A/N: At some point, the Duenna's speech patterns became my grandma's speech patterns, so even though she throws out the odd Spanish word, she strikes me as pretty damned Italian. I figure Antiva must be close to Tevinter, so that doesn't bother me overmuch. (I know that the languages of Thedas can't be exactly the same as ours, but I still equate them to ours when I haven't got evidence of otherwise, like Qunari, Dalish, and Dwarven. I think of Antiva as Spain, Orlais as France, the Anderfels as Germany/Austria, Tevinter as Italy, Nevarra as Egypt, and Rivain as Hungary/Romania. It's partly random.)

Maric came down to the breakfast table the next morning in a bright, sunshiny mood, whistling. He caught sight of Loghain's face and did a double-take.

"Maker's breath, who socked you?" he asked.

"Coat rack," Loghain said, and turned his attention back to his sausages. His right eye was black and blue and swollen almost completely shut. Maric looked at Loghain, then at the hat stand he could see clearly through the parlor door, and then back to Loghain. He drew up a chair and sat down.

"Ten thousand Chevaliers can't lay a glove on you, and you get beat up by a coat rack?" he said. Loghain grunted.

"Coat rack was a better fighter."

"You know, you really ought to put some ice on that," Maric said.

"I asked the Duenna for some. She gave me a very blank stare. That was when I realized for the first time, truthfully, that I am in Antiva…where they do not know what ice is."

Maric ate his eggs and toast. When he finished he reached into his pack and pulled out a folded map.

"Here. Figured you'd want a look at this."

Loghain shoved his plate aside and spread the map out on the tabletop. He weighted down the edges with his unused spoon and knife. The map showed the whole of Antiva, and was ornately decorated with local flora and fauna. Loghain glanced at it and sighed. "Do you have any six-inch maps?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Six-inch maps. Six inches-to-the-mile maps. Survey Ordinance maps. Up-close, personal, highly-detailed area maps of the specific region we're searching?"

"Well no, I don't have anything like that. I've never known you to need any such thing before," Maric said.

"That's because I know Fereldan," Loghain said. "I can look at a map of her and tell you anything you want to know about any part of her. But I've never been out of Fereldan before - a streak I would have quite happily left unbroken, thank you - and I know Antiva not at all. This map is very pretty but it tells me nothing of intrinsic value."

"I don't even know where to get a six-inch map," Maric said, baffled. Loghain sighed.

The Duenna came in with more sausage, eggs, and toast for both men. Loghain looked up at her and asked, "Pardon me, but you wouldn't happen to have any six-inch Survey Ordinance maps of the region laying about somewhere, would you, Ma'am?"

She looked at him for a moment, hand on her hip, then jerked her head. "Follow."

Maric looked at Loghain and Loghain looked at Maric. Maric shrugged, and both men rose to follow the Madam into the parlor, where a tall bookcase stood against the back wall, behind two couches on which lounged young women. "Usually, I not show this to anyone not associated with me," she said, "but you are the friend of my darling Maric so I make exception this time. Just no snooping, or I cut you balls off, comprende?"

She reached for the shelves and tilted a red leather-bound volume. With a well-oiled whoosh, the bookcase parted into two sections, revealing a hidden room. The real bookshelves were here, stacked high with legal ledgers and books on political reform and military strategy. Maps covered every wall and available surface, or spilled out of umbrella stands.

"Andraste's ass," Maric said. "It's like stepping into your study, Loghain."

The Duenna pulled a huge atlas from a low shelf and plonked it down on the desk. "You find what you look for in here," she said. "Remember what I say, and don't snoop."

"I am bursting with curiosity, Madam, but for the sake of gratitude and self-preservation, you have my word: no snooping," Loghain said.

"Good man. You read you maps; I bring you breakfast in here."

Loghain and Maric walked back to the city later that evening. Maric let Loghain take the lead, and followed the man as he navigated unerringly the winding, tortuous, poorly-marked streets of the sprawling Antiva City. His time closeted with the Duenna's maps seemed to have paid off.

"Why can't people use a little foresight when settling a region?" Loghain said as they walked. "How difficult is it to think that if a settlement takes root it is going to grow, and to plan accordingly? A nice, even grid plan, wide streets…it would make dealing with a congested population so much easier."

"I'll bring it up next time I found a city," Maric said.

"You realize, I hope, that your Duenna is some sort of spy?" Loghain said.

"She's not my Duenna. But yes, I guess she must be."

"We'll have to watch her. If she knows or figures out that you are Maric Theirin, Ferelden national security could be greatly compromised. Not to mention your own, personal security."

"I'm surprised you didn't immediately insist upon rooming elsewhere."

"People like her can be useful, if you manage not to get played."

"So where are we heading?" Maric said.

"The Hall of History. Perhaps one of the scholars there can help us narrow down our searching parameters."

"The Hall of what?" Maric asked. Loghain sighed.

"You've been here for weeks, Maric. You found the whorehouses but missed the museums?"

"Hey, I don't have your head for maps. I scouted the city but I felt a trifle over-exposed without my aegis, so I sent for you and waited."

"Well thank the Maker I'm here now," Loghain said. "With a little luck, we may get this quest of yours finished sometime before the Age ends."