Chapter 47

"Elgar'nan had defeated his father, the sun, and all was covered in darkness. Pleased with himself, Elgar'nan sought to console his mother, the earth, by replacing all that the sun had destroyed. But the earth knew that without the sun, nothing could grow. She whispered to Elgar'nan this truth, and pleaded with him to release his father, but Elgar'nan's pride was great, and his vengeance was terrible, and he refused.

It was at this moment that Mythal walked out of the sea of the Earth's tears and onto the land. She placed her hand on Elgar'nan's brow, and at her touch he grew calm and knew that his anger had led him astray. Humbled, Elgar'nan went to the place where the sun was buried and spoke to him. Elgar'nan said he would release the sun if the sun promised to be gentle and to return to the earth each night. The sun, feeling remorse at what he had done, agreed.

And so the sun rose again in the sky, and shone his golden light upon the earth. Elgar'nan and Mythal, with the help of the earth and the sun, brought back to life all the wondrous things that the sun had destroyed, and they grew and thrived. And that night, when the sun had gone to sleep, Mythal gathered the glowing earth around his bed, and formed it into a sphere to be placed in the sky, a pale reflection of the sun's true glory."

—from The Tale of Mythal's Touch, as told by Keeper Gisharel of the Ralaferin clan of the Dalish

Malcolm

Malcolm stared into the dark line of the trees where Líadan and Emrys had gone. "That was weird, even for them." Then he supposed it wasn't, because everything he'd witnessed between grandfather and granddaughter had moments like this, trust and mistrust mixed up with a strange, fitful sort of honesty.

"Was it?" Morrigan asked, gazing in the same direction as Malcolm. "Líadan only once mentioned her grandfather during the Blight, and that was in passing. She did not indicate that he was alive. From what I have witnessed thus far, I see that it was a deliberate choice."

"He threatened to tear me limb from limb," said Malcolm.

"And you were surprised at this?"

Having given up on seeing or hearing either Líadan or Emrys, Malcolm stopped searching in favor of scowling at Morrigan. "No, to be honest. What did surprise me was how much he went into detail, even after Líadan had told him not to threaten me."

"Then you should count yourself lucky that he has not done so, given what has occurred."

"He isn't entirely without culpability."

"So I have gathered."

They fell into quiet as they waited, unwilling to discuss anything else in detail while they both were preoccupied with actively wondering what Emrys had been on about with regards to the Creators. But when Líadan returned, visibly shaken, Emrys was not with her.

"Anything you wish to share?" Morrigan asked.

Líadan shook her head, slowly at first, and then with more vehemence. "Not specifics, no. But I will say that I'm now very happy I chose Mythal over Andruil."

"Your words only leave me curious," said Morrigan.

Líadan gestured toward the aravels. "You know which one belongs to Emrys. Feel free to ask him yourself."

Morrigan did not break eye contact as she gracefully rose to her feet. "Perhaps I shall." Then she strode into the aravels without waiting for a reply.

"I didn't think she'd call my bluff," Líadan said as she watched Morrigan walk away.

"Well, you know Morrigan and mysteries." He did his best to mimic Morrigan, poor imitation that it was. "She 'cannot abide them.' And so she solves them. With force, if necessary. Not so coincidentally, she requires the use of force quite often."

"Just with you." Líadan bumped his shoulders with hers as she sat down next to him. "The rest of us are smart enough to answer instead of trying to play games. Emrys, however. He might be a challenge for her. In the end, I think he'll tell her, if only to see her reaction."

Admittedly, Malcolm had become curious at this point. "Should I be pressing you for more information?" As if to prove that he could, he scooted closer to her, occupying all empty space between them.

"No. I'll… I'll tell you soon. I just need to process it. If you can't wait that long, then you can follow Morrigan and ask Emrys, too."

"No way. He hates me enough as it is."

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "He doesn't hate you."

"All right, fine. He actively dislikes me enough as it is. How was that?"

