenris, our mabari are smarter than any assassin you've ever met."
"I find that easy to believe. I am surprised though that you'd insult the mabari of your homeland by comparing their intelligence to that of certain assassins. That's damning them with faint praise from what I understand."
"All right. That's enough. You've made your point, little one." Zevran held up his hands in a sign of defeat. "I won't insult your homeland again."
"Oh Zev, don't make promises you can't keep," Hawke said.
"I was going to add at least not while you're in stomping distance." The blond elf grinned cheekily at the mageling. She sighed and shook her head a little before returning his smile.
"You're incorrigible," she told him.
"That's part of my charm," he returned.
"Hmm…I seem to recall establishing that you have no charm not all that long ago. Forgetful much?"
"If our friend here remembered every insult lobbed his way, I doubt he'd have any room in that small mind of his for anything else," Fenris said. It felt good to needle the assassin after the way he had baited Fenris earlier in the alienage.
However Fenris was disappointed to find that his remark only caused the assassin's grin to widen. "Oh ho! You called me your friend! That's a first. I shall have to make note of this in my diary tonight."
"You keep a diary?" Hawke said slowly. "You don't seem the type."
"Of course, I have a diary. How else am I to keep track of my many sins so that I can ask forgiveness for?" Zevran replied. "But enough of this. Let us look around, my friends. The day is still young, and we should see all that Antiva City has to offer."
They spent the better part of the day in the market, taking in the sights and sounds of that busy place. Hawke was especially enamored of a magic shop that Zevran directed them to. "There is one little shop in Denerim that sells magic amulets and staves," she said, pausing at the door to scan the entire store. "But it's nothing like this," she added before bounding off to the nearest bookshelf.
"Are you sure it's safe for us to be here?" Fenris asked the other elf as the mageling perused the shelves. "Surely templars must keep track of who comes and goes here."
"Actually they don't. The proprietor of this shop pays very well to make sure that none of his customers are bothered…well paying customers that is. That is why I took us here rather than to one of the other shops. I do have a modicum of sense, you know."
Fenris was hardly reassured but the mageling was frantically waving for him to come over and so he had no time to press the assassin further about the safety of the shop. "What is it?" he asked Hawke, stopping before her.
"Could you get me that book?" she asked. She pointed up at the second to highest shelf.
Fenris looked up. The mageling could be pointing to any number of books. "Which one do you want?"
"The one about force magic," she replied.
He looked back to the shelf and stifled a groan. That description did little to aid him as the markings on the spines held no meaning for him. "I don't see it," he told her.
"It's the brown book right next to the one about ice spells. On second thought, get me that one too. Please," she added with a smile.
"I'm not seeing that one either." From the corner of his eye, Fenris could see the mageling opening her mouth and he just knew she was going to tell him more titles to look for, which of course wouldn't help him. So rather than risk her discovering his secret, he took a step back so that he was directly behind her. He then placed his hands around her waist and gently lifted her up. His mageling was light, much lighter than his sword was, and he mentally berated himself for not doing this sooner. "There. Now you can reach them yourself," he told her.
"I guess this is quicker," she said. Hawke nimbly removed two books from the shelf, and she began flipping through them before Fenris had even set her down.
"Find something you like, little one?" asked Zevran as he approached them.
Hawke nodded her head yes vigorously. "Oh Maker yes. Especially this book about force magic. Father told me about it, of course, but he didn't know much about the specifics seeing as it wasn't his chosen specialty." She closed the book with a sigh. "It's an interesting read, but I'm afraid it's far too expensive."
"It can't be that much." The assassin reached out to take the book from Hawke. He gawked as he looked at the price. "I take that back. But if you want it—"
"No thank you, Zevran," she said with a firm shake of her head. "I don't need the book. I appreciate the offer, but you've spent enough on me already for my robes and all."
The assassin attempted to wave Hawke's concerns aside, but Hawke wasn't having it. Her smile remained pasted on her face as she steadfastly refused his offer to buy the tome. Finally Zevran gave up. He was no match for the mageling when it came to being stubborn.
They left the magic shop empty-handed thanks to Hawke's insistence and traveled on to visit the weapons and armor merchants. Zevran found a pair of new daggers that he purchased while Fenris settled for getting the edge of his sword sharpened once more. "Wouldn't a new sword suit you better?" asked the assassin as they all waited for the blacksmith to finish with the sword.
"I'm used to the weight and heft of this one," Fenris replied with a shrug of his shoulders. Zevran accepted his explanation with no further comment, and the trio moved on to the grocery part of the marketplace to restock their provisions for the road ahead. By the time they were finished, it was late afternoon and the crowds in the marketplace were beginning to disperse.
That was also the cue for them to find a place for the evening. Zevran took them to a small inn that was some distance away. As they entered, Fenris noted with approval that this place was much cleaner than the tavern they had stayed in the night before. Zevran, catching notice of Fenris' appraising glance, said with a chuckle, "Of course this place is better. I have standards unlike Isabela."
"I wonder what that says about you then," Hawke teased him.
