She didn't want to go to the Chantry tonight. The Void take her if she missed helping the only other mage she'd had a conversation with besides her family, but the challenges that she'd had today made yesterday seem like a walk in the park. She had dark thoughts on what the rest of the night had in store for her.
Carver mentioned that the Amell estate was the new base for slavers in Kirkwall. They didn't anticipate how large a base it was. The four of them must have killed at least twenty slavers. Carver had taken a sword just below his ribs. Varric had taken a direct blast of ice from the slaver mage. And Aveline had taken a thrown dagger in the leg and had nearly bled out before Kattin could heal her.
The will they obtained showed that everything Grandmother and Grandfather owned had been intended for Mother. When she and Carver returned home, Mother and Uncle Gamlen had been arguing again, this time about money. The revelation of the will had made Mother happy that her parents had forgiven her but had caused Gamlen to cower. When confronted by Kattrin, he informed her that at least he'd gotten the money. Her mother had taken up her place in front of the fireplace and spoke of how she wanted to share this with all her children. How much she missed Bethany and all she could think about was the horrible monster that had taken her from them.
Carver had been Carver, but he'd made the knife in her heart go deeper by telling her that she could have saved Bethany from the ogre. She had agreed with him, to Carver's surprise.
Kattrin ached, body, heart, mind and soul. Her body and mind ached from the battle and the casting of so many spells. Her heart and soul still bled from the loss of her sister, so kind and sweet, and the only mage friend Kattrin had ever had.
Finishing her drink, she wearily she stood from their table and Carver, Varric, and Aveline mimicked her. Varric paid their tab and they left the Hanged Man. Strangely, they didn't meet any thugs or brigands before they reached the long stairs. Together, they ascended from Lowtown to Hightown.
Hightown was also empty and quiet. There was no friendly banter. No banter at all, really. They were all on alert for Templars, observing the streets as they progressed. Only Aveline dared to break the silence as she greeted fellow guards as they made their way to the Chantry.
Kattrin spotted Anders at the top of the stairs leading to the Chantry. He waited until they reached him before quietly saying, "I saw Karl go inside a few minutes ago. No Templars so far. Are you ready?"
Trying not to sound as nervous as she felt, she said, "Yes. I didn't see anyone suspicious out here. Let's do this fast."
The Chantry doors were large, gaudy gold things but they swung open easily and silently. The foyer had hundreds of candles to either side, stinking of tallow regardless of the burning incense. The flames danced as the doors shut. She felt both awe and disgust at the grandeur of Kirkwall's Chantry. The Chantry at Lothering could have fit inside thrice over. At the end of the room, on a raised dais and standing three or four stories tall, was the largest gold statue of Andraste that Kattrin had ever seen. But, even with the largess, the Chantry was the house of the Maker and she offered a mute prayer for Him to watch over them.
The Chantry was empty and there were no signs of Templars. Feeling jumpy, she looked at Anders to take the lead but he stayed behind her, looking at nothing while clenching his jaw and rubbing the back of his neck. Kattrin touched his shoulder to get his attention but this caused him to start. She looked at her other companions but they just looked grim and determined. She wondered briefly if this was something dark that only mages picked up on. Shaking herself mentally, she led the five of them further into the Chantry and up the stairs to the right.
Turning right from the landing she saw a lone figure with grey hair and wearing grey robes standing with his back to them. Anders moved ahead of the group but before he could reach him, the man in the robes spoke. "Anders. I know you too well. I knew you would never give up." His voice was deadpan, empty.
Anders voice rose in pitch, asking, "What's wrong? Why are you talking like—"
The man, Karl, turned to face Anders and all Kattrin could see was the Chantry's sunburst on his forehead, like an angry, red eye. All sound ceased to reach her and the rest of the world fell away, leaving the symbol of the Rite of Tranquility to fill her vision. Her heart and breathing stilled as she became entombed in eternity with her greatest fear.
The moment passed, returning Kattrin to the present, as Karl continued speaking. "I was too rebellious. Like you. The Templars knew that I had to be… made an example of."
"No!" That single denial from Anders lips was sorrow and loss delivered in sound.
