Ugh! Throughout this chapter there are several Qunari phrases which I've translated at the end of the chapter. For some reason, though, the site has not followed my HTML instructions to list the numbers in superscript, so apologies if the numbers dotted throughout look a bit clunky.

~o~O~o~

Fenris and Hawke waited around a corner and watched from a discreet distance to see if, as they strongly suspected, the gang of men would attack the woman.

Their suspicions were soon confirmed: after a brief conversation, one of the men attempted to grab the woman's coin purse. Stupidly, she resisted, and was seized by two of the men and dragged into a shop doorway.

Having the element of surprise as their advantage, Fenris and Hawke charged to the woman's rescue, and, after a surprisingly easy fight, most of the men were disabled by Hawke's magic; a few others lay dead, courtesy of Fenris.

After the elf had informed one of the guards on duty in Lowtown of what had occurred, the two men returned to the woman to check on her, finding her cowering in a corner, not far from where the attack had taken place.

"You are…a mage?" she asked warily as Hawke approached her. "An apostate?"

"An apostate who has just saved your life," Fenris reminded her sternly.

"What did you think you were doing, going off into an alley with a group of armed men?" Hawke questioned her.

The woman shook her head and clasped her hands together. "I am searching for able men to assist me with an urgent matter. Those…men assured me that they would aid me."

"They almost aided you to the Maker's side," Fenris remarked acerbically, wiping blood off his sword with a rag. "Come with us; we will escort you to the chantry."

"No," the woman asserted, smoothing down her robes. "There is no time to lose. Perhaps…you two seem able, as well as honourable, men. Yes…you could be just what I'm looking for."

Hawke shook his head firmly. "I'm sorry, but whatever it is you think we can help you with, we have plans. We're on our way to Hightown; let us see you back."

The woman took a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and pressed it into Hawke's palm. "Please, meet me at this address as soon as you are able. I will explain everything when you arrive." With that, she turned and left the alley.

"Wait! I didn't agree to…!" Hawke's mouth gaped open, and he stared at the woman's retreating back.

"Where is this address?" Fenris asked, stepping closer to Hawke.

"No! We've already helped her; we have to get back for your reading lesson," whined Hawke.

"If we do not assist her, she may turn to street thugs again," Fenris quantified, gesturing at the note in Hawke's hand. "I would not want to be responsible for her placing herself in danger again; she is clearly dull-witted."

"Is this Guardsman Fen-Fen speaking?" Hawke teased, unfolding the note, and Fenris crossed his arms, a hint of a warning in his eyes. "By the way, I loved the way you told her off: that was very authoritative of you," Hawke added with a wink. "And I'm dying to see you in this new armour of yours."

One of Fenris's eyebrows rose, and the edges of his eyes crinkled softly. "…The address?"

Hawke tutted and scanned the piece of paper. "It's in Lowtown, not far from here."

"Then let us see what is afoot," said Fenris, walking ahead.

"But, Fenris…"

"There will be plenty of time for reading lessons, Hawke," Fenris called from ahead. "We should investigate this."

"I couldn't give a monkey's nuts about the reading lesson," Hawke bleated, trudging behind the elf.

Fenris halted and his head slowly turned towards Hawke, his dark brow rising higher.

"Doesn't that eyebrow of yours ever get tired?" Hawke asked with a note of petulance in his voice.

"No, Hawke; in fact, since we met, it has had so much exercise that it is now the strongest eyebrow in all of Thedas."

"Bloody cheek," Hawke muttered as he caught up.

"You were saying that you did not care for the reading lesson?" queried Fenris with a playful glint in his eyes.

"No…I didn't actually say that," Hawke began, holding his hands up in appeasement, trying not to laugh at Fenris's ever-ascending supercilium. "What I meant was…erm…your medicine…yes! That's it…the reading lesson pales in significance compared to your medicine. You have to have that; it's important."

