After a long and uneventful journey back to Kirkwall, the group split up, as Bethany and Varric needed to bathe, and they all arranged to meet up later at the Hanged Man.

Hawke, Fenris, Aveline and Donnic made straight for the Keep, the two guards eager to bring their account of Jeven's corruption to the Viscount, and they entered via the guardsmans' entrance, thus bypassing the huge line of Kirkwall residents seeking an audience with the city leader.

"Can I have a key for this entrance?" Hawke asked Aveline cheekily.

With a single look, she answered his question decisively, and Hawke laughed a little, his eyes briefly wandering over to Fenris to see if he, too, was laughing. He wasn't.

Making their way through the barracks, Aveline and Donnic were stopped a few times by their fellow guards but did not stop to chat. Most of the other guards guessed that Hawke and Fenris had been placed under arrest for fighting, as both of them were covered in bruises; Aveline, however, did nothing to disavow them of that assumption, not wanting the true nature of their visit known until she'd spoken with the Viscount.

Thankfully, Jevens's office door was closed, as was usual, when they passed it, although Aveline and Donnic were noticeably tense until they entered the main reception hall, relaxing a little as they walked up the stairs. Aveline was slow on the way up as her hip was still sore, but she bore the discomfort stoically, and Hawke quietly promised to treat her later, to which Aveline gave a grateful nod.

Finally reaching Seneschal Bran's office, Aveline and Donnic said a quick hello to the guards posted on either side of the door, and Aveline rapped firmly against it. After a moment, the door was opened, and a disgruntled Bran emerged.

"I told you I was not to be disturbed," he said to his guards, a note of irritation in his normally-mellifluous voice. "Is this so difficult for you to grasp? I have an appointment."

"Well, I've just made a new one," announced Aveline, pushing past the seneschal and barging into his office, followed by Donnic, who was doing his best not to laugh at Bran's aghast expression. "Out!" Aveline ordered the nobleman who was sat at Bran's desk, pointing to the door.

"Guardswoman Vallen," Bran said in a deceptively calm voice, folding his arms. "This is highly irregular. These kinds of back door shenanigans will not be tolerated in this office. Return to your post immediately. Expect a call from your captain later. I am not pleased."

"Actually, it's Jeven we're here to speak to you about, and it can't wait," Aveline insisted. "We can either have this conversation in front of your friend, here, or we can have it in private."

"I strongly recommend we have it in private," Donnic added.

A slight quirk of Bran's eyebrow belied his indignant stance, and he exhaled through his nose, unfolding his arms. "Lord Trinder; it appears a situation has arisen that demands my urgent attention. Would you excuse us?"

"But I have an appointment!" the outraged noble protested, springing up from his chair. "I've been waiting for weeks!"

"This will not take long," Bran assured him, holding the door open.

With a frustrated grunt, Lord Trinder stomped out of the office as Bran took a seat at his desk. "Close the door, Guardsman Hendyr," he ordered Donnic. "This had better be good."

"Wait there," Donnic whispered to Hawke and Fenris.

"Good luck," said Hawke as the door was closed.

With Fenris and Hawke left on their own outside the office, Hawke filled the awkward silence by examining a painting that hung on the wall opposite the door, while Fenris absent-mindedly brushed non-existent particles of fluff off his armour, a habit of his that Hawke had noticed on several occasions.

With a quiet sigh, Hawke eventually decided to break the silence. "Bet you'd love to be a fly on the wall in there, wouldn't you?" he asked Fenris, still looking at the painting.

Fenris halted his movements and frowned. "A fly on the wall?"

Hawke turned toward him, but looked at the door. "Yes, if you were a fly on the wall, you could hear everything that was being said, and they wouldn't know you were there, would they?"

Fenris's frown deepened, and he nodded. "A curious expression, but one that is rather apposite, here."

"It is, isn't it?" Hawke turned back to face the painting, although he had no idea of what was depicted in the picture, as he'd been staring right through it.

Fenris raised his head and watched Hawke while his back was turned. Since their altercation in the cave, he'd experienced an unpleasant gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. Although he believed his stance on blood magic was correct, he regretted some of the things he'd said to Hawke, and also regretted that they'd both let their tempers get the better of them.

It was clear that the two of them would never agree on this subject, but what had also become clear to Fenris was that Hawke was someone who looked after, and stood up for, his friends. Fenris knew that Hawke was still annoyed with Anders for running out on them after their quarrel, and yet Hawke had not hesitated to defend him when Fenris had called him an abomination.