Karl continued, immune to Anders devastation. "How else will mage's ever master themselves? You'll understand, Anders. As soon as the Templars teach you to control yourself."
Kattrin's heart began pounding as she heard the distinct sound of men in full plate. Eyes wide, palms sweating she turned to see three Templars approaching them. She looked at Carver and found that he was looking at her grimly. Everything they had done for her whole life was all for naught if the Templars caught her now, especially if she was found in the company of another apostate. She would get the brand for sure, just like Karl. No. She reached for her staff. The Templars weren't going to take her without a fight. Carver was thinking the same thing, hand angled over his shoulder gripping his sword.
Karl gestured to Anders. "This is the apostate."
Kattrin's skin tingled as she strongly felt the Fade. She saw a flash of blue light but wasn't sure where it originated. She was busy watching the Templars advance on them.
"NO!" The shouted denial drew her attention away from the Templars to see Anders on his knees, holding his head and shaking. She knew that the Templars were still approaching but she couldn't take her eyes off of Anders. She didn't think it possible but her sense of the Fade grew even stronger and she could almost see the Fade radiating off of Anders. Then, brilliant blue light exploded from Anders, cracking his skin. He stood, sweeping his arms behind him and glaring at the Templars. When he spoke, it wasn't his voice but a stronger version of the reverberating voice that she had heard in the clinic upon meeting him.
"You will never take another mage as you took him!"
Kattrin's attention shifted to the attacking Templars. One of them launched himself at her but before she could retreat Carver was there, yelling about how they did things in Fereldan as he attacked. She focused on the battle, sending ice at this Templar, a fireball to the two Templar archers out of the melee, healing Varric when he wasn't able to fully dodge the Templars blade. She knew that Anders was fighting the Templars but only because of the additional spells being cast.
More Templars showed up, running into the fray. One of the Templars broke away from Aveline and Carver and attempted to hit Kattrin with his shield. She spun away from him but she wasn't fast enough. When the Templar failed to connect with his shield, he swung out with his sword and sliced through the flesh of her shoulder. She gasped at the pain and dropped her staff. She tried to summon ice to immobilize the Templar but her spell failed to take form. Maker save her. This was her second fight today and she was exhausted. Concentrating, she tried to call the ice spell again but it just wouldn't come. She suddenly realized that she could barely sense the Fade, let alone draw any energy from it.
Varric was too far away from her and Aveline and Carver each had two Templars to contend with. She had no idea where Anders was. She sent a silent apology to Carver and calmly closed her eyes, waiting for the end.
Kattrin heard the crackle of lightning as it raised the hair on her arms and the small of her neck. She opened her eyes to see the Templar sprawled on the ground, his armor charred and smoking. Anders was looking at her and she noticed that his eyes were blue glowing orbs flashing as brightly as the blue light cracking through his skin. That eerie, reverberating voice said, "Do not falter, mage. The Templars will feel justice this day."
She continued to stand there, trying to staunch the flow of bleeding from her arm, stunned.
Suddenly, the fight was over. All of the Templars who attacked were dead. Varric seemed to have avoided additional harm but Aveline was bleeding from several places and favoring her shield arm and Carver was holding his hand to his left side.
"I—Anders, what did you do?" Karl asked. He sounded panicked, not vacant. "It's like… you brought a piece of the Fade into this world. I had already forgotten what that feels like."
Anders was no longer glowing as he stood looking at his friend. His eyes were shiny with unshed tears.
Kattrin was stunned at seeing a Tranquil panic. She couldn't stop herself from questioning this miracle. "But you're Tranquil. I thought that the Tranquil were cut off from the Fade forever."
"When you're Tranquil, you never think of your life before. But it's like the Fade itself is inside Anders. Burning like a sun."
Kattrin had noticed that herself but she didn't understand how it affected the Tranquil. She was also too tired to give it any real consideration. Later, she would need to look into this further.
Karl became agitated. "Please, kill me before I forget again. I don't know how you brought it back but it's fading."
"Karl, no—" Anders choked.
Kattrin looked at Anders. His eyes still glistened. Her heart broke for both Anders and Karl. She didn't understand what they had had together but it was obvious they were very close. But if it were her she would beg Anders, or anyone, to kill her too. Being made Tranquil was her greatest fear. Anders was a mage. Surely he felt the same way?