He felt her smile through his shirt and cloak before she lifted her head. "Better. But you will have to talk to him about what we're going to do for Ava."

"And so will you, the two of you not discussing your sword aside." Malcolm turned his head enough to peer down at her. "Have you discussed it?"

"We've said what needed to be said."

"You haven't said anything."

"Exactly."

He started to object, but she placed a finger on his lips to quiet him. "I don't need to hear anything about having to talk to him tomorrow. I know. I'm the one who told you. Some things, people, specifically, I'm willing to talk to him about. One of those people is Ava, so I will speak with him. Otherwise, we've nothing to say to each other." She slowly drew her finger down over his lips and then rested it lightly on his chin. "I also have plenty to say to you, but not in so many words. Let's go to bed."

"But I'm not even tired, and I—"

"I didn't say anything about sleep."

Malcolm didn't think about Emrys again until the next morning, when he left his tent to find Emrys sitting at the banked fire. It had been children's voices that'd woken Malcolm, and those children were pelting question after question at Emrys, and he volleyed them back with impressive precision, saying much yet answering nothing.

Then Nuala loudly took stock of the children's varying states of cleanliness—or lack thereof—and declared that baths would be in order.

Malcolm agreed, since the children would be free of dirt and grime for at least a couple hours afterward, and because he'd have the chance to interrogate Emrys, as much as one could expect to interrogate , it ended up being turned the other way around, but he had to try.

After Líadan had shot him a look of warning, she and Nuala herded the children toward the tubs of water Lanaya and Oisín kept warmed for the clan so that everyone could bathe without shivering. Kennard stayed behind, satisfied that the children would be under no danger accompanied by both women while in an encampment guarded by the Dalish. He seemed to do his best to pretend not to hear anything in Malcolm's conversation with Emrys, and was largely successful, probably due to his practice. Kennard had heard a lot over his years of service, and not once had he repeated any of those things, which was one reason of many why Malcolm and the rest of his family continued to put such great trust in him.

"What's your plan?" Malcolm asked Emrys as he began to heat up water for tea over the fire. Líadan tended to abstain from tea of all kinds while staying in a Dalish camp, but Malcolm saw no reason to avoid it for himself. He'd grown to like Dalish tea, and hadn't turned down Lanaya's offer of some.

"Pardon?" asked Emrys.

"Your plan? Last time I stayed with this clan, Keeper Lanaya mentioned that you were going to found a city."

With agonizing calm, Emrys finally looked at Malcolm. "Are you genuinely interested or is this an effort at small talk?" His question held the faintest bite, just the right amount to sound perturbed.

Malcolm ignored it. If he heeded every warning about Emrys' moods, he'd never get any information from the ancient Keeper, ever. "Curiosity. Oh, and because I've a stake in it at this point. And by 'stake' I mean 'child' and you happen to be the only person who can teach her."

For a moment, Emrys was silent. It was torture for Malcolm both because Emrys in silence was dangerous, and because the problem with tea was waiting for it to steep long enough. This morning, it made Emrys' dangerous silence even longer.

Then Emrys said, "A city is not possible. The rumors sprang from hopes among the People, as they tend to do when I travel the forests of the extreme south or west."

"You don't want to found a city?"

"I want to reunite the clans."

Malcolm poured his tea through the strainer and into his mug, which meant he now had to wait for it to cool enough that it wouldn't burn his mouth. It was nearly as horrible a wait as steeping it. "They don't exactly get along," he said once he'd finished pouring.

"No? I hadn't noticed."

Malcolm stared at him. "I didn't know you had a sense of humor."

"You were not allowed to see it."

He wasn't sure if he should be proud or frightened that Emrys had chosen to reveal a new—to him—facet of himself. Likely the latter, which meant he dismissed the comment and pressed onward. "Is uniting the clans feasible? From what I've seen, I'm guessing it'll be like herding cats that are actively hissing and spitting at each other while clawing at you at the same time."