He'd also noticed that, upon their entrance into the Keep, some of the nobles had once again quite blatantly stared at Fenris, and that again Hawke had fixed every one of them with a hateful glare. It seemed that Hawke was someone who was not afraid to speak his mind, but the fact he disagreed with one of his friends did not sway his loyalty to them.

Was that what Hawke was, now? A friend? Although Hawke had professed his friendship several times, Fenris had not allowed himself to believe or accept it so far. The man was a mage, and, although he was clearly not Danarius, surely one day he would succumb to the innate yearning for power that all mages were born with? If Hawke had been born in Tevinter he would no doubt by now be a powerful magister, perhaps even one to rival Danarius.

He heard Hawke sigh again, and, watching as the mage turned away from the painting, still facing away from him, he once again felt that uncomfortable, gnawing sensation deep in his stomach.

At that moment, the door to Seneschal Bran's office was opened, and the seneschal, Aveline and Donnic exited, walking across to a set of double doors, through which they disappeared. Aveline very quickly turned to Hawke and smiled as she closed the doors behind her.

"I wonder where they're going?" Hawke wondered aloud.

One of Seneschal Bran's guards beckoned him over. "The Viscount's office is through there. Aveline and Donnic must have something big to get in there without an appointment. You came in with them; what's going on?"

"Erm…I don't really think it's for me to say," Hawke mumbled.

"Aw, go on," the guard urged.

"I'm certain that an announcement will be made soon," replied Hawke with an apologetic shrug. "Aveline should be the one to tell you all."

"Bloody spoilsport," grumbled the guard, assuming his original position, and he and his neighbour immediately began speculating as to what this 'announcement' would be.

Hawke walked away from the guards and stopped a short distance from the double doors. Fenris slowly followed him but kept his distance, still watching him.

"Fenris…don't you think we should clear the air?" suggested Hawke, taking the elf by surprise. "I don't like there being a bad atmosphere."

Fenris coughed quietly, stepped a little closer and opened his mouth, but could not think of anything useful to say.

"It was inevitable that we would argue about blood magic; well, magic of any kind, really," began Hawke. "We both have very strong views on the subject, and both of us feel our opinion is valid. I said valid, Fenris, not right or wrong. I know I took issue with what you said, but I want you to know that I respect your opinion, even if I happen to disagree with it."

"Oh. I…did not expect you to say that," said Fenris quietly.

Hawke finally looked at Fenris. "I do disagree with you, Fenris, but I also understand why you feel the way you do. You have to understand that I've experienced prejudice against mages my entire life, but most of that prejudice has stemmed from ignorance or fear. You do have a good reason to distrust mages. I didn't mean what I said about you being ignorant; it was just my temper talking."

Fenris hung his head and nodded slowly. "I also regret some of the things I said."

"Is that an apology?" Hawke asked, his voice softer.

"No." Fenris looked into Hawke's eyes, and Hawke was certain he saw a hint of amusement there.

"Well, in that case, I'm not apologising, either," answered Hawke, unable to pull his gaze away from Fenris's huge, fern-green eyes, feeling his heart rate quicken.

Fenris's heavy lids blinked once, and his eyes moved to the side of Hawke. "You already did."

Hawke began to laugh then, and noticed an almost imperceptible softening of Fenris's features. "You're even more stubborn than I am; admit it, Fenris."

"I will do no such thing."

Hawke's laughter deepened, and he felt his eyes moisten. Taking a deep breath and exhaling, he let his head fall back, feeling the tension of the past few hours melt away.

"Perhaps…we should not discuss that particular topic again," Fenris ventured.

"No, don't you see, Fenris? We should discuss it, as much as possible; there's nothing wrong with having differences, but when we don't talk about them, those differences fester and become blown out of all proportion. I don't want that for…I don't want that to happen, with anyone."

"You wish for us to argue again?"

"No, I want us to have a discussion. I…I did let my temper get the better of me before, and I am sorry for that. Although…you did provoke me a bit."

Fenris shook his head and scowled. "And you didn't?"

"Are we having another argument?" asked Hawke with a smile. "An argument about having an argument?"

Fenris's shoulders shook gently as a hesitant laugh rolled through him, and Hawke pressed his lips together to suppress an idiotic grin. "We are fools," Fenris declared.

