Author's note: So, not an inspired chapter. Lots and lots of exposition – in fact, about the entire plot of Mask of the Betrayer. Varric insisted he needed to hear it right now.


Safiya: Perform *success* : (7+ 0 = 7 vs. DC: 5)


Safiya took a moment to sort her thoughts into order, looking around the little room at the people gathered to listen to her. Hawke eager and curious, like Merrill; Varric with quill and paper propped against his knee; Isabela lounging against a wall in a pose that showed even more of her skin than usual; Fenris and Aveline rather more difficult to read, but waiting. Tarva sat upright beside her, pale and neutral.

If she had been lecturing her students at the Academy, where would she have begun? "What's your stance on other worlds?" Safiya asked.

"Other worlds?" Hawke repeated blankly.

"That's definitely a new one to me," Varric said. "Couldn't you have started with something more traditional, like 'once upon a time', or "no shit, there I was'?"

"Right," Safiya sighed. She had her work cut out for her. "Please don't interrupt, then; suspend your disbelief and hold your questions until the end of the lecture."

"Lecture?" Hawke grinned. Technically, both an interruption and a question.

"Story, if you prefer. I was a senior instructress at the Academy, and I am accustomed to referring to the oral presentation of information to a group of people a lecture. May I begin now?"

"Sorry, sorry," Hawke held up her hands. "Shutting up."

"Tarva and I come from a world that is not this one. Call it Toril. The largest continent on its face is known as Faerûn; Tarva comes from a land called Neverwinter and I from Thay. The two countries are very nearly on opposite side of the world, but they are both part of Faerûn. With me so far?"

-0-0-0-0-0-

Hawke was, but her mind had rather choked on the whole 'different world' bit. Possibly the bald woman was lying – but to what purpose? She didn't sound mad, either. She was impossible to dismiss and almost as difficult to believe. 'Suspend disbelief', indeed – more like hang it by the neck until it died, and leave it rotting on the gibbet.

"The people of Toril agnowledge the existence of... hmmm," Safiya paused for a moment, "ah, several hundred deities – gods and goddess and other divine things." So they were pantheistic, like the Dalish? Hawke didn't have any trouble accepting that, even if 'several hundred' seemed a little excessive, and she had to wonder exactly what qualified as a 'divine thing'. She stifled a mental image of people prostrating themselves in front of a deific boot... "Most choose one god to worship – for example, Tarva here serves Chauntea, a goddess of the earth and grain." Hawke shot a glance at the elf woman. The expressionless cast of the gaunt face made her skin crawl – she really did look more dead than alive. "Those who refuse to worship a god are condemned to torture and slow oblivion in the Wall of the Faithless.

"It started several centuries ako – er, ago – with Myrkul, who was at that time god of the dead – that is, he judged the souls of the dead - and his high priest Akachi." Something touched her face when she said that name, but it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. "Akachi was utterly loyal to his god, but he was also a man, and he was in love with a woman named Nefris."

Hawke peeked around at her friends. Merrill was enraptured, or course; Varric was too, in his own way. Aveline had that twitching look of slight impatience, the one that said 'You can start getting to the point any minute now', and Anders was reserving judgment until she did, and Fenris – Fenris was frowning slightly, but surprisingly intent.

"Nefris was the founder of the Academy of Shapers and Binders – a school for Red Wizards who were interested in specialising in the art of spirit manipulation. It's fascinating, absorbing, rewarding work, full of puzzles and –" Tarva coughed, just slightly; Safiya glanced at her. "Sorry. It can also be dangerous, particularly the high-end research Nefris was pursuing – the amount of magical energy she was handling was enormous, and the level of concentration necessary to manipulate it phenomenal. One day, at a crucial moment, her mind fogged and she lost control. The resulting magical backlash killed her."

"Mages!" Fenris muttered, barely audible; Safiya didn't seem to notice.

"Being a rational woman, not superstitious, she had never devoted herself to a god, and when she stood before Myrkul, in his grey City of Judgement, she was judged Faithless and sentenced to the Wall. And Akachi, her lover – he rebelled against the decree of his god. He raised an army to bring down the Wall and free her."

Brave man, Hawke thought, even the story did remind her a little of those Tevinter magisters again. Still, if you were going to invade the city of a deity, she supposed love was a better motive than power.

