In the morning, Hawke stumbled to the door of the little room she and Fenris had collapsed in. Her head was pounding, and she remembered why black ale was such a bad idea.

As she entered the main room, she heard Varric chuckling. "Here's another one, Rivaini. Make two of those while you're at it."

Evelyn flung a hand over her eyes against the light, which wasn't any too bright but was still too much for her in her current state. "Two of what?" she croaked warily.

"Hangover cures. Trust me, you'll feel a lot better when you have one of those down you. Sunshine's still working on hers."

Staggering to the chair Varric was holding for her, Evelyn sank into it gratefully, reaching for the glass Isabela handed her, before common sense reasserted itself. "Where did you find the makings for a hangover cure in the middle of the Carta's hideout?"

Varric laughed. "Who do you think invented this stuff? Carta members drink hard and still need to be at their best the next day."

"Is that on the brochure?" Hawke tilted up the glass, nearly dropping it when the smell hit her. "What's in this stuff?"

"Don't ask," Bethany said. "You don't want to know."

"You're a mage, why can't you cure hangovers, without having to drink something this …" She held her breath and tilted the glass up, draining it as fast as she could.

"It doesn't work that way, sister. Besides, the way I felt this morning, I couldn't have cured myself, much less you." Bethany was blushing, for some reason. Evelyn narrowed her eyes suspiciously, studying her sister. What was there to blush about down here? And then Isabela bent over Bethany, the pirate's browned hand brushing the hair back from Bethany's pale forehead, and Evelyn knew. Automatically, she wanted to jump up and yell at her friend for corrupting her sister—but she felt foolish for the mere impulse. Evelyn closed her eyes, instead, willing her stomach to settle.

She heard the faint scuff of feet that indicated Fenris was awake, and turned to see him smiling at her, his eyes bright and clear. "I hate you," she muttered. "Just once, can't you be hung over?"

Fortunately for him, he had learned not to be smug about this. He walked across the room and began to rub her shoulders, working the knots out of her neck.

"All right, you're forgiven," Evelyn sighed, leaning back against him.

"If we're all finished being lovey-dovey," Varric said, "I suspect we should get moving. There was movement down in the depths of this place last night. I don't know what they're waiting for, but I don't think we should let it get here."

"More Carta?" Hawke asked.

"Probably."

"Great. You think this Corypheus person is down there?"

Varric shook his head. "I don't think so, Hawke. Corypheus isn't exactly a popular dwarven name."

"It sounds Tevinter," Fenris put in.

"You think some Tevinter magister is after me?"

"Unless it is a trap for me."

Evelyn tilted her head back to look up at him. "Well, they can't have you. I'll just have to explain that to them."

"To the entire Tevinter nation?" Fenris raised an eyebrow.

"If I have to." She stood up, putting a hand on his arm. "Stop worrying about the Tevinters."

"That's easy for you to say."

Hawke gave his arm a parting squeeze before armoring up. "Let's get a move on," she said to the others. "Whoever this Corypheus is, I'd like to deal with him before nightfall."

"Ah, Hawke, always efficient," Varric said, shouldering Bianca. "Ready when you are."

In a fairly short time they all were ready to start down into the depths of the Carta's hideout. Isabela went first again, tiptoeing down the stairs and peering around a corner. She nodded at them for the all clear signal and they made their way to an open area filled with mining carts.

A dwarf stepped out from between two of the carts, folding his arms and blocking their way. His eyes were the same milky grey-blue as all the others.

Hawke, expecting an attack, drew her blade, but beside her she heard Varric's voice. "Hawke, don't." He walked toward the new dwarf and stopped in front of him. "Gerav, what are you doing here?"

"We follow Corypheus," Gerav said. "Join us, Varric."

"Join you? In what, worshipping demons? Gerav, you're sick. Let us help you."

Gerav was shaking his head. "No demon. Corypheus." He stepped closer to Varric, licking his lips. In a high, excited whisper, he said, "We drink the blood of the darkspawn. And then we can hear it." His face lit up, his eyes seeing visions the rest of them could not.

"Hear what?" Varric asked.

"The song! The beautiful, beautiful song."

"Can't you die from drinking darkspawn blood?" Hawke asked.

Gerav gave no sign that he had heard her. He looked at Varric. "Join us! You, too, can hear the song, Varric."

"Bianca sings sweetly enough for me," Varric said. "Remember Bianca, Gerav? Do you think she wants to see her papa like this?"

Hawke's eyes met Isabela's. Amused, the pirate mouthed "papa?" Hawke shrugged, looking at Varric. "You want to introduce me to your crazy friend?"

"Hawke, this is Gerav, one-time mad genius and now apparently just … mad. Gerav, this is Hawke, she for whose blood you appear to lust. Although I have to warn you, if you're after eternal youth, she's no virgin." He grinned up at Hawke, who shook her head.

"Not the time, Varric."

Gerav looked at Hawke, taking a step forward. "The blood of the Hawke," he whispered.

"That's far enough." In a single swift movement Bianca was poised and ready to send her deadly barbs into her maker's heart.