"Do as he asks," she said softly. "I would rather die than be made Tranquil. Help him."
"I got here too late. I'm sorry, Karl. I'm so sorry." Anders appeared to wilt. He sagged and a single tear escaped, running down his cheek to disappear into his stubble.
"Now! It's fading…," he cried. Then his voice changed, becoming empty once more. "Why do you look at me like that?"
Taking a deep, pained breath, Anders drew a knife from his belt. He stepped close to Karl, almost touching chest to chest. "Goodbye," Anders said. The steel and resolve in his voice hurt Kattrin more than his sadness. Anders then drove his knife upward through Karl's ribs, to his heart. Karl gasped as he died.
Anders turned to her. She was surprised to see that except for his hand, he had no blood on him. "We should go before more Templars come," he said. Then he turned from her and started towards the Chantry's exit. Letting go of her injured arm, she bent to retrieve her staff from the floor.
Standing, she saw that Anders was already at the stairs. "Anders, wait," she called. He paused, standing at the top of the stairs, looking toward the door. "Can you heal Aveline and Carver?" She had no choice in her request. Her connection to the Fade was still there but it was hard to draw energy from it. She might be able to heal some bruises, but sealing flesh was beyond her in her current state.
He nodded and made his way to Aveline. She was so disconnected that she could barely feel him draw on the Fade as soft blue light of healing encircled Aveline. Anders stepped around the dead Templars to reach Carver and repeat the process. The healing seemed to restore Anders from the cold, resolute man who killed his friend to the mage she met in the clinic in Darktown.
Carver glared at her as they left the Chantry but he didn't say anything. Varric said that killing Templars makes him thirsty and invited everyone for a drink at the Hanged Man. Carver said that he could do with some drinking but Aveline said that she had duty in a few hours and would needed what little sleep she could get. Anders didn't speak. Kattrin was too tired to deal with the Hanged Man and said nothing. Aveline set off towards the Viscount's Keep and the barracks within. Carver and Varric headed toward the stairs leading to Lowtown. This left her and Anders standing in the Chantry courtyard, near the Chanter's board.
Anders turned to her. He was about a hand taller than her and thin, but his broad shoulders and muscular arms weren't hidden by his robes or his feathered pauldrons. He cut a handsome figure.
"Let me walk you home," he said. She nodded her ascent and they moved away from the Chanter's board.
They walked in silence. Anders was lost in his thoughts and Kattrin was too tired to hold a conversation. She didn't want to intrude on his sorrow but she also didn't want to think about his Tranquil friend. It hit too close to home.
Instead, she found herself enjoying the cool, gentle breeze, the expanse of glittering stars above, and the peaceful quiet. She had pleasant company for once. Well, maybe not exactly pleasant but certainly not unpleasant. If Carver hadn't gone off to the Hanged Man, she was sure that he would be yelling at her, arguing with her, or just complaining. The healer was the opposite with his calming presence. He seemed to be a gentle soul, compassionate towards others. And he was handsome. She found herself being drawn to him. She knew that part of his pull on her was just simply his being a mage but she wondered if maybe there was something more between them.
Exiting Hightown, she found herself looking at him more frequently. The night air had a replenishing effect on her and she found herself wondering about his connection to the Fade. As a Spirit healer herself, she knew that the Fade contained more than just demons. Her father had little to teach her in regards to Spirit healing itself, but he had taught her that mages with her talent were able to call other spirits to their aid in healing someone. Mostly spirits of compassion due to the virtue they embodied. But he had cautioned her to always be on her guard. Demons could appear to be anyone and would pretend to be helpful. Did Anders have a connection to a spirit? A demon? She was ignorant to some aspects of magic due to growing up as an apostate. Her father had been a Circle mage and taught both her and Bethany everything he knew. But he had told Kattrin he wondered sometimes if they would benefit from Circle training, especially Kattrin, because her magic talent differed from his own. He didn't want that for his children, but he had explained to her that he had many different teachers in the Circle and wondered at their education at his hands. Maybe Anders could teach her more about being a Spirit healer?