"There are ways the gods can be killed," Safiya continued, and Hawke blinked. "but... well, that just isn't one of them. It had all been Myrkul's plan from the beginning, you see. He clouded Nefris's mind at the crucial moment as a test of Akachi's loyalty, and the priest made his allegiance clear. When Akachi brought his army into the City of Judgement, Myrkul's forces followed. They pretended to chase Akachi, until he freed Nefris's soul from the Wall and sealed his treachery to their god – and then they took him."

For the first time, Safiya's voice faltered. "And Myrkul... Myrkul made a monstrosity of him. He sealed Akachi in the Wall, flesh and blood, to be broken and consumed, and when there was nothing left of him but a husk filled with the very hunger of the Wall... Myrkul pulled him out." She looked at Tarva; the elf shook her head very slightly.

"That was the beginning of the spirit-eater curse, the Hunger," Safiya told them. "It chose a host randomly. The host's soul was displaced and sent to fill Akachi's place in the Wall, while the insatiable Hunger drove its victim to devour spirits and souls. If the victim embraced the curse and fed at will, the spirit-eater took them over completely, and eventually killed them. If they fought it, denied it, it consumed them more quickly – but most went mad from the effort and succumbed all the same. Most often, in whichever host, it found its way to the land of Rashemen, which has many spirit guardians – a rich hunting ground."

"Wait just a moment," Hawke said, holding up her hand. "I'm not interrupting, but just wait a moment." She scurried out of the room and into the kitchen. It was not so far away that she couldn't hear Varric pouring out a stream of questions. He must have been understanding more than she was; Hawke had decided to treat it as another wild story, and hope it made sense in the end. Her mind was on more practical matters, anyway. The broth was just ready, and Safiya's voice was growing husky; both she and Tarva needed water. Hawke looked at the bowl she'd filled, the water glasses, the pitcher. Two trips, then.

"Hawke," Fenris's voice rumbled from behind her.

She turned and smiled at him. "Fenris. Perfect. Would you mind taking those glasses and the pitcher for me?"

They trailed back in; Safiya was looking rather harried as Varric and Merrill plied her with questions and Isabela inserted innuendos. "Here," Hawke said, and handed the broth to Tarva.

"Thank you," the elf said quietly – the first words Hawke had ever heard her say, and they were so soft she nearly missed them. Her hands curled like dead leaves around the bowl. Safiya expressed her own gratitude and drained her glass. "Hmmmm... where was I? I think I'll spare you Araman's role. Let us return to Nefris, then. She went back to the Academy –"

"Hang on a second, Baldy." Varric held up a hand. "She was dead."

Safiya glared at him. She really didn't like interruptions. "Which is not a major problem for a half-decent cleric, and some races just have the ability naturally. Back at the Academy, she began to plan a way to undo the spirit-eater curse and end Akachi's torment. It took her several hundred years – before you ask, yes, that's quite possible even for a human. As part of her plan, she split parts off her soul and embodied them as different people. It's a difficult process, but Nefris was mistress of the art."

Hawke was listening – really – but she was also keeping an eye on her patient. Tarva ate slowly and methodically, without any sign of appetite, which didn't surprise Hawke at all; but apparently the elf was wise enough to know that she needed it. An obedient patient was a nice change – all of her friends were absolutely terrible ones, and none of them worse than Anders, although Fenris and Aveline gave him pretty stiff competition.

She was also wondering just what this ancient tragic romance had to do with the two strangers who'd come through the Fade.

"To one part, thereafter known as Lienna, she gave her impartial curiosity, her imagination, her sense of wonder and theatrics. Lienna went to Rashemen to monitor the spirit-eater, and await the moment to act." Safiya took another drink. "To another, who also bore the name of Nefris, she gave her resolve and determination, her sense of duty, and the greater part of her magic and knowledge. Nefris held the Academy and made certain her older self – I'll refer to her as the Founder from now on – was left in peace to work. These three – Founder, Lienna and Nefris – knew the whole story, knew all the plan and what had to be done. But there was one more fragment."

"Ha!" Varric exclaimed, making Merrill – and actually Fenris, Hawke and Anders too – jump. "I bet I can guess what that one was called, Baldy."

"Then possibly you are smarter than you look, which would not be difficult. The last fragment was the Founder's re-creation, the best she could make, of the woman Akachi had fallen in love with, and was kept innocent of all that the Founder had planned. Nefris raised her as a daughter – in a sense, she was."

"And her name was Safiya," Varric said, with an air of great wisdom.

Hawke was never sure whether to be in awe or appalled by the logical jumps that dwarf could make.