"We?" Hawke teased. "Watch who you're calling a fool, Elf."

Fenris's right eyebrow shot up. "So now we are arguing over who is the bigger fool…from where I am standing, the answer is incontrovertible."

"It certainly is, Fenris."

Once again, Fenris laughed, but this was the kind of laugh that would have him spraying tea, had he been drinking it. Hawke's delighted grin faded a little as Fenris immediately covered his mouth with his hand.

"Why do you do that?" Hawke asked.

"Do…what?"

"Cover your mouth when you laugh. You shouldn't, you know."

Fenris moved his hand away from his mouth and stared at it. "I was not aware…I…do not know why."

Hawke's belly tightened and for a second he almost told Fenris that he loved to see him laugh, but stopped himself, not wanting to make Fenris uncomfortable.

The two men stepped apart, not having realised how close they were standing to each other, as the double doors opened and Donnic headed over to them.

"Just thought I'd let you both know that you won't be needed to give evidence," he told them. "Apparently, the Viscount's office has been keeping an eye on Jeven for some time, now, and the Viscount's taking mine and Aveline's word for it."

"That's wonderful!" said Hawke, clapping Donnic on the shoulder.

"You two may as well go, for now," said Donnic. "Bran's going through a load of files. This is going to go through the magistrate's court, so evidence will need to be gathered, but with the Viscount behind us, Jeven will be going away for a long time." He held out his hand to Hawke, who shook it firmly, and then offered it to Fenris, who stiffened and hesitated.

"He's injured his hand," Hawke said quickly. "Shaking it's probably not a good idea."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," said Donnic.

"I'm…going to have a look at it, now," explained Hawke.

"Well, I'll have to shake your hand another time, then," promised Donnic, and Fenris nodded once. "I'd better get back. Thanks again for all you've done. Come back a bit later, all right? Hopefully everything will have been cleared up by then."

"I will," replied Hawke. "I need to give Aveline some advice on that hip; it'll be stiff for a while, and I can recommend some exercises to her."

"Thanks for looking after her, Hawke," Donnic said with a soft smile, before he cleared his throat. "Well, I'd better go." He turned and disappeared back through the double doors.

"Well, Fenris, if I didn't know better, I'd swear that Donnic also has a bit of a soft spot for Aveline."

Getting no answer from Fenris, Hawke turned slightly to face him.

"Why did you do that?" Fenris demanded, his expression hard.

Hawke's smile instantly vanished. "Do what?"

"You told him that I had injured my hand. Why?"

Hawke's heart sank, realising he'd offended Fenris again. "Erm, I just…I could see that you were uncomfortable." He sighed. "I-I didn't mean to speak for you, Fenris. I'm sorry. I won't do it again." He walked away and started to head down the stairs, shaking his head, his stomach in knots.

Without looking back, he exited the Keep and quickly walked along the Viscount's Way, feeling a pressing need to use a latrine. Before long, he heard soft footsteps behind him.

"Hawke."

Hawke halted and turned around to face Fenris, and, upon seeing the hurt in Hawke's eyes, Fenris hung his head.

"Hawke…" He turned away slightly and for a few moments didn't speak. "I…when Danarius was entertaining guests, I was not permitted to speak without his leave. Often, he spoke for me. When you spoke for me just now, my initial reaction was one of relief and gratitude, but I also felt resentment and anger. It…reminded me."

"I should have realised," Hawke said sadly, also hanging his head.

"No." Fenris turned back to face him. "You were not at fault. I see now that you were…being a friend. I am not used to others standing in my corner, and sometimes I appear ungrateful when in fact the opposite is true. I…appreciate what you did, and I apologise for my reaction. I hope…" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I do not know why you…why you are still here."

"Why I'm still your friend, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Because I like you," Hawke said simply with a shrug.

Fenris opened his eyes and glanced up at Hawke. "I cannot imagine why," he said quietly.

"Neither can I," replied Hawke, "but, as you once told me, I am a very strange man."

Fenris glanced at the floor. "You are, indeed."

Hawke took a deep breath and continued walking, as did Fenris. "Well, I need to get home. Will you be coming to The Hanged Man later?"

"Perhaps; I will see."