Lost in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed when he stopped in the empty market. He cleared his throat, gaining her attention. He was watching her with his small smile, making her blush and fluster.
"I… I'm sorry, I was just thinking," she stammered. "I guess you're waiting for me to show you the way. It's not like you've been to my home before. Not that I don't want you to visit." Okay, she was going to shut up now.
He continued to smile at her, his eyes dancing with merriment. Her breath caught. He was stunning with his warm brown eyes and crooked smile standing there in the empty Lowtown market under the starlight. As she continued to stare, he arched an eyebrow. "Did I grow another head? Perhaps a third eye?"
Now she was blushing straight down to her toes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to stare. I live over this way." She turned quickly and started walking before really looking and ran her injured shoulder into a merchant's cart. She hissed in pain and suddenly Anders was at her back, turning her around to face him. He gently wrapped both of his hands around her elbow and forearm while he examined where the Templar's sword caught her shoulder.
"This is a deep cut. Why didn't you say anything?"
She looked at him, her face a mere handsbreath from his. His handsome face filled her vision. She tried twice before she could speak. "I asked you to heal Carver and Aveline because I couldn't at the time. I forgot about my own injury. But I would have healed it myself once my strength returned."
There was a click as he clenched his jaw and gave her a disapproving frown. Then he sighed, softly releasing her arm and stepping away from her. "I can't heal you here. Follow me to my clinic."
It wasn't a question but more of a pleading command. Now that she had re-opened her injury it hurt like the Void. She felt blood begin to trickle down her arm and even though she might have regained enough mana to heal it herself, she had questions for Anders. She followed him.
Leading her into and through Darktown, he never took his eyes off her for very long. The concern written on his face every time he looked at her made her heart flutter. She knew that it was because of him being a healer, but she found his concern and gentle demeanor irresistible.
When they arrived at the dead end demarking his clinic, he used the tiniest bit of magic to relight the lantern. Grasping her lightly by her uninjured arm, he led her into the clinic and onto a cot before closing the door.
As he began rooting around for a clean rag and some water, she looked around the clinic. There was debris pushed to the walls of the structure with crates and barrels placed where ever they wouldn't be in the way. She hadn't noticed before but the entire clinic was spotless, no signs of dirt or mold or rats, and it smelled of fresh herbs. There were four small windows set high in the wall showing brief scenes of stars. Below the windows were planters filled with herbs and she recognized elfroot from where she sat. If he was growing elfroot, surely he was growing deep mushrooms as well? Ah, yes, he was; in the corner of the building, furthest away from any light, sat a planter with white and grey mushroom tops.
He returned to her then, sitting on a low stool in front of the cot she occupied. He had a clean rag in a bowl of steaming water at his feet. He examined her shoulder with the lightest of touches. Then he looked her over. "We're going to have to remove your armor."
Sighing, she started by awkwardly using her other hand to undo the belt she wore over her chainmail. She allowed him to help her release the straps for the chainmail she wore over a padded, long sleeved tunic. Removing the tunic caused a jolt of pain in her shoulder, causing her to hiss again. Anders maneuvered her good arm out of the sleeve and lifted the fabric over her head before halting his progress. The other sleeve was adhered to her skin from dried blood and removing it was a slow process. She awkwardly held the padded fabric with her good arm while Anders worked with the wet rag to separate her armor from the fissure in her skin. Once he freed the cloth from her wound, he took her bunched up tunic from her to remove it carefully from the rest of her arm and gently laid it on the floor. Sitting in just her leggings, boots and breast-band she was trying to keep her embarrassment to herself. She shivered, gooseflesh covering her. It was cold in the clinic.
Anders jumped up to add more wood and stoke the two fires burning in the clinic. Once they were both blazing, he washed his hands and grabbed a blanket off another cot seated next to the only piece of furniture—a desk.
He draped the blanket across her good shoulder, leaving the injured one uncovered, and settled again on his stool. The blanket was soft and warm and smelled of herbs and man. Her heart sped up. He had brought her the blanket from his bed.
