"I can't tell if you're the best or the worst liar I've ever seen," Varric said later. "You get caught constantly but are never at loss for a new one that everyone will buy. Maybe you're just a savant."

She made a face at him. Abelas had seemed to accept her story that she knew of Flemeth as a legend of her people, but hadn't known that she and Mythal were one and the same. When she'd told him Flemeth's history, he'd seemed unsurprised his goddess would choose such a mortal vessel. That had helped, but she sensed she was losing credibility. She couldn't afford to show him how much deeper her knowledge of the woman ran. She didn't want him to know about the piece of old god Flemeth had taken into her, and she didn't want him to know about Morrigan and her child. Especially Kieran.

Cassandra sat next to Varric on a log and poked at the small fire. Sera grabbed at sparks as they flew off. The four of them had retreated after her verbal dancing to try and make some sense of what was happening. Hawke's sack lay on the ground.

"I could say the same to you," she said. "You never told me you knew the statue was Flemeth."

"First, Your Worship, not telling stuff you know about is not the same as lying. It's also much easier. Second, I didn't even know you knew who she was. I figured you had no idea, and in front of the ancient, crusading elf was not really the time to bring it up." His face flickered in the light. "I'm starting to get a really bad feeling about what's going on, though."

Sera rolled onto her back. "What is going on? This whole thing used to be a lot easier, yeah? Fight Coryfeetius, close up sky holes, try not to get sliced open too much. Simple stuff. Now it's all mirrors and goddesses and mess. The only good thing was burning down a house and we didn't even get to do it."

"When it comes to speculating about goddesses, I'll stick with Andraste. But Flemeth, that I can guess at," said Varric. "Hawke told me she first met her around here, showed up as a dragon to scare off some darkspawn. She gave Hawke an errand that sort of reanimated her up near Kirkwall, kind of like a death do-over. The Hero apparently killed a dragon outside of a house nearby, a house with some magical protections in it. We found that hunk of rock not two miles away. And I don't know if anyone noticed, but that statue had a ring on it that looked a lot like the amulet Hawke found. I don't trust the coincidence."

"You think that Flemeth lived here?" Cassandra looked around, nose wrinkled. "Hardly a comfortable existence."

"Yeah, and if she was an elf goddess, or had one inside, the mirror thing was probably hers too. Merrill, a Dalish we knew, crazy but full of information, said they were portals from ancient elves. Maybe this is Mythal's personal one."

Evelyn shook her head. "I think the one we found in the temple was Mythal's. Though I guess they could have more than one. Gods probably get special service." She considered. "But Abelas said he didn't know what the key is, and he probably would if it was Mythal's. So maybe not."

"Either way, Your Worship, something bad happened to Flemeth here on her home turf. She was a scary lady. I don't like to think about what could stop her."

She studied her hands silently. The voice from the path came back to her, below the crackling of the fire. Not yet, little one. She shivered.

Cassandra's eyes sharpened. "Is something wrong, Inquisitor? Something else wrong, I mean," she amended. "Clearly very little is right at the moment."

Could she offer this much trust? It sounded crazy even to her. But maybe it was time to let someone else share her thoughts, at least on this. She hung her head lower. "I think that Mythal, or Flemeth, or whoever -"

"Flemythal," Varric said. Sera high-fived him from the ground.

"Right, okay, Flemythal, that's good. I think she's kind of talking to me. Like, inside of my head." She looked through the curtain of her hair at her friends, trying to judge their reactions. "I hear a voice sometimes in me, but it's not me, and I'm starting to think it's her."

Cassandra had a neutral face. "What sort of things does she say?"

"Warnings, mostly. She warned me about lying to Abelas, that he was baiting a trap when we talked once. She told me on the path on the way here, when things got chaotic, that it was too soon to look for -" She broke off. She wasn't ready to talk about Solas. "To look for her. I needed to look for her guardian and the slave and help them first. I thought the slave was Fenris and the guardian Abelas, but neither of them seem to need my help. Not in any specific way."

She raised her head. "This all sounds insane, doesn't it?"

Sera nodded. "Oh yeah. But it's no different than the weird shit you always spout off, your Heraldness."

"Look, Inquisitor, from my own experiences, hearing voices is never a good sign. My brother heard a lot of voices before they killed him," Varric said. His voice softened. "But I can also say that you don't sound anything like him, nor have you tried to take over our minds, so you're probably not being possessed by anything. Yet."