Safiya narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes. If I may continue? Lienna managed to imprison the Hunger in the barrow of Okku, the bear-god, king of all the spirits in Rashemen, and there it waited while the Founder scryed Toril for a person of suitable integrity and strength to host the spirit-eater and survive long enough for her purposes."

Varric opened his mouth – to insert another smart comment, no doubt – and Tarva stared him down. Hawke was impressed; she'd never seen anyone except Aveline do that before. Varric shut his mouth, and the elf went back to her broth.

"Eventually she found what she was looking for, a veritable hero – but if I begin on the whole business with the King of Shadows, we'll be here until morning. I don't even know most of it." She cast another glace at Tarva, who returned it dispassionately. "As you seem to have surmised, Varric, it was Tarva the Founder chose. She waited for an opportune moment, then Nefris sent her servants through a magical portal to abduct her."

Merrill squeaked at 'magical portal'. Hawke eyed her dubiously, and Safiya was doing much the same thing. Isabela just patted her shoulder.

Well, it did seem that Safiya was approaching the point, now – at the very least, both of them were in the story now.

"Her servants dumped Tarva in the deepest part of Okku's barrow, where the Hunger took her and she became the spirit-eater – not that either of us knew anything of that at the time. Nefris sent me to guide her out, and we ran into Okku on the way, who said there was something very wrong with Tarva and tried to kill us both. He wasn't at his strongest, only just having just woken up from centuries asleep – or dead – and we defeated him easily."

"Wait – this is the god-bear again? I though a god was more difficult to kill?"

Safiya rolled her eyes, but answered Varric's question amiably enough. "Yes, it was, but we didn't kill him, we just ... dispersed him for a while. We travelled to Mulsantir, where Lienna was waiting to instruct us both – or so we believed." Safiya's eyes sparked with hate. "Another Red Wizard – one I knew - had beaten us there, and Lienna was dead. He claimed that Nefris was as well, that there had been a coup at the Academy. He also tried to kill us, but being the most worthless lump of troll sputum ever to bribe his way into graduating, failed. It left Tarva and I rather at a dead end – no pun intended. We could not even question Lienna's actors, because they were gone."

Safiya poured herself another glass of water. "Outside the theatre, we were confronted by three witches – the rulers of Rashemen – who told us that Okku was outside the c-gates screaming for blood, and they guessed it was our fault. We would not be allowed to speak to Lienna's troupe until we'd dealt with Okku – or, as they hoped, were killed by him. They did, however, allow us to find some people to help us. There was Kaelyn the Dove, a priestess of Ilmater – basically a healer," Safiya said, with a nod to Hawke. It gave Anders rather a 'hey, healer over here too!' look for a moment. "- for all that she carried a mace and wore full plate. She joined us because she thought we could help her with her Crusade to bring down the Wall of the Faithless – but more on that later. Much more. And in a jail cell, we met Gannayev-of-Dreams – " There was the faintest of sounds from Tarva, and although her narrow face still showed no expression, she was staring fixedly at her near-empty bowl. Safiya reached out to take her friend's hand. "That is, Gann. He'd annoyed the locals to the point they imprisoned him – not that it would have taken much, you understand. The hags prey on the Rashemi, and their half-breed sons aren't welcome anywhere."

"Another one, Baldy. When you say hags, you aren't talking about ugly old women, are you?"

"Yes, I am – but they're a race of very magical, very dangerous, ugly old women, who walk in dreams and take what they want. They also reproduce by seducing men and eating them alive afterwards."

Hawke's friends, each according to nature, made sounds of disgust and horror.

Safiya nodded grimly. "Hardly welcome neighbours. A daughter thus conceived grows into another hag, a son into a hagspawn, such as Gann; although he isn't exactly like most of his kind, being both reasonably intelligent and a dreamwalker. So, before we took a detour into hag biology... Yes. The four of us went forth and met Okku in battle." Safiya shook her head. "He'd brought an army of spirits with him, and until we slew them, he was invincible. Tarva held Okku, Gann and I dealt with the army, and Kaelyn healed us up. Okku surrendered and insisted that we kill him. Tarva refused. And that," the Red Wizard said slowly, "was when the Hunger woke. The form of the spirit-eater – think of an inky, malevolent cloud with tentacles – burst from Tarva and reached out to devour Okku." She looked at her friend, and Hawke could read the deep affection between them, and something that was nearly awe. "She fought it back down. You have no idea what that cost –"

Tarva shook her head. "Go on."