Before that thought could go further, she sensed him drawing mana from the Fade. He enveloped them both in a blue healing light. Her pain vanished and she felt the skin of her arm tingling and itching as his magic sealed her wound. The blue light dwindled and went out all together as he let go of the mana he was holding. Picking up the wet rag, he wiped away the remaining blood to reveal pale flesh. She didn't even have a scar.
He searched her face as he asked, "Was that the only wound you received?"
"Yes."
Satisfied with her answer, he nodded. His shoulders sagged and he ran his fingers across his forehead. Kattrin had so many questions but he was obviously drained. He dropped his hand and sighed before looking at her. "I'm sorry that you were hurt while helping me."
"I meant what I said about helping mages." She reached out with her healed arm to run her hand from his feathered shoulder down his arm to linger on his hand. "I'm sorry about your friend."
"Thank you." His voice was kind, but hollow. Her heart went out to him. She squeezed his hand briefly, trying to offer him some comfort.
"I'm here if you need to talk."
"That's kind of you." His eyes were dark in the low light as he searched her face again. "You are a rare person to offer help to someone you just met."
She smiled at him. "I think I mentioned I help mages."
Kattrin was rewarded with that small smile of his, but only briefly.
"I suppose I owe you an explanation."
"I do have some questions," she admitted, "but I'll understand if you're tired." She gave his hand another squeeze before placing her hand in her lap.
"No, it's fine. I need to observe you for a few hours, so we're not going anywhere for the moment. Let me make some tea." He stood and filled a pot with water and dried leaves before setting it over the fire.
Instead of returning to his stool, he stood leaning his backside on the desk, arms crossed. He was braced, waiting for her to begin.
"In the Chantry, it felt like you drew on a Fade spirit."
His eyes widened. "You know of Fade spirits?"
"A little. My talent lies in Spirit healing but I haven't received any training. Everything I have learned has been on my own," she admitted, sheepishly.
"I… This is hard to explain. When I was Amaranthine, I met a spirit of Justice who was trapped outside of the Fade. We became friends. And he recognized the injustice that mages in Thedas face every day."
"A spirit trapped outside the Fade? Is that even possible? No, please don't answer that. I'm sorry." She took a deep breath. "Your spirit of justice sounds like a useful friend to have."
He uncrossed his arms and looked down at his feet. "He was far better to me than I have been to him. To live outside the Fade, he needed a host. I offered to help him… We were going to work together, bring justice to every child ever ripped away from his mother to be sent to the Circle. But… I guess I had too much anger. Once he was inside me, he… changed. I thought I was helping my friend. He would have… died, I guess. If that even means anything. And he wanted to help me. He knew what mages have suffered. But my anger… when I see Templars now, things that have always outraged me but I could never do anything about… He comes out. And he is no longer my friend Justice. He is a force of vengeance. And he has no grasp of mercy." His shoulders slumped and he looked like a lost little boy.
His description reminded her of her father's descriptions of abominations. But he'd been very clear that abominations were the result of demon possession. The drawings she had seen of abominations showed figures with clumps of putrid flesh and claws or figures of living fire. Anders didn't appear to be possessed. He was kind and gentle and seemed in control now. In the Chantry, though, he had lost control.
"Can you undo this? Can Justice ever be separated from you?"
"I don't think so. The only way a spirit has ever been separated from a living host is by its death. The curse is of my own making. All I can do now is hope to control it."
"Can you control it? Can you bring him out at will?"
"No. He comes only when I've lost all power over myself. It's a madness, a frenzy. I only find out after what I might have done."
A silence stretched between them. She didn't really know this man, this mage. Was he dangerous? She looked around the clinic and remembered him healing the boy and then helping the pregnant woman. And she felt safe sitting in his clinic, under his blanket. As she pondered this, he removed the boiling tea from the fire and filled two chipped clay mugs. He passed one of the mugs to her. Having just come from the fire, it was too hot to hold in her hands, so she placed it on the floor.
She looked at him. He'd resumed his post leaning on his desk. The only thing that had changed was the steaming tea at his elbow. He was tense, waiting for her to speak, to pass judgment on him. Well, judgment was for the Maker. And she wanted to help this man, this healer, and not just for her own reasons of wanting to learn from him; and not just because she found him attractive, either. Kindness was so hard to find in Kirkwall, especially in the Undercity. He ran his free clinic giving aid and hope to the downtrodden. He did more good in one day than the Chantry probably did in a month.