"I…see," said Fenris slowly. "And the cosying-up on the settee?"

"Weeeell," Hawke drawled with a shrug, "that would have been nice, I suppose, but the medicine really is what I'm concerned about: I'm just being a conscientious healer."

Fenris stared at Hawke, his face expressionless.

"What, no eyebrow?"

"The unthinkable has happened, Hawke," Fenris stated as he continued to walk on. "You've worn it out."

Hawke stood in place, shaking his head and trying not to laugh, but failing miserably.

Fenris turned back again. "I am merely being a conscientious guard, Hawke."

Hawke groaned and started to follow the elf. "Whose stupid idea was it for you to become a guard, anyway?" he complained.

"Not mine," Fenris chuckled quietly.

Although crestfallen that his plans for an evening of snuggling had been all but destroyed, the memory of Fenris's earlier kiss lingered, making Hawke's lips tingle, and he bounded forward with renewed zeal, nudging Fenris with his elbow as he arrived next to him. "I expect a double reading lesson when we get back."

Fenris glanced at Hawke's elbow and nodded solemnly. "And will that also entail a double cosying-up on the settee?"

"Only if we can find the time. Priorities and all that, you know?"

"I am certain we will find a way to make time for…priorities," replied Fenris, and he shyly nudged Hawke back, who barely resisted the urge to giggle like a loon, striving for a modicum of decorum. A chuckle escaped, despite his efforts.

Before long, they arrived at the address provided by the blonde-haired woman. "Let's get this done quickly," said Hawke. "Medicine," he reminded the elf.

Fenris stepped in front of Hawke and once again drew his sword. He then pushed the door open without knocking upon it.

As soon as they entered, a man dressed in templar armour leapt out of a chair and unsheathed his sword, advancing on them.

Hawke stumbled back in surprise and reached for his staff. "A templar? What the bloody hell…?"

"Just try it," snarled Fenris, his own sword already at the templar's throat.

"Varnell! Stand down!" commanded a familiar voice. A look of doubt came into the templar's eyes and he slowly lowered his weapon as the blonde-haired woman entered the room. Fenris, however, did not lower his.

"All right, just what's going on here?" demanded Hawke.

"Please," implored the sister. "Varnell is my bodyguard; precautions were necessary. We did not mean to frighten you." With a nod to Varnell, the templar stepped back and sheathed his sword, but Fenris advanced on him, keeping his own sword directed at Varnell's throat. "I see you have similar protection," the woman said to Hawke. "Please instruct him to withdraw."

"He is not my bodyguard," Hawke said angrily. "He'll withdraw when he sees fit!"

"Then you have my apologies," she said to Fenris. "Please…when I explain, you will understand our caution."

Hawke and Fenris exchanged a glance, and Fenris lowered his sword, but kept it drawn.

"Talk," Hawke ordered.

"I am Sister Petrice, and this, as you know, is Ser Varnell," she said, gesturing at the templar. "Might we know your names?"

Met with silence, she nodded. "Your reticence is understandable. I have come into possession of…well, see for yourselves." She walked through to the next room, followed by Varnell. Fenris once again pushed in front of Hawke, his sword at the ready.

Both men stopped in their tracks at the sight that met them. At the rear of the room stood a gigantic Kossith, who was bound with heavy chains and a restraining collar. His horns had been removed and his mouth sewn shut, although it appeared an attempt had been made to remove the stitches.

Fenris cautiously approached the captive and studied him carefully. "A saarebas?" he asked no one in particular.

"A Qunari mage? What have you done to him?" accused Hawke, arriving beside Fenris.

"His bonds are not of our making," explained Petrice, "but of his own people."

"Where is his karataam, his Arvaarad?" demanded the elf.

"He became separated from them," replied Petrice.

Fenris regarded Petrice warily for a moment, and then turned his gaze back to the sarebaas. "Then he will be put to death," Fenris surmised.

"What?" spluttered Hawke. "What do you mean? What's a…karataam?"