Hawke nodded, his face blank as they reached the main square. "I'm going this way," he said with a nod to his left. "I might see you later, then." His face still expressionless, Hawke walked away in the direction of Lowtown, and Fenris watched him until he was out of sight, once or twice tempted to go after him, but having no idea of what to say if he did. He took a slow walk back to the mansion, the hot gnawing in the pit of his belly stronger than ever, wondering if he'd pushed Hawke too far this time.

~o~O~o~

Arriving home, Hawke laid his staff against the wall and was greeted by Bethany, who was bent over their rickety dining table, writing.

"Hello, Beth. Just you home?"

"Yes, Gamlen's gone out. Didn't ask where. Mother's out shopping. There are a couple of letters here for you, Fletcher."

He frowned, took a seat opposite her, and examined the letters, both of which bore the Chantry's seal. "What are you writing?" he asked casually.

"A list," she answered in a mischievous voice. "A list of things you need to do to win Fenris's heart."

Hawke burst out laughing. "What, should I take him some flowers? I can imagine where they'll end up, and it won't be in a vase, I can tell you."

"Now, now, Brother," Bethany tsked. "Faint heart ne'er won fair elf."

"You are daft, you know that?"

"Call me that again and I won't show you my list," she threatened. "I've almost finished it; read your letters."

Hawke reached for his sister's hand and kissed it, and then opened the first of his letters.

Messere Hawke,

Once again the Templar Order is in your debt. Please visit The Gallows at your earliest convenience for your reward.

Knight-Captain Cullen.

Hawke placed the letter down and stared at it. Once again, he was being offered a reward for helping to capture apostate mages, the very thing he'd sworn he would never do. Yes, those mages had attacked them, and their leader had very nearly killed Aveline, but still the idea did not sit easily with him.

Hearing a high-pitched squeak from the corner, he was rudely reminded of exactly what that money would mean as a rat darted across the room. Bethany leapt to her feet and ran over to the opposite wall. "Oh, Fletcher, get rid of it!"

Hawke chased after the rat, trying several times without success to stomp on it. "All right, you asked for it, you bastard!" Seizing his staff, he pointed it at the rat and uttered something under his breath. The rat promptly burst into flames but continued to dart around the room, its squeaks now shrill and vociferous.

"Oh, I can't stand it!" wailed Bethany, grabbing her own staff and turning the rat into a block of ice. "Oh, Fletcher, I hate living here!"

"I know, I know," he said softly as he kicked the ball of ice across the room and out of the back door. "I'll bury that later. Better still, I'll leave it for Gamlen; this is his house, after all." He closed the back door and walked over to Bethany, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Sister, I'm going to do everything I can to get this money together. We just need to wait a bit longer."

"I know you're doing your best," she replied, "and I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Go and finish your list," he told her with a strained smile. They both walked back to the table and sat down, and he pocketed Cullen's letter, deciding that his conscience would have to be put on hold for a while.

Opening the second letter, his eyes went to the name at the bottom and he frowned. "…Who?"

Serah Hawke,

I write to once again extend my deep gratitude to you and your friends for your help. If you are willing, I dare to impose upon your good nature one more time. It has come to my attention that the Harrimans, a noble family of Starkhaven, were responsible for the murder of my family.

I find it difficult to believe that the Harrimans, whom I have known for my entire life, could have perpetrated this atrocity, but I cannot ignore the claim, and I intend to investigate, but cannot do so alone.

You will be well-compensated for your assistance, should you decide to render it. I would appreciate your answer as soon as you are able; you will find me in the chantry most of the time, or you may leave a message in my absence.

Maker watch over you and your loved ones.

Sebastian Vael.

"Who the hell is Sebastian Vael?" mumbled Hawke, his brow furrowing.

"Wasn't it that prince fellow, the one with the amazing blue eyes?" offered Bethany.

"No, his name was Stanley, or something…I think. Maker, I've done so many jobs for so many different people I can't remember them all."

Bethany took the letter and read it. "Yes, it's him; you met him at the chantry before, remember? His family were murdered? The Flint Company?"

"The Flint Company." Hawke snapped his fingers in realisation. "Hmm, he paid us quite well, as I remember." He folded the letter and pocketed it along with the one from Cullen.

"You don't seem so enraptured with his amazing eyes now, do you?" Bethany teased. "Probably because you know someone with amazing green eyes, now."

Hawke folded his arms. "Thinking too much gives you wrinkles, you know."

"Twaddle," she answered. "Now, are you ready to go through my list?"