Hawke looked down at her friend. He wore his usual stoic expression, but she had known him long enough and well enough to see how hard this was for him. "Varric … if you want to save him … We should try."

Varric shook his head decisively. "Not if he threatens you, Hawke." He swallowed. "Besides, look at him. His mind's gone. This isn't my friend anymore."

"We will have her!" Gerav thundered. He threw something down at his feet and a cloud of smoke rose around him. When it dissipated, he was gone and several more dwarves had appeared.

"Reinforcements!" Varric cried in outrage. "Dirty pool, old man!"

"Varric, behind you!" Isabela shouted, throwing a dagger. It grazed Gerav's arm as he threw himself out of the shadows at Varric, but knocked him off-balance enough that Varric could get out of the way. As Fenris, Isabela, and Bethany engaged Gerav's backup, Hawke spun to face Gerav, bringing her blade down in a heavy slashing motion. Gerav spun away, his daggers flashing as he twisted. He lunged at Varric, who countered by lifting Bianca up, catching the dagger on her stock. It made a nick in the edge of the stock that Hawke knew Varric would spend hours trying to smooth away. Dropping low, and glad she had spent so many hours practicing with Varric, she struck at Gerav's legs with her sword, the blow landing on his shins. He howled in pain, but it wasn't as crippling as it would have been had she managed to hit the backs of his legs instead, the bone having stopped the blade's momentum.

Gerav turned with his daggers lifted, and stiffened, his eyes glazing over. Hawke looked down at the silver crossbow bolt protruding from Gerav's chest, and then met Varric's eyes. He looked at her squarely, refusing to admit to his emotions, and she wanted, as she did so often, to bend down and hug him, to let him drop the bravado for someone, anyone, if only for a minute. But he would never accept such a gesture, certainly not while the others were cleaning up the last of the crazed dwarves. So she just nodded at him, briskly, and turned away while he bent to rifle through Gerav's pockets.

"I am wearying of these dwarves," Fenris said as she came up to them.

"They're not even interesting anymore," Isabela agreed.

"That's what bothers me," Hawke said. "This Corypheus seems to have so many dwarves at his command that he can afford to lose them in foolish assaults like this. I don't think I like that idea."

"They're stupid, too," Bethany said. "Why are they throwing themselves at us in combat, instead of waiting in ambush, or trying to pick us off one by one?"

Isabela shivered, glancing nervously at the shadows. "Don't give them any ideas."

Evelyn walked over to Varric, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You all right?"

Varric trembled slightly, keeping his face averted from her. "He was a brilliant son-of-a-nug, had some amazing ideas about weaponry. He spent years trying to design the perfect repeating crossbow; Bianca was the only one that ever worked. Never thought he'd end up like this, fodder for some sanity-eating maniac." He shook his head. "Shouldn't've happened this way." Reaching out, he gently closed Gerav's eyes; Hawke heard a single strangled sound from him that was the closest she'd ever known Varric to come to crying. She kept her hand on his shoulder, squeezing tightly, and Varric put his on top of hers. "Thanks, Evelyn. I'm all right now."

He'd never used her first name before, not in all the time they'd known each other. "I love you, Varric."

"Please, Hawke, not so loud. I like my heart right where it is, thank you, rather than yanked out of my chest by a jealous husband." His voice was back to normal, the usual cynical smile spreading across his face. "Let's go see what other traps this Corypheus has lying in wait for us." He patted Bianca gently. "Bianca and I have a personal score to settle with him now. She's ready to give him a tongue-lashing."

"Richly deserved," Hawke agreed.

The others had finished cleaning out the fallen dwarves' valuables. With Isabela taking point again, they moved farther into the depths of the building. Suddenly, there was a clanging sound above their heads.

"Watch out!" Isabela called as a metal gate slammed down, narrowly missing Bethany, who jumped out of the way just in time.

"Someone does not want us leaving," Fenris observed.

"Really. You think?" Varric snapped.

From the darkness in front of them came the resounding trumpet of a bronto. "Great," Hawke said. "They have pets."

"I suppose it's too much to hope that they're inviting us to a lunch of hearty bronto steaks," Varric said.

"No point in that, Varric," Hawke said. "We didn't bring any of the good steak sauce."

"Way to look on the bright side."

As if his words had been a code, suddenly the room was lit by a glowing ball suspended from the ceiling.

"That wasn't you, Bethany, was it?" Hawke asked, knowing the answer before Bethany said no. "They have a mage. Isn't that interesting."

"Coterie, too? Who is this Corypheus?" Varric asked.

"Sometimes Coterie mages hire out to the Carta," Isabela pointed out.

A heavily armored dwarf came toward them out of the shadows, and the bronto followed him.

"That's not steak," Bethany said, her voice trembling slightly.

"Not yet, Sunshine. Give us a chance, will you?"

The dwarf came toward them. "Hawke! I thought you were going to be trouble."

"I aim to please."

"But you will come with us, you and the other child of Malcolm Hawke. I have sworn to Corypheus that we will bring him Malcolm Hawke's blood, and what Corypheus wants, Corypheus gets."

"Lucky sod," Isabela said.