"Cats?"

Malcolm squinted. Sure, Emrys and his clan tended to live on the outskirts of civilization, only traveling inward when absolutely necessary, but the elf was, if he was to believe the stories, literally ages old. He had to know what a sodding cat was. However, one could never be absolutely sure with Emrys. "Oh, come on. You know what a cat is."

"If you don't," he heard Merrill say from behind him, "I'll introduce you to Ser Pounce, Keeper."

Emrys raised his eyebrows. "Ser Pounce?"

"Ser Pounce-a-Lot. He's Anders' cat. Well, my cat, now, I suppose. I've been taking care of him since he was a kitten, so maybe he was more mine all along." Merrill sat down next to Malcolm and made eyes at his tea. Malcolm held it out of her reach. If she wanted tea, she could make her own. She frowned at him and he ignored it, so she turned back to Emrys. "Anders named him. He isn't a real knight, since I haven't had the chance to ask a real king or queen to knight him, but that's his name. He'd like to meet you, I'm sure. He likes people. Wouldn't want you to meet your first cat and have it be one of the ones from the alleys."

"He knows what a cat is," Líadan said as she walked into the camp, Morrigan next to her, both with their hair still damp. "Why are you even talking about cats in the first place?"

Though Líadan had asked Malcolm and Merrill, Emrys answered the question. "I wish to reunite the clans."

A short, derisive laugh escaped Líadan before she could stop it. "Would you also like to negotiate peace between Tevinter and the Qunari, or is reuniting the clans the only exceedingly idealistic and impossible task you wish to do?"

Emrys pursed his lips and crossed his arms, appearing more mortal than Malcolm had ever personally seen with him. "There has proven to be more discord between the clans than I had anticipated, I will admit. The unification will have to be set aside for the time being, and not only because of the difficulty of the endeavor. The eluvian must be researched further and made to work again. The elves in what they claim is Arlathan are hiding, and I will not allow them to continue doing so. Then I would speak with them. I have many questions and they will have answers."

To Malcolm, it sounded more like it would be an interrogation rather than a friendly conversation from the tone of Emrys' words, and vehement enough that he wasn't willing to question it, even in jest. Líadan had seated herself next to Malcolm, but offered no commentary regarding her grandfather's new goals. She did, however, steal his tea. Because she stole it, he didn't bother telling her it was Dalish tea. Served her right.

Others present were not so easily turned aside. "They said Fen'Harel roams the Beyond," said Merrill. "And that they didn't want to risk a link between them and him."

"No, they certainly would not. Soon enough, it will not be their choice." Emrys did not explain further, cutting off questions with challenging glares to whoever seemed likely to ask. Once he was reassured that there would be no questions, he moved on. "My clan is camped a half day away. When matters have concluded here, the Suriel will be departing for the Tirashan, as will the Ra'asiel." He looked directly at Morrigan. "You and your son are invited to accompany us, if you wish."

"I must decline," said Morrigan. "My plans for the future do not lie with the Dalish."

Her statement had Malcolm wondering what in the Void those plans could be since she hadn't been back on Thedas all that long, but Emrys didn't seem to care. He simply nodded, and then settled his gaze on Líadan. "As your daughter requires a proper teacher, you and your children are welcome to join us."

Líadan jumped to her feet, fresh hurt welling up in anger. "This again? After—"

Emrys held up a hand, the gesture itself stunning Líadan into silence. Then he spoke before Líadan could gather enough outrage to start again. "I wasn't done. Your human bondmate may accompany us, but I cannot guarantee his acceptance by the Suriel. Keeper Lanaya has agreed to extend an invitation for you to remain amongst the Ra'asiel as our two clans travel together and once we establish our camps in the far west."

Malcolm's gaze flicked between Líadan and Emrys, shocked into quiet himself at hearing the grudging invitation. It was what they'd needed weeks ago, and it was an offer made far too late. "Cáel can't go. It isn't a choice anymore. He has to stay in Ferelden. With Dane and Callum being mages, Cáel's the only heir Ferelden has left."