He rolled his eyes and groaned. "All right then, Sister. What have you come up with?"

She cleared her throat and leaned forward a little. "Well, I think you should invite him here for a meal. I don't mean tea and biscuits; I mean a proper meal, with Mother and I, preferably when Gamlen's out. That way, he can get to know us, and he'll see that we're just a normal family, and we don't spend all our spare time making blood sacrifices or howling at the moon."

"You want me to invite him here for a meal with my family?" Hawke laughed. "The only way I could be more obvious would be by tearing my robe off and hurling myself at his feet."

"I don't see how," she replied. "Anders has been here for a meal, and so has Varric, and neither of them think you fancy them, do they?"

"Bloody hell, I hope not." He shook his head. "What's next on the list?"

"Well, you were saying that the two of you have nothing in common, so you need to find something in common. You need a shared interest, or a goal you can work towards together."

"Now that is a good idea, Beth, but believe me, I've wracked my brain trying to think of something we have in common. Besides the fact we both breathe air, that's about it."

"Be positive!" she chided. "You both have eyes, a nose and a mouth, as well! No, you need something to talk about, discuss. What about books? You like a good story, don't you? Fenris seems like an intelligent man, to me. Ask him what he likes to read."

Hawke slowly got to his feet, staring at the far wall. "You know, Bethany…you could be onto something, there." A smile slowly crept onto his face and he glanced down at his sister. "You, Sister, are a little genius."

"About time you acknowledged that," she said immodestly, and then giggled. "Why don't you take him some of your favourite books? You could read them together."

Hawke glanced around the room, not really knowing why, as only he and Bethany were there. "Well, the thing is, he can't actually read."

Bethany looked surprised for a moment and then she nodded. "I suppose that would make sense, as he was a former slave."

"I could offer to teach him…what do you think?"

"Oh, what a wonderful idea! And learning to read isn't something that can be done overnight. This could be the goal that you work towards together!"

"Oh, I don't know, Beth." Hawke sighed and turned away from her, sitting on the edge of the table. "He might be offended if I offer, might see it as charity. He strikes me as being very proud."

"Then have him do something for you in return," she suggested, casting him a stern glance as he turned and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, trust you! No, nothing like that. I don't know…maybe he could teach you a few moves with his sword?"

Hawke's eyebrow crept even higher, and Bethany threw a screwed-up piece of paper at his face.

"Ow, that hurt," he moaned, rubbing the tip of his nose. He pushed himself off the table and grabbed his staff, slipping it through the straps on his back. "I'll be back later. I've got to go to the chantry, the Keep, and…maybe somewhere else in Hightown," he finished with a wink.

"But Brother, I haven't finished reading my list!" she protested.

"Keep it handy," advised Hawke. "This could very well go tits-up." He opened the door and stepped outside. Just before he closed it, he popped his head back through. "You're the best, Sister, you know that?"

"Of course I know," she chuckled. "Now, off you go, and best of luck."

~o~O~o~

Hawke stood at the foot of the dreaded steps leading up to Hightown, deciding where he would visit first. It was probably too early to check back with Aveline; she was most likely still with the Viscount. He would have to pass the chantry on the way to the mansion, so he could visit there first. Or should he visit Fenris first? The thing was, if he and Fenris ended up arguing again, he'd be in a foul mood for the rest of the day. The chantry first, then.

But he wanted to see Fenris first.

He growled under his breath. "Let's just get these blasted steps out of the way, first," he said aloud, getting a strange glance from a passer-by. "Once a day, and then I'll become accustomed to them."

Slowly, he made his way up the steps, taking a couple of short breaks on the way up when his legs started to ache. He finally reached the top and felt his stomach growl, realising that he hadn't actually had anything to eat so far today. "So I can go all the way to mid-afternoon without feeling hungry?" he asked himself. "Interesting."

He turned and headed all the way back down the steps, and once again stood at the bottom, looking up. "Twice a day," he resolved. "And this time, no breaks. It won't hurt me to lose a bit of weight."

~o~O~o~

Two sisters ran forward as a sweat-soaked, beetroot-faced Hawke entered the chantry.

"Oh, you poor man!" one of them gasped, taking his arm. "Do you require succour?"

"Oh no, I don't require…succour, whatever that is, thank you. I'm looking for Sebastian. The prince chap."