"Perhaps you should ask Sister Petrice," Fenris answered shortly, once again casting a doubtful glance at her. "She seems to know what it means."

"I have heard the term in passing," she claimed, "but I would not be able to provide an adequate description, I fear."

"His karataam are the group with which he travels, under the command of Arvaarad. I suppose they are similar to your templars," Fenris clarified, not taking his eyes off Petrice. "In accordance with the Qun, a saarebas that becomes detached from his karataam is Issala: dust."

"But why?" asked Hawke, clearly disturbed. "Why don't they just recapture him? Why must he be put to death?"

"The Arvaarad are not as lenient as the Templars," Fenris explained, turning back to Hawke. "Whereas the Templars would suspect an apostate of practising blood magic or of being possessed, and would study the mage for signs of those occurrences, to Arvaarad, possession is inevitable once a saarebas has been separated from its karataam. They do not leave anything to chance."

Fenris took a step closer to the saarebas and looked up at him. "Asit tal-eb1."

The creature nodded once, but made no sound.

"He sees the way of things," Fenris stated gravely. "He must be returned to his karataam forthwith."

"And what is your opinion, serah?" Petrice asked Hawke, sensing that he was moved by the saarebas's plight. "Would you condemn this proud being to ritual death for nothing more than being a mage?"

"It is the way of the Qunari," Fenris interjected. "Their affairs are not for us to meddle in."

Hawke stepped closer to the saarebas and examined his collar. "Does this hurt?" he asked the creature. "Are you in pain?"

The saarebas gave no answer.

"Hawke," Fenris said quietly, placing a hand on the mage's arm. "This is not our affair. We should not interfere."

"Serah Hawke," Petrice said, having heard Fenris say his name. "Your friend seems quite willing to walk away from this, but you yourself have not yet spoken."

"Wait a minute," said Hawke, turning to face her. "What do you care what happens to him? Doesn't the Chantry consider the Qunari to be heathens? And you certainly have no love for mages; I can testify to that."

"That may be so," Petrice answered smoothly, "but the more enlightened among us are able to look past such things. When I heard of this creature's predicament, I knew I could not turn my back on him."

"What do you want from us?" Hawke asked, hearing a quiet sigh from Fenris.

"Take him away from here, where his captors cannot reach him and he can be with others of his kind…the Tal'Vashoth, I believe they are called. You, as a mage, walk freely among us, Serah Hawke. Does this creature not deserve the same?"

"If you care for his predicament as you claim, why do you not emancipate him?" Fenris asked suspiciously.

"As your friend so shrewdly stated, Ser Elf, the Chantry considers his kind to be heathens. I cannot be seen rendering aid to the Qunari, as much as I would desire to."

Hawke exhaled and once again looked up at the saarebas. "What do you want to do?" he asked the creature.

Again, the saarebas did not answer.

Groaning in frustration, Hawke was taken aside by Fenris.

"What he wants is clear, Hawke. He is bound by the will of the Qun, and knows his fate. We should take him to the Arishok."

"But they'll kill him!" Hawke whispered harshly.

"Yes, that is their way. It is not up to us to decide his fate; that has already been determined."

"But I can't…" Hawke placed his hands on top of his head. "Fenris, I respect what you're saying, I really do, but I can't just let him to be put to death, can I? Surely he has a right to decide his own fate?"

Fenris exhaled and went to reply, but instead shook his head.

"Fenris…when we first came in here, I was determined to say no to whatever it was this Petrice wanted. But, now I've seen him…I-I can't walk away from this, Fenris. I'm sorry."

Fenris held Hawke's gaze for a moment, and then nodded. "Let us be off, then."

"Y-you'll help me? But…what changed your mind?"

"I have not changed my mind. We will discuss it later," said Fenris, his voice free of reproach. Hawke placed a hand on Fenris's shoulder and softly squeezed it. He then turned back to Petrice.