"'Twould seem Lanaya's prediction was correct," Morrigan said after a moment, her tone contemplative, with no hint of irritation regarding Cáel's fate. "And if so, Cáel cannot be thrown into the role as Alistair was, uneducated and unprepared."

"Exactly," said Malcolm. "He doesn't have to be in Denerim, necessarily, but Ferelden in the very least." The unique education requirements for each of his children were at odds, with Cáel restricted by the need of a country to have its heir remain within its borders, and Ava's only teacher insisting on remaining outside those borders, along with every other human settlement on Thedas. They were left without a middle ground, perhaps literally, but he wasn't going to give in again. Not when the first time had yielded such awful results. He glanced up at Líadan, who'd yet to sit down, but her attention was solely on Emrys.

Anger had yet to abandon her, having found its focus on her grandfather. "You will compromise," she said in a tone laboring to remain even, almost cracking under the strain to keep it there. "You will. Apologies only go so far. Now it's time for you to act like you truly wish to make amends. I will not short either of my children of the education they need, and I will not allow my family to be broken apart. Not by anyone, and certainly not by you."

"I cannot—"

"Find a way! You will find a way! I won't let you do this again. I won't!" Her voice snapped under the tension, shouting what was meant to be a strongly-worded request. Líadan's eyes widened, mortified at the loss of control in front of her grandfather. She looked out into the forest, searching for a path leading to composure. When she turned to Emrys and spoke again, her voice was back under the strained, tenuous control from before. "Find a way."

Instead of objecting, Emrys went silent, his indication that he was considering alternatives. It was a step. A small step, to be sure, but progress nonetheless.

"She is no longer compromised, correct?" Morrigan asked Líadan. "That is what Cianán told me. He said he told you the same."

Líadan nodded and briefly looked like she was going to sit down. Then she changed her mind and began to pace around the small camp. "He mentioned that he could help."

"Indeed." Morrigan's shoulders straightened, as if taking pride in her son's accomplishments. Though she'd never admit it, she probably was. "He has informed me that he's been successful in teaching her to protect herself from demons." She turned to Emrys. "Her need for specialized instruction is not so dire as before, yes?"

Emrys acknowledged her with a scant nod. "True. I had taken note of it as I walked the Beyond last night. She learned quickly, once given proper instruction. Perhaps she will not require constant specialized teaching, yet she will require teaching regarding all kinds of magic, not only the Dreaming."

Merrill brightened as she turned to Líadan. "You've a Keeper among the Wardens, haven't you?" She didn't bother waiting for an answer. "Keeper Perran could instruct her. Bethany, too. She's a good teacher. Very patient. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"She'd probably like it," said Malcolm.

"Perhaps your daughter would only need instruction from me for part of the year," Emrys said to Líadan. "A single season each year spent studying with me, among the Suriel."

Tension had yet to leave Líadan's body. Emrys' new offering served to strengthen it, not lessen it. "A season separated is still separated," she said, her feet digging into the ground. "Months of separation. The last one was merely weeks. Weeks! And this is where it got us. No. Do better."

Emrys sighed, a deliberate choice to illustrate his weariness for them. Then he leaned forward, catching Líadan's gaze and holding it. "What is it you wish, then? I will not keep flailing about in the dark when a light can be summoned."

Malcolm had expected Líadan's answer to be a while in coming, that she would have to sort through all her scattered emotions and needs before she could find the right one. But her hesitation was only long enough for the fight to briefly leave her body, her limbs momentarily relaxing as she looked over at Malcolm. A faint smile appeared, part relief and part tiredness and parts of many other emotions, and then it was gone as she tore her gaze from Malcolm and returned it to Emrys. "To go home," she said. "I want to go home."