"Very well. In exchange for her mercy, Okku vowed to travel with us and free her of the curse. It gets a bit tangled from here, and most of our travels aren't really relevant-" Varric protested at that - " – so I'll summarise. Without Lienna's guidance, we wandered around Rashemen, picking up a clue here and another one here. Tarva began to recover some of Akachi's memories. Finally, we were directed to the magical portal Nefris had been using to visit with Lienna, and we used it to return to the Academy. Nefris had managed to seal a door and another portal for us before her death, and we passed through it." Safiya rubbed her tattooed scalp. "We found ourselves on Myrkul's corpse."

There had to be something wrong with that sentence.

"Wait," Varric said. "Dead god?"

"I told you it was possible. It's a much longer story, but yes, Myrkul was killed some centuries after Akachi's Crusade, and his post as god of the dead was taken by Kelemvor. Where was I? Yes. Imagine, if you will, the spine and four arms of a skeleton whose head is larger than this house, whose eyes burn with blue fire, and who hates you with all the weight of a god – a dead god, but he wasn't gone. It wasn't a comfortable interview. Myrkul enjoyed gloating, and he had plenty to gloat about. He told us almost everything – about Akachi and his punishment, and about the Hunger that Tarva bore. Including the fact that there was no cure. She would die of it, the curse would find a new victim, and her soul would rot in the Wall of the Faithless." Safiya half-shrugged, a restless, uneasy movement. "Unless... if she followed in Akachi's footsteps and led another Crusade, she might be able to get to her soul before it was too late, and cast out the spirit-eater to find some other victim." Safiya laughed suddenly. "And then Tarva woke the Hunger and put a final end to Myrkul."

"Now, that's poetic justice," Varric muttered approvingly.

"Exactly," Safiya said, with some satisfaction. "He had it – and more – coming. Well. We left that place, and reached the sanctum, where the Founder had been hiding and working for all those years. She filled in all the gaps that Myrkul had not – exactly who, or what, I was, for a start. But Myrkul had told her that the curse would end when Tarva reclaimed her soul, so we knew he'd lied to one of us." She shrugged again. "Either way, we had to assault the City of Judgement. The Founder told us where to find a Gate, and we left her.

"And the next day we crossed to the land of the dead to virtually declare war on the god of the dead. Kaelyn was ecstatic; the rest of us... weren't. The chances of any of us surviving a rebellion like that weren't good, but we had to try. At the city's gates, Kelemvor's defenders suggested to Tarva that she could join them instead. It was a very good offer," Safiya told them. "Don't commit suicide by opposing a god on his own territory, don't trust a dead god full of hatred and deceit, earn Kelemvor's gratitude – and make no mistake, as the current god of the dead, Kelemvor could have undone Myrkul's curse easily. Everybody would have been happy – well, almost everybody."

"But?" Varric asked. Either Safiya had grown resigned to the dwarf's interruptions, Hawke thought, or she was forgiving him for the sake of his clear enthusiasm.

"Kaelyn forced us to attack the city," the Red Wizard told him, almost spitting the words out. "I've never seen a more despicable piece of emotional blackmail, and I will never forgive her for it. Well. We ran around causing havoc and meeting with surprisingly little resistance, until Kelemvor sent word that he'd had enough; Tarva would be permitted to retrieve her soul." Safiya shook her head, her eyes distant. "You can't imagine the state we found it in – and even once we'd dragged it from the Wall, it wasn't over. This bit... I don't know." She turned to look at Tarva. "What happened, when you fell and wouldn't respond? Where you dreaming? Was that why Gann collapsed too?"

Tarva laid her empty bowl aside and was silent for a moment. She spoke slowly and reluctantly, weighing each word carefully. Safiya had commanded their attention, with the practiced ease of a teacher; the elf's voice, by contrast, was so soft and hesitant the effect was almost mesmeric. "The spirit-eater was still within my soul, and somehow, I went within to combat it. Manifestations of the Hunger were attacking, feeding on me. I had to stop them before they did any more damage. And then G-" her voice broke. Only the slightest fracture, only a moment's pause. "- he was there with me. We fought the Hunger back. Eventually we had it cornered in the deepest part of my soul. The Red Woman, Nefris – or Akachi's memory of her – she was there. Those mask pieces, Safiya... they were actually the last fragments of his soul. We used them to restore him to the man he had been."

"Oh," Safiya said, slowly, wondering. "So that's what they were."

Tarva nodded, and very loudly said nothing more.