He had been so gentle in treating her and he hadn't even been angry at having to do so. If she wasn't careful, she would lose her heart to this man. So, with that thought in mind, she tried to lighten the mood.
"So, that explains your whole sexy tortured look."
His eyes widened. "Perhaps I should check a looking glass more often," he said, mirth coloring his speech. He looked her over again, as if seeing her in a new light. "I had not thought to ever find a woman who would look past what I just said."
Her heart sped up and she blushed. She hoped that the light was dim enough that he didn't see.
He continued. "My maps are yours. As am I, if you wish me to join your expedition. I thought I was done with the Grey Wardens, but if you have any need of me… I will be waiting here."
"Thank you," she said, and she meant it. The Deep Roads expedition was her only chance to stay out of the Templar's reach and his help meant the world to her.
She must have spoken aloud because he said, "I understand. We're all trying to stay out of the Templar's reach."
He moved toward her. She was disappointed when he took his stool and moved it away, placing it between her cot and the desk. She found herself wanting to be closer to him. She would just have to make do with his bedding. He sat and then reached behind him for his tea. While his back was turned, she discreetly bent her head and inhaled his scent from the soft blanket. He looked at her over his mug as he took a drink. He briefly closed his eyes and sighed, enjoying the hot liquid. Kattrin was reminded of her own tea, but as she reached for it, he bent over and retrieved it for her, his hand brushing hers as he passed her the steaming mug.
"If I may ask, have you been an apostate your whole life?"
"Yes. My mother grew up in Kirkwall and my father escaped from the Circle in the Gallows. They fell in love and fled to Fereldan. They had me a few years later but we never stayed in one place very long. Even when the twins were born we continued to live on the run. It wasn't until I was fourteen that we moved to Lothering. It was a small town with a small Chantry and we became familiar with all of the Templars. That way if there were rumors of apostates we would hear of them. We almost moved again when my sister, Bethany, started showing signs of being a mage, but Mother put her foot down and we stayed in Lothering until the Blight caught up with us."
She took a drink of her tea. It was strong mint tea, with a hint of honey. It was delicious and felt wonderful going down, warming her from within.
"You and Bethany were lucky. Most mages would kill to have what you had." He looked at her like he could be included among those mages. He thought for a moment. "You know, you're the only person I've met with a mage parent she actually remembers."
She chuckled. "You sound like my father."
"Yes, well, having escaped the Circle, he would know. So, you and your sister learned all of your magic from him?"
"Well, Bethany did. I learned everything he had to teach but he couldn't help me with my healing gift. His talent lay in Elemental and Primal spells." She smiled ruefully. "He was so terrified when I told him that spirits spoke to me in my dreams. He actually broke into the Chantry to steal enough lyrium to go into the Fade with me and make sure I wasn't speaking with demons."
Anders nodded. "Even in the Circle, Spirit healers are rare. We're looked at with suspicion until someone has need of a healer. Then, what we do is overlooked." His voice was tinged with bitterness and he scowled at his tea.
Trying to pull him back from his dark thoughts, she said, "That's when he taught me his vow: Magic serves that which is best in me. Not that which is most base. He told me that as long as I followed it, I would never succumb to blood magic or demons."
He looked at her with his kind eyes. "Your father is a wise man. Is he still with you?"
She was surprised that even after so much time it still hurt. "No," she said softly. "He went to the Maker's side four years ago." She couldn't stop the shuddering sigh from leaving her lips. With a heavy heart, she continued. "Then, last year, I lost my sister while fleeing the Blight in Lothering."
Anders set down his tea before standing. He brought his stool closer to her and sat back down, putting his hands on her arms. "This is painful for you. I'm sorry I asked."
Managing to prevent the tears in her eyes from spilling was difficult in the face of his compassion. "Thank you. But I lost my father and my sister more than a year ago. You just lost your friend tonight. I'm sorry we couldn't save him."
He looked away from her, his expression unreadable. "We did save him," he whispered.
Kattrin shuddered involuntarily.