"Then why the arguing?" Emrys asked, slightly exasperated. "If you already wanted—"

"Because my home isn't where you think it is." She took a step toward him, knocking aside his reply before he could give it. "It isn't where I thought it was. Even before the Mahariel died, it wasn't with them anymore. As much as I care for this clan, it isn't here with them. It certainly isn't with you or your clan." Her voice became thready, as if realizing the truth as she said it out loud. "My home is Ferelden, specifically Highever, and even more specifically, in Highever with my bondmate and our children."

Emrys immediately glared at Malcolm, as if this was his doing, but switched back to Líadan before Malcolm could react. "Is it?" His question held no threat, yet felt as if it should have carried one.

Líadan crossed her arms, ready for Emrys' challenge. "Are you surprised?" The threadiness had vanished in the strength of her certainty.

The challenge never came. Emrys sat back, taking measure of his granddaughter and her convictions. "No. Saddened, perhaps. But not surprised."

"Good. Because you shouldn't be. You're part of the reason the Dalish aren't anymore, and you know why."

Malcolm hesitated to interrupt them when they were actually speaking to each other somewhat productively, but he'd gotten an idea for a compromise that might suit all parties involved. Well, Emrys might complain, but Líadan had him on the making amends thing. He'd have to meet them more than halfway.

Then a sudden, hostile silence smothered the argument, and he had no qualms about breaking it. "My brother's lands have vast areas of largely unused forest," he said. "Enough that it could hold three or four large Dalish clans with no humans the wiser, which means it could easily hide two clans. I'm sure Fergus wouldn't have any objections, and summers in Highever don't sound bad at all." It sounded rather nice, actually. And he realized that he wanted to go home, too. Even though it wasn't summer, it would still be Highever, and just thinking about it calmed him.

Emrys stood, declining to engage with Líadan further, and turned to Malcolm. "If the space you claim your brother can provide is adequate, both in distance and area, I will agree to the arrangement."

"It is," said Malcolm.

"Good." Emrys switched back to Líadan. "After matters have been tied up here, we will meet you in Highever to finalize the arrangements for your daughter's instruction. Then my clan and Keeper Lanaya's clan will continue on to the Tirashan."

Merrill hopped to her feet before Emrys could walk away. "I would like to go with you, Keeper," she said, and then paused as if struck by doubt. "If your offer is still open to me."

If Malcolm hadn't been looking directly at Emrys, he would've missed the fleeting, grateful smile that could've been his imagination. "It is. You shall become my First, as it should be."

Both Malcolm and Merrill looked toward Líadan, but the pain they expected to see in her eyes wasn't there. It was happiness as she smiled at Merrill for the choice she'd finally made.

"If you are to join us," Emrys said to Merrill, choosing business over another attempt to prevail over the tumultuous relationship between himself and his granddaughter, "then we must retrieve your eluvian from Kirkwall. I will leave now for my clan, and the Suriel will be here at dawn. Then both clans will head for Kirkwall—to retrieve the eluvian, and to take the last of the belongings of the Mahariel from the foot of Sundermount. Their graves must not be further desecrated. We will need to clear everything, leaving only their trees behind."

After securing nods from both Merrill and Líadan, Emrys left.

True to his word, he and the Suriel were outside the Ra'asiel camp at dawn, waiting for the Ra'asiel to finish their own preparations to move the entire encampment's aravels. They did so swiftly, Cáel, Ava, and Cianán watching from their ponies, murmuring about how impressed they were. Then Lanaya's clan was ready and moving, a few hunters trailing behind to cover any signs that the Dalish had ever been there.

They traveled swiftly, with few breaks, only slowing once they approached Sundermount's snowy valley, just outside where the Veil began to weaken. They stopped while Lanaya and Emrys conferenced with Oisín and Merrill on how they would go about cleaning up the last of the Mahariel camp. Morrigan flew in, landed next to a nearby tree, and returned to her human form. Yet, she didn't directly engage the other mages, instead opting to lean against the tree and listen.