"All right, we'll help," he told her.

"Wait," Fenris interrupted, stepping between Hawke and Petrice. "We should bring the others. I do not trust her motives," he said with a stony glance at the sister.

"That is your privilege, Ser Elf," she answered calmly, but her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Good idea, Fenris," Hawke replied. "We'll be back soon," he told Petrice.

~o~O~o~

Varric was pleased that Hawke and Fenris interrupted the card game, as his hand was rotten; Anders, however, was not as happy, as he appeared to be winning. The game was soon forgotten, though, once Hawke had explained the reason for the interruption, and Anders and Bethany eagerly walked on ahead, neither of them having ever seen a saarebas before. Varric followed closely behind, humorously taunting Anders for having lost the game. Hawke and Fenris fell behind a little.

"So, Fenris, tell me what made you reconsider," Hawke prompted. "I'm grateful and everything, but for a moment there I thought we were going to have an argument."

Fenris considered this briefly, before a faint smile ghosted across his lips. "Well, Hawke, apart from the fact that you are a consummate pertinax asinus," he quipped, eliciting a laugh from Hawke; his voice then became quieter, and his expression pensive. "Something you said gave me pause."

"Oh, yes?"

Fenris nodded and stared at the ground as they walked along. "When you said that the creature should be allowed to decide his own fate, it occurred to me…" He glanced up at Hawke for a moment, and then once again looked at the ground. "When I was a slave, I never entertained any notions, any hopes, of ever escaping or of changing my lot in life. Being Danarius's slave was my life: I had resigned myself to my fate, Hawke, just as the saarebas has. And, although I am not entirely comfortable with interfering in Qunari affairs, perhaps there is a larger issue at stake, here."

Hawke smiled at Fenris in admiration, and then a frown formed as the elf's words sunk in. "You never…thought of escaping? Then how did you escape?"

"Danarius and I were travelling through Seheron one time, when we were attacked by Qunari rebels; such skirmishes are commonplace, as the rebels and the Imperium have fought over the island for centuries. I managed to get Danarius to a ship, but there was no room for a slave. I was left behind, and I barely managed to get out of the city alive."

"Was that when the…" Hawke began, but hesitated, not wanting to dredge up unpleasant memories for Fenris.

"Yes, Hawke, that was when the Fog Warriors took me in," Fenris said, his voice barely a whisper. "Up until that moment, I had never dreamed that another life was possible, that…" He fell quiet, and they slowed their pace, allowing the others to walk further ahead, and once again looked up at Hawke, but this time did not look away. "Had the rebels not attacked, I would still be a slave, and I never would have experienced any of…this," he said softly, glancing around the street.

"You mean picturesque Lowtown?" Hawke teased, hoping to lift Fenris's spirits a little.

"No, Hawke." Fenris shook his head and held Hawke's gaze. "That is not what I meant."

They shared a moment of silence, and Hawke stepped a little closer to Fenris, his breathing heavy as he ventured a quick glance around. He then brought his hand up to Fenris's cheek and gently ran his fingers down the elf's face, letting his hand rest on Fenris's chin.

"You know something, Fenris?" he whispered. "I think you're amazing."

A soft light came into Fenris's eyes, and he hung his head slightly, taking a deep breath, and neither man spoke for a moment.

"Hey, Hawke!" called Varric from up ahead. "Is this the place?"

Hawke moved his hand from Fenris's face and he groaned, his head falling back. "Now, whose stupid idea was it to bring them along, Fenris?"

"Ah…that was my idea, Hawke," Fenris conceded, and he flashed a radiant smile at Hawke, who laughed in return.

"We're coming, Varric," Hawke called over, sighing. "Yes, that's the place."

~o~O~o~

This time, Fenris did knock at the door, having first warned Anders and Bethany that a templar was inside. Ser Varnell opened the door, and the group were ushered in without a word. Anders took a moment to cast the templar a dirty look before he was dragged further inside by Hawke. Once the three newcomers laid eyes on the saarebas, the silence seemed to deepen as they stared mutely at it.