"Nothing good, I'm sure." The assassin went up to the innkeeper in order to get them a room. There was some fast talking on Zevran's part as he bargained over the room and rate. Fenris ignored that but Hawke paid rapt attention to every word out of the assassin's mouth and she appeared to be taking mental notes. However even Fenris was impressed when Zevran turned back to them with a grin and announced not only had he got them an entire suite for the evening but he had also arranged for a hot dinner to be served to them in their rooms as well.
"You're almost as good at bargaining as Hawke is," Fenris told the other elf as they mounted the stairs to their suite.
"Is that another compliment I hear? Two in one day when I've naught heard one before? Will wonders never cease?" Zevran quipped.
Hawke rolled her eyes. "You are in a good mood, Zev. Personally I think Fenris doesn't go far enough. You're much better at negotiating than I am. I would have stopped at getting the suite for the price that you did."
"Ah! And that would have been your mistake, little one. Always ask for more. With some finesse of course, but that goes without saying," Zevran replied. He threw open the door to their suite with a flourish. "And here we are. Quite luxurious when compared to the hole in the wall last night, is it not?"
Fenris had seen finer suites in his days as Danarius' bodyguard, but this one was bright and clean. There were three adjoining rooms. The first room with its tables and chairs was a cross between a reception area and a sitting room. Further in, there was a large, spacious room that came with a single bed and was undoubtedly reserved for the leader of the group. A corner was cordoned off from it with a curtain in order to provide a space for washing up. Finally there was a smaller room in the back of the suite that had servants' quarters written all over it for it had three tiny beds crammed inside.
The trio had just set their packs down when a knock sounded on the door. "That must be our dinner," Hawke said, and she sprung up to answer it. The assassin was quick to wave the mageling down and instead answered the door himself. Zevran directed the serving girl carrying the meal to place it on the table in front of Hawke, and he fussed liberally over how it was arranged. Once everything was to his liking, he dismissed the serving girl after handing her a few bits for her trouble.
Zevran turned and fixed Hawke with a stern glare after the serving girl had departed. "Either Fenris or I will answer the door," he told her. "The story I told the innkeeper was that you are a lady who is traveling with her most loyal elven servants. No lady would ever open the door when she has someone available to do her bidding."
"And here I thought you would say that Fenris and I were your servants," Hawke said.
Fenris rolled his eyes at that. Was his mageling truly that naïve? While slavery was only allowed in Tevinter, the lot of elves was poor throughout the rest of Thedas. An elf who had servants, much less human servants, was unheard of and so would attract much attention indeed.
"Sometimes I forget that you're from the middle of nowhere," Zevran said half to himself and half to Hawke. He ignored the pointed look Hawke shot his way. "That story would never work, little one. Elves don't have servants; rather they are servants," he explained. "This is true no matter where you go."
"No, it's not," Hawke argued. "Considering that Fenris and I are sort of working for you, you could make an argument that I am your servant."
Zevran threw back his head and let out a short laugh. "Ha! You have me there, little one. You're quick as always. That being said, I would like to note that you would make an awful servant. In addition to your noticeable lack of domestic skills, you have a most distressing tendency to talk back. I do not think you would last a day as a servant anywhere."
Fenris didn't like this thread of conversation at all. If he hadn't rescued Hawke from the slavers when he did, it was all too clear to his mind just what use would have been found for her. His mageling was really too lovely for her own good—and for his own peace of mind. But he had rescued Hawke and that was one of the best things he had ever done, and so there was no point in lingering over what could have been his mageling's fate.
"I hope the two of you don't mind my eating while you continue to jabber away," he said. He snagged a chair and pulled it to the table so he could sit next to Hawke. Taking a plate, he piled it high with food although he avoided the eel dish. Hawke and Zevran followed his lead although the assassin proved he had poor taste by taking a generous serving of the eel. The three of them tucked in, not having eaten since breakfast, and the generous spread before them was demolished in short order.
Zevran put the dishes back on the tray and carried it over to the door in order to set it outside for the serving girl to pick up later. He then trotted over to their packs and started digging through one of them.
"What are you doing now?" Hawke asked, sitting up in interest.
"Looking for my supplies," the assassin replied absently. Finding what he was looking for, he stood up and walked over to the main room. "Wait right here," he commanded them. "And don't be surprised at how I look when I come out."
When Zevran returned, his hair was as dark as Hawke's. While his eyes remained unchanged, his posture was completely different. He slumped while he had stood up straight before, and somehow the elf looked as though he had aged ten years. The grin he gave them though was classic Zevran. "So what do you think? Am I good or am I good?" he asked with a wink.
"I'll let Hawke answer that," Fenris said. "I'm afraid that if I say anything remotely positive that you might collapse from shock."
"Yes, I might," Zevran agreed. He turned to Hawke. The mageling sighed once before agreeing with the assassin that he looked completely different from how he had been before. His pride sufficiently stoked the assassin left them with a word of warning. "No going out for either of you. Just stay here tonight. And please, by the Maker, no more trying to drink each other under the table. Words cannot describe how pathetic the two of you were this morning even though all you had to drink was some of the weakest ale in all of Antiva."
Author's note: A great big thanks to everyone kind enough to review the last chapter. Seriously you guys are all so sweet.