"It's not safe," Merrill said. "You don't understand how dangerous it is." It was a protest she'd lodged many times the day before, and even on the journey that morning, but Emrys had yet to give in.

"I believe you," he said to her. "However, it is a task that must not be left undone. With two Keepers and two Firsts, I believe we can ensure the safety of the site long enough to take the remaining belongings of the Mahariel from this place."

Morrigan stepped forward from where she watched. "I would lend my aid."

Emrys nodded. "Help from the daughter of Asha'belannar is always welcome."

Ariane appeared with designated hunters, and they began to plan in earnest. While Líadan aided in the planning, Malcolm kept out of it, content to let the Dalish do what they needed to aid their grieving for the Mahariel. It unfortunately left him to answer the brunt of the children's unending questions, but they all had to make sacrifices.

Eventually, the clans and their aravels got moving again, Malcolm riding close behind Líadan, who in turn rode close to Lanaya's aravel. When they could see the snow-covered clearing through the thinning trees, they halted the aravels. Everyone either dismounted from horses or jumped from aravels and headed for the clearing. After exchanging a silent look with Malcolm, one that was a discussion all its own, Líadan loped ahead with Ariane, Panowen, and Cammen. Revas trotted after them.

The hunters were the first to see looters walking out of the former Mahariel camp, arms full of their spoils.

Arrows flew from Dalish bows and into the humans' chests. Each human went down, their prizes and drops of bright red blood scattered around them.

"And it's gone to shit already," Nuala said from behind Malcolm.

"Went there quicker than I figured," said Kennard.

On either side of Malcolm, his children gasped at the coldness of the hunters' actions. Both of them moved closer to him and slowed to a walk.

They'd witnessed the Dalish hunters they'd come to trust killing humans in cold blood.

Cianán kept quiet, yet he did look to his mother for reassurance.

Nathaniel, standing next to Morrigan, yet somehow still separate, said, "They're Dalish," which was really of no help whatsoever.

"You will soon understand," Morrigan told Cianán after she spared a second to glare at Nathaniel. While Cianán seemed to take comfort in Morrigan's take on the matter, Malcolm did not, yet he understood the Dalish as well as any human was able.

What he wasn't able to do was properly explain this side of the Dalish to his children. They hadn't known. He hadn't told them. Maybe he'd hoped that he'd never have a need, but he should've known better. When he glanced down at Ava and Cáel, he could see the question in their eyes: if the hunters could kill humans like they just did, would they turn on them? Malcolm had no platitudes that would reassure either of them. Like them, he wasn't Dalish, so his answer wouldn't be genuine enough to be believable.

Then Keeper Emrys paused in his walk forward, paused long enough to tell the children, "Our hunters would never hurt you." Before anyone could react, because Keeper Emrys was the last elf anyone would ever have expected to reassure human children, he was gone, catching up to the hunters converging on the human bodies.

After Nuala took the hands of Cáel and Ava, Malcolm quickened his own pace, fighting a sudden, sharp anxiety that had lurked within him for years while he'd thought it dead and gone.

During the time in which he and Líadan had searched for Morrigan together, she'd eventually told him about the events of the morning that'd led her to becoming tainted. She'd been telling him to get him to truly understand how she'd changed from the person she'd been that day, and he'd thought he'd understood it. He knew how much she'd changed, however much he hadn't wanted to face the fact that she'd been just like the Dalish elves that human children heard terrifying stories about from their evil elder siblings.

"When I first met you… you and Alistair were shemlen, and Zevran was just another flat-ear. You weren't even the first strangers that Tamlen and I had seen that day. I never told you how we found those ruins."

Malcolm had assumed she and Tamlen had stumbled on the cave. His assumption had been horribly wrong.

"Three human men…they claimed they found the ruins, even gave us something they'd stolen."

Her mouth had twisted in disgust then, a dark reminder of who she'd been before the tainted eluvian changed everything. A gnawing pit of dread had formed within him then, and as he hurried to catch up with the hunters and the Keepers and Firsts, the same worry gnawed at him once more.