"Maker's breath!" Anders and Varric exclaimed as one, and Anders charged forward toward the creature, and spun around, his eyes flashing. "What have you bastards done to him?" he demanded of Petrice and Varnell.

While Petrice repeated her story, Bethany and Varric approached the creature and attempted to talk to him, with no success. Although Anders seemed wary of Petrice, and even more so of Varnell, he was eventually convinced of her concern for the creature, and urged Hawke to get going.

"We can't very well take him through the streets, can we?" Hawke stated and turned to Petrice. "How are we supposed to move him?"

Petrice moved behind the creature and uncovered a trapdoor in the floor. "There is a series of underground passageways that will take you out of the city," she began to explain, before she was interrupted by Fenris.

"No. This is too convenient. I do not like this, Hawke."

"Well, of course you don't like it," Anders piped up. "Anything that would lead to a mage gaining his freedom…"

"Fenris happens to agree with us, Anders," Hawke defended.

"He what?" A questioning look came into Anders's eyes, then, but he offered no apology. "Oh," he mumbled.

"I don't really see what choice we have, Fenris," Hawke said to the elf, and he looked at Petrice warily, having been put on the defensive by Fenris's suspicions. He walked over to the saarebas and explained what they intended to do. He then called Fenris over. "Can you ask him what his name is, Fenris?"

Fenris shook his head. "Qunari have no names, as you and I do, but designations: he is Saarebas."

"I have named the creature," Petrice announced, looking pleased with herself. "I call him Ketojan: a bridge between worlds."

"You demean the creature with your pidgin-Kossith," Fenris spat shortly. "He will not dignify your romantic drivel with an answer."

Forcing back a smile, Hawke looked up at the creature. "Saarebas, we are going to take you out of the city. This way, if you please."

"After me, Hawke," Fenris insisted, and pulled up the trapdoor. With a final dark look at Petrice, he lowered himself down, and was followed by the others.

~o~O~o~

The group journeyed through the underground tunnels and chambers, at all times keeping a safe distance from Sarebaas, as none of them knew what he was capable of. Their curiosity was soon sated, however, when they ran into a gang of thugs who attacked them without provocation. Saarebas not only fought alongside Hawke's group, but appeared to protect them on several occasions, proving himself to be a highly capable mage. Much to Hawke's annoyance and frustration, however, Sarebaas still refused to, or was unable to, answer any of his questions. Even an attempt by Fenris, speaking in the creature's native tongue, proved fruitless.

By the time they emerged from the tunnels, finding themselves somewhere on the coast, they determined from the position of the moon that it was well after midnight.

They had not gone far when Fenris, who led the group, held his hand up. They all came to a halt.

"What is it, Fenris?" Hawke asked as he caught up with the elf.

Fenris jerked his head forward, his expression grim. "His karataam."

Hawke squinted and looked ahead, barely able to discern a large group of Qunari up ahead. "What?" Hawke whispered. "What are they doing here? How did they know…?"

"Precisely," growled Fenris as the others also caught up. "Just how did they know?"

"Are you saying we've been set up?" Anders demanded.

"Looks like they've spotted us, Hawke," Varric said quietly as the Qunari began to walk in their direction. "I hope you've got your story straight."

"I will speak with them," Fenris volunteered, "although I am not optimistic."

"Basra Vashedan2," the leader of the karataam called out. "I am Arvaraad, and I claim possession of saarebas at your heel."

Fenris walked ahead and approached the karataam. "Arvaraadkost. Maraas shokra3."

Ignoring Fenris's greeting, Arvaraad pointed at Sarebaas. "The members of his karataam were killed by Tal'Vashoth," Arvaraad told Fenris, "but their disposal leads only here, to saarebas, and you."

