Poppy did her best to hold herself upright as the Qunari filed past her out of the throne room, out of the keep, and thank the bloody Maker in all his absent glory, out of Kirkwall with that blighted book. She braced herself on one of the great hall's columns, one arm clutched across the horrible wound in her gut, and panted while one grey giant after another passed her, faces set in stoic, disapproving acceptance.
It took everything she had not to slide to the floor, crying for her mother and begging for Anders to come and heal her before her insides turned into outsides and made the floor into some abstract scarlet painting. She would do that soon, but not yet, because the grey giants needed to remember that it was an outsider and a womanwho was Basilit-an and strong enough to face their Arishok in single combat and be the one standing at the end.
One paused as he passed her, and for a rare moment in her life, she felt small and fragile. He shook his head and said only "Victory is in the Qun."
For all the pain and exhaustion that had narrowed her world to a dark tunnel around the edges, Poppy still managed a laugh. Her guts made her regret it immediately, but it was worth it to see the kossith's eyes widen.
"Right now, big boy, I think victory is in a hot bath. Now shoo, before I get up off this column and taunt you a second time."