"What happened?" Even though he truly hadn't want to hear it, even though he'd already known what the answer would be, he'd still asked.

"They claimed they were running from a demon. Huge, with black eyes."

"So, you got the information from the humans and went to the ruin?"

"No."

"You—"

"We killed them."

"All three of them?"

"Yes."

They'd argued, after that. He kept trying to understand but never could, not at that most basic level of existing in a world where the majority of the population would kill you if you did or said the smallest of wrong things. That even if the humans she and Tamlen had run across hadn't threatened them overtly, they were still a threat, merely because they knew about the presence of the Mahariel. Because there was always the chance they'd run to the Chantry and tell the templars about a Dalish clan and demons, and the templars would assume the worst—a blood mage. And then they would hunt down the clan, because that was the way of the world.

He'd reassured himself that Líadan had changed; she'd even told him as much, which had been the point of her telling him the story, to illustrate how she had changed. And in the years since, she'd changed a great deal more—she'd bonded with him, a human. She had two human children, one she'd adopted, and one she'd borne herself. And now her vallaslin were smaller, reminders of where she had come from rather than declarations of who and what she was.

Yet, the fear that somehow, under the apparent truth in all that change, the possibility existed that maybe she hadn't changed enough. That when pressed to extremes, she would revert to the instinct that had kept her and her clan alive when she'd been one of them. It was wrong to think so, and he knew it was wrong, but he couldn't shake the irrational fear. It nipped at his heels as he finally joined the elves in the clearing and searched the crowd for Líadan, his Dalish wife. Bondmate, as she and her people called it. His height made the search easy for him, since he was taller than any of the elves by half a head or more.

He found her in the middle of the field, within a knot of people who led the clans in various ways. All the mages were there: Lanaya, Emrys, Oisín, Merrill. Then there were the lead hunters, Ariane and Panowen, and two Suriel elves Malcolm vaguely recognized. Cammen stood with them as well, another representative of the last of the Mahariel. And between Ariane and Merrill stood Líadan.

Her quiver held as many arrows as it had before the looters had been shot.

Relief washed through him. Her first instinct hadn't been to kill the humans, as it had proven to be with a fair amount of the other Dalish hunters, as it had proven to be for her years ago, before she became a Grey Warden. Then he felt ashamed that he'd let his irrational fear get to him enough to doubt her.

Several more humans bolted from the destroyed Dalish camp, shouting about demons and trees and more demons. Then they staggered and skidded to a stop, startled at finding the dead bodies of the rest of their party, and then even more startled to find the elves who'd killed them standing ready to kill them, too. They did not, however, drop any of their bounty.

Líadan, her instincts apparently having not entirely vanished, noticed this even as she aimed a nocked and drawn arrow at them. "You've been grave robbing," she said in a voice that Malcolm imagined might have been hers before she'd met him, before she went into that cave with Tamlen, before, when she'd hated humans and killed them with impunity.

"What?" asked one of the humans.

"You've been robbing the graves of my clan." Even after weeks without proper practice, weeks of being prevented from any sort of physical training and conditioning, Líadan's arms and hands did not tremble as she continued to hold her bow at nearly full draw, like she was driven by the same energy that accompanied battle.

"Only graves I know are in Nevarra," said a second looter. "And those are in mausoleums, I was taught."

"Heard they're like cities," said a third.

"Of the dead," said a fourth.

"Either way," said the first after he'd given the rest looks to shut up, "it's obvious there aren't any of those back there."

"Don't play dumb." Then Líadan pulled her bowstring to full draw, with Ariane, Panowen, Cammen and the rest of the hunters following her example.

Keeper Lanaya exchanged a troubled look with Keeper Emrys. He inclined his head toward her, as if telling her that she deal with it.