"We've only just got here," Hawke said, stepping forward to stand at Fenris's side. "We had nothing to do with this. Do we look like we've just engaged Tal'Vashoth?"

"Irrelevant, Bas Sarebaas4," Arvaraad stated with a withering look at Hawke. "The crime is his freedom; his leash held by unknowing basra. We will not allow that danger to continue. Your kind may doom your own people; sarebaas will be properly confined." Arvaraad produced a long, yellow-metal rod, which he waved at Sarebaas.

"And what if he doesn't want to be confined?" Hawke asked, sounding much braver than he felt.

Arvaraad took a few steps forward. "Sarebaas! Show that your will remains bound to the Qun!" he commanded.

Immediately, Sarebaas dropped to one knee and lowered his head.

"He came quite willingly with us," Hawke argued.

"He has only followed you because he wants to be led," countered Arvaraad. "He is allowed no other purpose."

Doubt entered Hawke's thoughts for a moment as he held Arvaraad's gaze. Perhaps Fenris had been right: although Hawke strongly disagreed with the Qunari's stance on mages, did he have any right to interfere in the laws and customs of another race? In his peripheral vision he could see Anders, hopping from foot to foot: he would definitely have something to say if Hawke released Sarebaas to Arvaraad, but Hawke couldn't make his decision based on Anders's opinion, which was far from impartial. Hawke glanced at Fenris, hoping for guidance.

Sensing that Hawke was uncertain, Fenris stepped closer to him and whispered, "Whatever you decide to do, Hawke, I will stand at your side."

Hawke nodded, emboldened by Fenris's loyalty. "I'm sorry, Arvaraad. I believe this mage should be free to choose for himself."

"Oh, great," Varric was heard to mutter, and the clank of Bianca as it was hefted from his back echoed around the cove.

Arvaraad turned to face his men and uttered a guttural command, and then spun round, pointing his rod at Sarebaas, and a field of arcane energy surrounded the Qunari mage.

"You're using magic?" blustered Anders. "You're nothing but hypocrites, just like the bloody Templars!"

"Bas Sarebaas4!" yelled Arvaraad, his eyes flitting between Anders and Hawke as he readied his sword. "You spew your words at me like a demon trying to poison my control. Like this mage, the Qun requires your death!"

"Not while I draw breath!" Fenris vociferated, and, before Arvaraad could react, the elf's fist had penetrated his breastplate. A sickening crunch was heard as it surpassed bone, followed by a wet sucking sound as a heart was squeezed, and the Qunari slumped, dead, onto the sand. Crying out in rage and pain, Fenris's markings blazed intensely, and he advanced on the Qunari group, supported by Hawke and the others. Sarebaas, seemingly immobilised, could do nothing to help them.

Following a hard and protracted fight, during which Fenris valiantly defended his more vulnerable companions, the elf sank to his knees, exhausted and in severe pain. Hawke rushed over to him as the other three attempted, in vain, to communicate with Sarebaas.

"Fenris," Hawke said soothingly, kneeling down at his side. "Just take deep breaths. You'll be all right. You're not injured, are you? Please, you must tell me if you are."

Fenris shook his head and swallowed hard between gasps.

"Just take it easy," Hawke gently advised, stroking Fenris's back. "Take as much time as you need."

Hawke looked up as a shadow fell across them, to find Anders standing a few feet away. "Is he all right, Hawke?" he asked, taking a few tentative steps closer.

"He'll be fine in a minute," Hawke replied. "It's his markings."

Anders nodded, crouched down, and watched Fenris for a moment. "Fenris…I just wanted to thank you for what you did, there. I must say, I wouldn't have expected…" he exhaled and stood up. "Well, that was all I wanted to say. If it means anything."

"Thanks, Anders," Hawke answered. "It does." Anders gave a single nod and walked away from them. "What did I tell you, Fenris?" Hawke asked the elf. "You're amazing."