"Oh, he's at the altar, praying. So dedicated to the Maker is he."

Hawke nodded. "Thanks very much."

Not having a clue where the altar actually was, Hawke ambled around aimlessly looking at various candles and drapes until a familiar brogue caught his attention.

"Serah Hawke! You received my letter," said a voice from above him.

Hawke glanced up to see a pair of bright blue eyes looking back at him from over a railing. "Stay there, serah; I'll come down to you."

"So that's where the altar is," Hawke mumbled as the man in the custom-made armour descended the stairs. "How are the elderly or crippled supposed to get up there?" He shrugged and walked over to Sebastian, who held his hand out as he approached. Hawke shook it.

"I thank you for coming to see me again, Serah Hawke," Sebastian began.

"Please, Hawke will be fine. How should I address you? Your Highness? Sebastian? Seb?"

Sebastian chuckled good-naturedly. "I prefer Sebastian."

"Sebastian it is, then."

"Might I ask if you would be willing to render assistance to me once again?" he asked. "I could hire a mercenary band, but I would prefer not to go down that road, and you and your friends proved most capable the last time. I thought I would approach you first."

"Yes, we'll help," answered Hawke, and Sebastian bowed slightly. "I can't do it until tomorrow, though; I have a few things to take care of today, and I need to get some people together."

"That is even sooner than I had hoped for," Sebastian replied gratefully. "Truly, the Maker sent you to me."

"I don't know what time it will be," said Hawke thoughtfully. "I wouldn't like to give you a time and then be late, but it should be before lunchtime. Is that all right? Shall I meet you here?"

"Come when you may; I will be here all day."

Hawke nodded and glanced around. "Do you…work here, or something?"

Sebastian shook his head and laughed softly. "Not exactly. I am in the process of preparing to take vows as a brother."

"But…I thought you were a prince?"

Sebastian sighed. "It's a long story; perhaps one you do not have time to hear today. Maybe I'll tell you tomorrow, if you're truly interested?"

"All right," said Hawke with a nod. "See you tomorrow, then."

Sebastian once again shook Hawke's hand and bowed. "Andraste guide you, Hawke."

"You, as well," replied Hawke, and he made his way out.

He stood outside the chantry for several minutes, looking up at the steps that led to the Hightown Estates. So, he was about to ask a proud, prickly man who hated mages if he would like to be taught to read. By a mage. Nothing hard about that. Should Hawke just come out and say it? No…maybe he should approach the subject obliquely. But then, Fenris appreciated directness. But Hawke couldn't just ask him as soon as he opened the door, could he?

"This was a stupid idea," he grumbled to himself. "What was I thinking? Whatever I do, it's not going to end well, is it?"

He trudged down the steps leading away from the chantry, and, as he turned in the direction of the Keep, he collided with a startled Fenris, who dropped a small sack he was carrying.

"Fenris! I'm sorry," he exclaimed, rushing to pick up the sack.

Fenris beat him to it, though, and dusted himself down. "Hawke…I did not expect to see you here again."

"Oh, I just went to the chantry," he said casually. "What's in the sack? Anything nice?"

"I have purchased some provisions," he said, opening the bag for Hawke to examine. Inside were some potatoes and a small joint of meat.

"Fed up of porridge and biscuits, eh?"

"A little, yes," Fenris answered with a rueful shrug. "Would…would you care to…I mean, there is too much here for me. Have you eaten?"

"Believe it or not, I haven't, and you'll probably hear my stomach growl in a minute to prove it."

"You travelled up the steps on an empty stomach?" asked Fenris.

"I know. I'm as weak as a kitten."

Fenris's eyes crinkled slightly. "Then, if you have no other plans, I would gladly share my food with you…if you would like."

A warm glow spread through Hawke's chest, but he affected a casual expression. "Well that's very decent of you, Fenris; I gratefully accept your kind offer. Maybe after we've eaten, you could come back to the Keep with me? I'd like to know what's gone on with Aveline."

"I would like that," replied Fenris, and the two of them headed for the mansion.

"Do you know how to make gravy?" asked Hawke as they started up the steps.

"No, I don't."

"Well, I know it involves the juices from the meat and flour, but I'm sure there's more to it than that. There are bound to be some recipe books in that library of yours."

"I'm sure there are; we will have a look upon entering."

"Perfect," said Hawke, keeping the crafty smile that threatened to split his face well-hidden.