"Come on, Rivaini, what have you ever wanted that you didn't get?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Hush!" Hawke said to them both. "How much blood is it that Corypheus wants, exactly?"

"Sister!"

"It's just a question." She looked back at the dwarf. "Are we talking opening a vein, or a whole kidney, or …"

"We will take it all!" The dwarf raised rapt eyes to the ceiling. "Corypheus! The sacrifice is here! You will see the surface once more."

"Hawke, it appears that your blood, or Bethany's, is required to free this Corypheus. Blood magic." Fenris made a face. "Of course."

"I'm sorry," Hawke said to the dwarf, "but our blood is in use right now. Can this wait, say, seventy-some-odd years until we're done with it?"

The dwarf made no response to her other than to raise his fist in the air and give a loud cry. Instantly a troop of archers appeared on a platform above their heads, and the bronto ducked its head, trumpeting in response to the dwarf's call.

"Bethany, the bronto," Evelyn said quickly, drawing her sword.

"Right, sister." Immediately the bronto was enveloped in a frosty white shield.

The dwarf gave another cry, this one outraged, and he threw himself forward, his giant blade sweeping the air in front of him. Hawke jumped back just in time. Varric turned Bianca's face toward the archers, directing her song at them.

Isabela was swarming a rope that led to the upper platform, a knife gripped between her teeth. She leaped off the rope, landing on the platform, and the knife found a home in the windpipe of the nearest archer before he had time to realize that she was there. Hawke side-stepped the archer's falling body, parrying a sudden hard thrust of the lead dwarf's sword. Fenris was taking advantage of the bronto's frozen condition to close in on it, his markings glowing brightly. As the frosty coating melted, Fenris thrust his hand inside the bronto before it had time to move again, ripping its heart out with a single fierce tug. It fell to the ground, and the dwarf with the big sword cried out in anguish. His attack on Hawke became more frenzied. But now Fenris had joined her, and the two of them were more than a match for a single dwarf, no matter how powerful or motivated, and he fell at last, landing on top of the sword. A blue light came from it as soon as he had dropped it, and Hawke's eyes were drawn to it immediately. Something was calling to her, tugging at her very blood.

"Sister? What is that?" Bethany asked. She, too, was moving closer to the glow. The other dwarves had all fallen, but Evelyn barely noticed, her attention focused on the strange glow and her need to get closer to it.

Isabela dropped from the platform above, landing lightly next to the dwarf. She bent to turn him over.

An irrational panic seized Hawke. "Don't touch him!"

Startled, the pirate looked up. "Sorry, didn't realize this one was special."

"Hawke?"

Dimly she registered the concern in Fenris's voice, but all she could focus on was following the pull of whatever it was that was trapped beneath the dwarf's body. She reached out with her boot, shoving at him more and more viciously until the body turned over.

"What's with her?" she heard Varric mutter.

"I do not like this," Fenris replied. "It appears to be some type of possession."

"Great. Just what we needed. Hawke possessed."

She paid them no attention; they weren't important. Hawke knelt next to the dwarf. The blue glow emanated from the giant sword he had carried. Her hands reached out for it of their own volition, grasping the hilt.

It was as if something from the sword was crawling inside her body. Hawke stood, unable to let go of the sword, bracing herself against the sensation.

"Hawke!" Fenris shouted.

"I can feel it … inside me," she managed to gasp. The sword moved in her hands as if it was alive. And then it was over. The glow receded, but still she could feel the pull inside her, as if the sword was connecting her to something, someone. "This will lead me to Corypheus," she said with confidence. How she knew, she couldn't have said, but the knowledge was there.

Fenris was looking at her with concern and a hint of fear. She could understand the emotion—this smacked of Tevinter blood magic—but his obsession made her impatient. "It's just a tool, Fenris. Nothing more."

"Doesn't look like it's good for anything else," Varric said critically, studying the blade. "Can you actually fight with that thing?"

Hawke looked down the blade. She had to admit, it was probably the ugliest sword she had ever seen; oversized, even for a greatsword, with a gaudy collection of gems around the hilt. The blade itself seemed more like bronze than steel, and she shared Varric's skepticism about it as a fighting weapon, even though the dwarf she'd fought had wielded it normally.

"Can you put it down?" Bethany asked, and Hawke recognized that as a valid concern.

Her hands didn't want to let go, but she forced them open, the sword falling to the floor. Fenris breathed a perceptible sigh of relief; everyone else less so, but Hawke could tell it was a weight off their minds. The sword still called to her, but it wasn't glowing and there wasn't that sensation of something inside her. "Do you feel it?" she asked Bethany. "Blood of the Hawke and all that, can you feel it calling you?"

Bethany stared at the sword for a few moments before shaking her head. "No."

Something in Hawke was relieved that she didn't have to share the sword, and she swallowed against the apprehension she felt. To admit to it would be to give Fenris entirely too much encouragement. She bent down, picking up the sword. "At least this gives us some direction in the search for Corypheus."

"It's no Bianca," Varric said, "but I guess it'll do."

They all fell in behind Hawke as she moved into the dark space ahead of them, following the urging of the sword.