The first elven ruin was a dud. They found a few treasures, including a remarkably preserved suit of light armor that had to be more than a thousand years old. They left it where it was, since they could not carry it with them, but Loghain made a note of its location. If they got the chance, they'd tell the scholars at the museum about it. It deserved to be put on display. There was, however, no mirror, and nothing hidden by magical means.

They rested, and discussed their findings over a meal of roast rabbit. Githa sat close by Loghain's side with her arm linked through his elbow and Maric sat across the fire and smirked at his old friend.

"I refuse to be self-conscious about this, Maric," Loghain said. "You're wasting a perfectly good facial expression."

Maric laughed at him. "What treasures did you find today, Githa?" he asked.

"Nothing much. I found a little idol I think is cute." She reached into her belt pouch and pulled out a small statuette, a female figure with spindly wings. "I don't know what it represents. Maybe one of the Dalish gods."

"The Creators," Maric said. "It probably is. What do you say, Loghain?"

"What, I admit my mother was Dalish and that automatically makes me an authority? I know nothing about elven gods, but it seems likely enough to me seeing as it was an elven ruin. The only thing I know about the Dalish is their arrow craft. It's the only thing about her past my mother taught me."

"That's kind of sad."

"In what way?" Loghain asked.

"She didn't teach you about your ancestors. Your family. Did you ever even meet your grandparents?"

"No, and not my father's family, either. But he was about the age I am now when I was born, so they were all probably dead."

"But your mother was young, right? It's too bad that she kept you isolated from your family."

"How do you know it was her idea?" Loghain asked. "The Dalish go far out of the way to avoid human kind. My father was a human man. He loved my mother and she loved him, but I doubt that makes much difference in the way they looked at the matter. I expect they viewed my birth with as much shame as most humans view half-bloods. She gave up her life as a Dalish - as an elf, truthfully. Kept herself almost a prisoner in our home to keep the townsfolk from finding out I wasn't pure human. She chose my father over her people. I'm not naïve enough to think she wasn't forced to make a choice."

"That's sad," Githa said. "Forced to choose between the family you love and the man you'd love to make a family with."

"She made a lot of sacrifices for my sake. Ultimately she made the ultimate sacrifice for me."

"She was protecting you when she was killed," Maric said.

Loghain nodded somberly.

"How old were you?"

Loghain swallowed hard. "Twelve."

Githa looked from one to the other of them. "I probably shouldn't ask, but…what happened?"

"The Orlesians happened. The details I'd really rather not get into," Loghain said.

"You didn't mind telling Rowan," Maric pointed out.

"Rowan deserved to get shocked. Githa doesn't."

"You'll forgive me, I'm sure…are the Orlesians really that bad?" Githa asked. "I mean, as a group. Surely they wouldn't all…I'm assuming murder…a woman protecting her child?"

Maric and Loghain shared a look. "You grew up in the Circle, you don't remember your parents or anything about the outside world," Maric said.

"There may be Orlesians who wouldn't murder a mother," Loghain said. "I've never met one. Their culture makes it acceptable for the upper classes to do anything they want to the lower classes, and I mean anything. Murder, torture…rape. They believe they're the Chosen of the Maker, and that's what gives them the right to behave monstrously. And nothing is lower class, to an Orlesian, than a Ferelden freeholder. We were less than garbage to them."

"Well, their abuses created their own worst nightmare," Maric said. "Loghain has become a bogeyman in Orlais. Parents use stories of him to frighten their children into behaving themselves."

"Whereas in Ferelden parents use the Orlesians to the same end," Loghain said.

"Have you ever been to Orlais?" Githa asked.

"Loghain won't let me," Maric said, "and he won't go himself. Probably for the best. Ferelden couldn't afford the diplomatic catastrophe that would undoubtedly create."

"You in Orlais is a man with a target painted on his head," Loghain said. "Me in Orlais is indescribable violence and death."

"And he's not talking about his death, either," Maric said to Githa, with a wink.

They moved on to the second ruin the next day. Maric had great hopes for this ruin, which was the largest and most complete of the three. Loghain, too, was hopeful. He walked hand-in-hand with Githa and tried to ignore that strange back-of-the-neck feeling that they were being closely observed.

"If this forest weren't so creepy, this would be nice," Githa said.

"Oh, I disagree," Maric said. "I think it is nice. Pleasant weather…love in bloom. The definition of nice."

"You're not going to let up, are you?" Loghain said.

"Not when it's so adorable. I maybe shouldn't say it: there's a girl in Ferelden I was thinking of for you, but hey! You found one for yourself. Can't argue with that."

"How fortunate that I was able to forestall your pitiable attempts at matchmaking."

They reached the ruin, and picked their way into the crumbling interior. Loghain cut the pad of his left thumb and Githa used the blood to perform the elven ritual that would hopefully reveal the hiding place of Maric's mirror.

"There's something here," she said excitedly. "This way."

She led the way deeper into the ruin, and stopped at intervals to perform the ritual again. They wound their way down far below the surface structure to what appeared to be a natural cavern beneath the deepest roots of the tallest trees of the forest. A final performance of the ritual revealed it at last: a tall, graceful mirror in a gold wood frame, a mirror that did not reflect the chamber.

Maric started toward it. Nervous, Loghain followed. "Don't get too close to that damned thing, Maric."

"This has been here since before the fall of the Imperium," Maric said, enrapt. "Look at it, Loghain. It's absolutely pristine."

"Magic does that, Maric. Magic does scarier things, too. Don't go near it."

"Have to. I have to activate it. For the Wilder witch."

"Just wait. Let Githa check it, first. It was hidden magically; who's to say they didn't booby trap it magically?"

"Guys?" Githa said. Her voice sounded breathless and panicked. Loghain turned to look at her.

There was a wicked sharp knife at her throat. A pair of black eyes sparkled at him over her shoulder.

"Move, and the woman dies."