Fenris closed his eyes and shook his head, and then leaned on Hawke, who helped him to his feet. Slowly, they went over to the others, who all thanked Fenris for his bravery. Their attention then turned to Sarebaas, who was still immobilised by Arvaraad's magic. Hawke walked over to where Arvaraad's rod lay on the sand, and called Anders and Bethany over.

"Any ideas on how to use this?" he asked them, and both of them shook their heads. "I wonder if it's safe for me to touch?" he wondered. "Only one way to find out." Taking a deep breath, he reached for the rod, and, as he touched it, a bolt of sharp pain shot up his arm, and he instinctively dropped it.

The clanking of chains could be heard as Sarebaas, now freed, rose to his full height. "Hawke," warned Fenris, and he positioned himself in front of the creature.

Sarebaas walked over to Hawke, with Fenris at his side, and bowed. "You are now Basvaraad5, worthy of following," the creature said to Hawke. "I thank your intent, even if it was wrong." Sarebaas began to walk away from the group, and Hawke followed. "I know the will of Arvaraad. I must return as demanded. It is the wisdom of the Qun."

"Return where?" Hawke asked, not understanding.

"To the Qun," Fenris clarified, walking alongside Hawke. "He intends to end his life."

"But why?" Hawke implored. "You're free, now. You don't have to do this. Please…we went to a lot of trouble to bring you here. You have a choice."

"I have made my choice. It is the only choice. Asit tal-eb1," he said with a small bow to Fenris, who returned the gesture.

"What about Petrice?" Hawke asked, grasping at straws. "Perhaps she could take you back? Get you some help, I don't know…find others of your kind?" He briefly glanced at Fenris, who shook his head.

"The sister was not honest, as the elf suspected," Sarebaas told Hawke. "Her kind has no honour. Her kind does not know the Qun."

"Fenris," Hawke appealed, though he knew deep down he was not going to sway Sarebaas.

"He has made his choice, Hawke," answered Fenris with finality.

Hawke exhaled and his posture drooped. Fenris placed a hand on his arm.

"Take this secret thing, Basvaraad," Sarebaas said to Hawke, holding out a huge hand. Hawke extended his own and Sarebaas pressed something into Hawke's palm. "Remember this day."

Sarebaas then turned and walked towards the shore. Hawke went to follow him but was stopped as Fenris's hand gripped his arm tightly.

When Sarebaas was at a safe distance, Hawke watched in horror as the creature immolated himself and dropped to his knees; stoic and dignified to the end, no cries of pain or anguish came from him as flames licked up his body. A gasp was heard from behind as Bethany's hands covered her face, and Anders cried out, "No!"

"It-it was all for nothing," Hawke whispered, watching, stupefied, as Sarebaas was consumed.

"Not entirely," Fenris replied softly. "In the end, thanks to you, he chose his own fate."

"Did he?" Hawke asked, unblinkingly looking ahead. "Did he really?"

Fenris took Hawke by the arm and led him away from the shore, where they met the others.

"Let us depart," advised Fenris.

"Yes, let's," Anders agreed hotly. "That Chantry bitch has some explaining to do."

"And I'm kinda hungry," Varric piped up. "Anyone else hungry?"

"Not really, Varric," Bethany answered, shaking her head. "Not after that."

Varric groaned softly, and steered Bethany toward the cave through which they'd come. Anders walked alone, occupied with his thoughts. Fenris and Hawke followed closely behind, and Fenris laid a hand on the shoulder of the subdued Hawke as he opened his palm to find a simple amulet on a leather cord.

~o~

1 Asit tal-eb: 'It is the way things are'.

2 Basra Vashedan: 'Foreign (non-Qunari; literal: thing) trash'.

3 Arvaaradkost. Maraas shokra: 'Peace, Arvaarad. There is nothing to struggle against'.

4 Bas Saarebas: 'Foreign dangerous thing (mage).

5 Basvaarad: 'Foreign leash-holder'.