Safiya took the hint and picked up the story. "Well, once Tarva and Gann had woken up, Kelemvor told us that justice demanded we would still be punished for our rebellion. Some of us, anyway - he simply returned Okku to Rashemen. Kaelyn he kept with him, and good riddance. He said that Gann, Tarva and I were to be exiled, and that, I suppose, is how we came to be here." She frowned. "But I don't understand how. Tarva, what happened? How did we leave the Fugue Plane?"

"And what were you doing physically in the Fade?" Hawke asked – that was the bit she really wanted to know, and they hadn't said a word about it.

Tarva closed her eyes. If her words had been painful before, now she sounded as though her mouth was full of briars. "Kelemvor teleported us outside his city, and we started to walk. He," – there was a particular emphasis on the pronoun... she had to be referring to Gann. She'd choked on his name before. "sensed a dream – a very strong one. He rushed towards it. We crossed some sort of border. He collapsed, wouldn't respond. Safiya was only a moment behind, and when she crossed over, she collapsed too. I don't know why I didn't." She took a shaky breath. "I don't think we were still in the Fugue Plane, although I could see the City of Judgement in the sky above us. Even the light had changed – all green and yellow instead of grey."

Hawke stared at the elf. That sounded like the Fade, complete to the Black City in the sky, even if she called it differently. Was the elf seriously suggesting The Fade led somewhere?

"I slung your arm over my shoulder, Safiya, and his, and tried to drag you both. But you and the armour were so heavy, and I had no strength. I don't think I managed more than a couple of steps before the ground quaked, and I stumbled. I lost my grip, and I fell through a hole in the world. I realised a moment later that I'd managed to keep you and I'd lost him, and that I was somewhere else, and there were people, and the hole was gone –"

Hawke couldn't take listening to that painful recitation for one moment longer. " – which is when we found you. We'll find him too."

Tarva's eyes opened, dark and haunted, fixed on Hawke. She said only, "Thank you."

"Hawke..." Anders said softly, "I don't think distance means anything in the Fade. It could have spat him out anywhere – Kirkwall, the Deep Roads, Nevarra, Ferelden."

She glared at him. That wasn't something that had needed saying right then.

"I could ask Justice to help," he suggested tentatively.

"No," Hawke vetoed the suggestion immediately. "You know how I feel about that demon."

"He's not exactly a-"

"I said no." She rose to pick up Tarva's bowl, and eyed the elf professionally. "That's probably enough for now – I doubt you'd be able to keep anything more down. Could you sleep?"

Safiya laughed, a weary, half-bitter sound. "We were fighting the Crusade today. We're both exhausted. I could sleep for a week, and I don't think Tarva's slept properly for days."

"Then that's probably best," Hawke said, and stood to shoo her friends out of the room.

Varric paused in the doorway. "Just out of interest, Paragon, falling for the guy – when exactly did that happen?"

"Varric!" Hawke very nearly slapped him.

Tarva just looked up, her face set like stone. "I cannot say. But it wasn't until the Academy that I knew."

Hawke shoved him away, and apologised for her friend's tactlessness.

"What?" Varric asked, when they'd regrouped in the library, leaving the strangers alone. "You can't tell me you weren't wondering the same thing."

"Which thing?" Aveline asked. "I have several questions myself. Are they telling the truth? Are they dangerous? What do we do with them?"

"I believe them," Hawke said instantly, "probably not, and help. In that order."

"Yeah, but you're a sucker for a sob story, Hawke," Varric said. "I could talk you out of your last copper without even trying."

"Maybe," she admitted, "but that doesn't mean they're lying. What could they possibly gain from spinning a tale like this? Surely if they wanted something they'd make up something that made more sense – I mean, dead gods and curses and split souls and crusades and walls!"

Varric grinned. "You know, I thought I was good. I couldn't have invented half of that."

"So it's actually true," Hawke nodded, although she knew it only half-proved her point, if it did that much.

"They could be putting you off-guard," Fenris said, staring at the empty fireplace. "They are in your home, Hawke."

"You think they're a threat?" Hawke laughed. "In her current state, I doubt Tarva could manage the stairs without falling on her face."

"And the mage?" Fenris pressed.

"I don't know what a Red Wizard is, but whatever she means by that, she isn't a mage." Hawke cast a glance at Anders and Merrill – not that their opinions would convince Fenris at all. "Right?"

"You're closer to being a mage than Safiya is," Anders told him.

"But Fenris isn't a mage at all!" Merrill protested.