Taking into consideration how Líadan was likely to do the direct opposite of anything Emrys asked of her, it was a good call, so long as their plans were to diffuse the situation instead of escalate.

"Stop," Keeper Lanaya said as she made her way past the hunters in the front. "Lower your bows," she said once she'd placed herself between the elves and the humans. While the humans might believe her to be putting herself in danger to protect them from other elves, she wasn't really. The scouts providing overwatch for the clans would keep their bows drawn and ready in case any of the humans got any ideas about harming the Keeper.

Líadan narrowed her eyes, fingers flexing on the grip of her bow as if she wasn't going to follow the Keeper's order. It was a response out of place for her with regards to any Dalish Keeper who wasn't Emrys, yet the possibility hung there.

The rest of the elves immediately present looked worriedly between the Keeper and Líadan, both not wanting to disobey a Keeper, yet not wanting to leave a fellow hunter open and exposed.

Lanaya never let Líadan break eye contact, speaking evenly when she said, "Consider that they may not truly know what they have done. Most humans hold pyres and scatter ashes. They do not have many recognizable graves. They do not know our ways. They would not know that a living clan would not leave a trace that they were ever here, that only dead clans leave signs of their passage. The most they might know are the great trees of the Emerald Graves, and there are none here that match them."

"Not yet," Merrill said, her voice quieter than Lanaya's, but no less strong.

Líadan didn't shift her gaze away from the looters.

Merrill moved close enough to stand at Líadan's side. "We aren't the same people we were with them," she said, never raising her voice. "They've left this world for the Beyond, lethallan. I was exiled, my place as First to Keeper Marethari taken from me. Now, I am First to another Keeper in another clan. You're not the same person who hunted with Tamlen and came across three humans in a forest, nor are you the same person who had to leave the clan afterward. You're a Grey Warden. You're a protector now." Merrill's eyes briefly darted to Cáel and Ava, who'd caught up to Malcolm and stood beside him again. "You're mother to two children whom the you of long ago would never have accepted, and yet you do."

The conflict in Líadan's eyes retreated as she slowly lessened the tension on her bowstring, and just as slowly lowered the bow itself. Then she looked at the waiting humans and jerked her chin toward the trail that led to the Wounded Coast. "Go," she said. "Go, before I change my mind."

They began a slight shuffle toward it, but Lanaya intercepted them. "Leave behind whatever you took. While we will excuse your ignorance, we will not allow you to profit from it."

Her declarations brought immediate objections, to which she put a swift halt. "I will not intervene a second time."

The humans instantly dropped almost everything and headed for the trail. One woman's path brought her precipitously close to Líadan, who discovered that the woman held something against her chest, partially hidden by her cloak.

"What do you have there?" Líadan asked, with threat and curiosity both.

The woman paused, a slight shake in the movements of her hands as she revealed what she'd stolen—a carved halla, horns intact. It was a trinket one wouldn't think worth risking a life over, and yet this woman was. It wouldn't even bring that much coin in the market, especially not compared to any of the other items on the ground that would.

Líadan's tone lost some of its harshness. "Why?"

It took the woman a long moment to look Líadan in the eye. "My daughter, she… she likes little carvings. Soldiers, knights, golems, horses, griffons, dragons, all sorts of things. But she doesn't have a halla. I thought she'd like it, and I don't know where else I'd find one like this."

Líadan glanced over at Ava, her rounded human ears hidden under the hood she'd raised to keep warm, and Ava offered a shy smile. She returned it, and then turned back to the human woman. "Keep it," she told her in a gentle voice. "But always remember it was Ilen Mahariel who carved it."

"I'll remember." The woman tucked the halla back under her cloak. "Thank you." She even sounded like she meant it.

Líadan nodded. Then Ariane motioned for the woman to leave. She quickly caught up with the other humans, and then was gone.

The hand Líadan was not using to hold onto her bow trembled as she watched them go. Merrill reached for Líadan's hand with her own, and only when Líadan accepted it did the trembling stop—for both of them.