He gave her arms a reassuring squeeze. "Tell me about your sister."
She told him of growing up with the twins who were seven years younger than her. Carver with his caustic personality being an opposing force to Bethany's cheerful one; they seemed always to balance each other. She told Anders of Carver's growing resentment of the time that she and her sister spent with their father, learning to control and hide their gift just as he was learning to always protect the whole family.
"Bethany was my closest friend. She was the only one, besides my father, who understood what being a mage is like. She knew what we had to go through, every day, to prevent the three of us being taken away by the Templars. Whether to be carted off to the Circle, made Tranquil, or simply executed. Carver understands the need to hide, but his understanding only scratches the surface."
"Even though you lost them, you were very lucky to have the time that you had with them. Most mages barely remember their families. And we all come to the Circle alone." The bitterness in his voice was back and he must have been remembering his own experience being taken to the Circle. At some point in her story he had removed his hands from her, leaving a chasm between them. She tried to pull him back and close the distance again.
"What about you? Do you have any good memories of life in the Circle?"
He was thoughtful for a time. "There are brief moments; a stolen night of passion, sneaking out of the Circle, Mr. Wiggums the mouser, Karl." He paused. "Other than that, no."
She felt like an ass. "I'm sorry. My father never spoke of the Circle unless trying to instill something by making a point. I should have known not to ask."
There was another pregnant silence between them. Suddenly, Anders looked at her, catching her eyes. "You mentioned you've had little training in your talent. Would you like my help to learn more of Spirit healing? I could teach you."
She smiled at him. "I would like that very much."
Smiling, he said, "It's settled then. Would you like to start tomorrow?"
Kattrin groaned, remembering her promise to Aveline. Anders raised an eyebrow. "I promised to help Aveline with some unsavory types on the Wounded Coast tomorrow afternoon. I owe her for helping with the Templars this evening."
"Then I owe her, too. And I could use a potential friend in the guard. Perhaps I could join you?"
She felt elated at the idea. Oh, yes, she was going to lose her heart to this man if she wasn't careful. "How could we turn down such a talented and generous healer?"
His eyes twinkled. "How indeed."
Anders stood, taking her empty tea mug and his own and placed them on the desk. She noticed pre-dawn light coming in through the windows. She'd been here talking with Anders all night!
"You know," he said, turning to face her, "I don't know your name."
Thoughts of the coming dawn fled. Her mouth fell open; then she started laughing. "My name's Hawke."
"Just Hawke?"
"Like just Anders?" she teased. He gave his crooked smile. "Well, if you must know my name is Kattrin Hawke, but most people just call me Hawke."
"Kattrin. That's a pretty name."
And didn't that just set her heart running again? "Thank you."
"Avvaran, isn't it?"
His question surprised her. How did he know that? What kind of things did mages learn in the Circle? "Yes, it is."
"I'm sure it has special significance since you said your parents were from Kirkwall."
She nodded. "I was named after an Avvaran woman who helped my father and mother through the Frostback Mountains and into Fereldan before I was born."
"Well, Kattrin Hawke, allow me to be a gentleman and walk you home. We both need some sleep before traipsing around the coastal regions of the Marches."
He moved closer to her and bent to retrieve her tunic and chainmail from the floor. "And may I suggest that you repair this before we set out?"
He passed the garment to her and she started to look at the damage. She could fit her whole hand through the breach in her armor! She groaned. Andraste's ass, she didn't have the coin for armor repairs. She'd have to have Mother help her with it. And that might earn her a lecture.
Anders stood over her. "What's wrong?"
"If I bring my armor to my mother to fix, I won't get any sleep at all. And I don't have the coin to bring it to someone else for repair."
"Well, how about you sleep right where you are and you can worry about the armor repair later this morning?"
She was about to refuse when a huge yawn cracked her jaw, causing her eyes to water. Anders smiled at her again.
"That settles it," he said, pushing her shoulders down and pulling her feet up onto the cot. He retrieved his blanket from around her and before she could protest, he draped it over her. He left her side and quickly returned with a pillow, which he placed behind her head. She felt a small flow of mana but she was too tired and ignored it. Moments later, sleep claimed her.