"That was his point, Kitten."

"Oh."

"She might have some other way of working magic," Fenris said. "Something foreign, something you cannot detect or guard against."

"That would be wonderful!" Hawke found herself smiling at the possibility. "I'll ask her about it tomorrow."

Fenris turned away, muttering something in Arcanum that Hawke had heard often enough to tentatively translate as 'stubborn idiot'.

"But it would be, Fenris. A form of magic that didn't have anything to do with the Fade wouldn't attract demons. I wonder if she could teach me."

"They left an awful lot out of that story," Isabela spoke up. "Not just all the boring bits, like 'and then we all brushed our teeth', but actual important stuff."

"Nice spot, Rivaini."

Aveline stared at Hawke with her patented Aveline 'no nonsense and don't you dare try to wriggle out of this' look. "Hawke, is there actually any point talking about this? Will you listen to advice at all?"

"Probably not," Hawke answered cheerfully. "They need me, Aveline. I can help them. But as usual, it's entirely up to you guys just how much you want to get involved in this particular wild nug chase."

"I am with you, Hawke." Fenris said, his green eyes looking straight into hers. She felt lighter, suddenly.

"Couldn't pay me a... moderate amount to miss it," Varric declared. "I want the whole tale. It'll make me famous, Hawke. Well, famous-er."

"There's no such word, my trusty dwarf," she laughed.

"There will be soon. I might use it for a title."

"Me too," Isabela said.

"You're going to use 'Famous-er' for a title too?" Merrill asked.

"I'm going to get into that lovely red skirt, that's what I'm going to do," the pirate told her.

"I don't think it would fit you." Merrill pondered this a moment. "And I don't think Safiya looked like the kind of person who likes to share her clothes with other people."

Isabela hugged the little elf. "Kitten, you are a thing of beauty and a joy forever."

Merrill looked over the pirate's shoulder at Hawke, her eyes wide and a little sad. "And you don't want me to help, do you?"

"Have you given up blood magic?"

"Hawke, it's –"

"Merrill."

"No."

"Then I don't want you," Hawke said. She hated doing that to Merrill, who was by far the nicest and most harmless blood mage she'd ever met, but her stance was clear: as long as the Dalish was involved in blood magic, they didn't work together. She still considered Merrill a friend, and sometimes even took her outside the city, but she loathed blood magic. It was bad enough being an apostate and keeping company with Anders without being caught with an actual maleficar in the midst of her grisly business. She had her mother to look after.

Speaking of apostates... "Anders?"

"Things are busy at the moment, Hawke," the blonde mage said, running a hand over his hair. "That sickness in Darktown looks right on the verge of becoming an epidemic. I don't have a lot of free time. Will you still be coming in to help?"

"As if I'd miss my lessons," Hawke retorted. "I may be a little late tomorrow, though, given my guests. Aveline?"

"Somebody has to keep you out of mischief, Hawke." The captain sighed. "This is going to play havoc with my rosters, though."

"Rearrange them, Lady Man-hands," Isabela sighed. " Really, what's the point of being the captain if you can't take advantage once in a while? Speaking of taking advantage, I noticed you looking out your window the other day."

"I always supervise training," Aveline said.

"I'm sure. And you always stare at one particular guard. His shirt off, all sweaty and shiny. Handling his great, big, stiff sword -"

"Shut up, whore!"

"Ooh, temper, temper," she waggled her finger in front of Aveline's face. "That won't help you with your little problem, you know. Although I don't know if I'd call it a little problem... have you seen the size of his feet? No matter what they say, it is a good indicator- "

Aveline was about one breath away from punching Isabela when Hawke intervened. "While we're all here and Mother's out – anybody for Diamondback?"

"Not me," Aveline said. "I should get back to the barracks. Early patrol tomorrow."

"Will you walk me back?" Merrill asked the guard. "I lost my twine – actually, I think a kitten stole it, and I wish she'd stopped to chat. There's a lot of mice in my house, unless they're rats, and I think she'd like them better than twine."

"Merrill, the Alienage isn't anywhere n-" Aveline sighed. "Come on, then."

"Good night, everyone," Merrill said cheerfully, although there was still something wistful in her eyes.

" Good night, Hawke, Varric, Fenris, Anders," Aveline said.

Isabela donned an exaggerated pout. "Leaving me out? I may just cry myself to sleep."

"Good," Aveline said, and they left Hawke to a game of Diamondback that wasn't nearly as interesting as the mystery her two guests presented.