"In a weird way it almost makes sense," Cassandra said. "Not that you can hear her, but what she said. The guardian of Mythal might be Flemeth, correct? She guarded her spirit for years, if we can believe the elves. And she certainly needs our help."

"But she's a giant statue with her face like a shocked fish!" Sera said and opened her mouth wide. "Unless we take a hammer to her, she's probably going to stay that way."

Evelyn turned to Varric. "How did you re-animate Flemeth before? In Kirkwall?"

"Oh yeah, it was no problem. We had to fight our way through a ton of abominations and some graveyard corpses to do a Dalish ritual on top of a hill by a creepy altar. Routine stuff. Hawke had to deliver this necklace thing to them to do it." They both looked at the bag between them. "Oh no. She wouldn't."

"You know she would. You met her. She thinks eight steps ahead."

Cassandra protested, "We said we would take that to Denerim."

"We will. Minus a witch." Evelyn looked at Varric. "Hawke's not to know about this. Promise me."

He rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Yeah, yeah. It would just make her scorch me. Don't worry, Your Grace. Like I said, I'm good at not telling the stuff I know."

She walked back to her tent the long way, checking the perimeter of the camp. The outer guards nodded to her, then focused their attentions back on the forest. She approved. Hawke and Fenris's tent was on the very outskirts, and from the sounds inside he was no less aggressive with his lover than with his enemies. Thoughts of Cullen came to her unbidden, and she walked more quickly to leave them behind. She'd read the letters from her advisors earlier in the day. Josephine's had been witty, Leliana's dry and informational and Cullen's formal and exact. All correct attitudes when communicating with their leader. She'd read Cullen's twice, searching for any mirror of the misery she felt, but there was nothing. Maybe it was for the best. She would have to lie to them all again when she wrote back anyway.

Evelyn was almost to her tent when she heard low voices to her right. She stopped and stepped closer warily. She relaxed when she saw Dorian and Iron Bull sitting between two trees. They hadn't seen her approach, and she watched, curious. Iron Bull sat as motionless as Flemeth's statue, but Dorian's hands were busy tearing at nature. Grass, leaves and sticks were shredded beneath him.

"Nature really is insupportable," he said. "It's impossible to keep oneself clean here, much less one's clothes. I'll have stains on every outfit for the rest of my life. At least I was able to take a bath after the two lovebirds had finished muddying the water."

Bull sighed. "Dorian, you've gotta let that guy stop getting under your skin. He hates everyone. He even hates his friends. It's not personal."

"Exactly. It's not personal. My magic, my country, my lifestyle. The hate is never personal." He tore another blade of grass in half. "Mother Giselle gave me another chat about my poor influence on our esteemed leader before we left. I'm not sure which thing she hates the most, but she certainly hates all of them. My father, well, he only hates one, but he hates it enough to make the others immaterial. And this elf…"

He laughed, the sound dropping into the night like a pebble in a hollow well. "He's attractive. I can't help the fact that he is. And even if he cares for women now, as a slave in Tevinter he certainly slept with men. The magisters would never have let him alone. When he looks at me with cold eyes, my head knows he's only seeing Tevinter. I know, but I don't feel. They're the eyes of my father. Or the boy who rejected me before I became the perfect specimen I am today. Or the man who had me for two months before taking his wife, and three months after that. Or the women who try to ensnare me even while they loathe me."

"So screw them. You can't let other people's shit mess you up. I lived under the Qun my whole life. Now I don't. When the rules stop working for you, you throw them out." Bull sat forward, elbows on his knees.

"The Imperium's rulebook is a little less renounceable, I think, when you are the scion of a great house. And I am far too fond of creature comforts to let that all go." He paused. "Maybe it would be different if I were like you. You have your Chargers, you have friends. Your rulebook could be rewritten into something better. In all of Thedas I have only one friend, and our lovely leader is a dear but also a very busy woman."

"Shit man, you know you've got more friends than that. Every one of her people would step to the line for you, die for you, and not because she'd order it. You're their friend. And I can't believe I'm saying this about a damn Vint who's not in my squad, but that includes me."

Dorian's smile glittered. "That almost sounded affectionate. Best be careful you don't lose your edge. You know I only sleep with men who despise me. Lucky for me that leaves such a large field."

He stood and strode in her direction before she could react. His face broke slightly when he saw her, but he didn't stop. Iron Bull leaned back against the tree and sighed. "I told you that elf was gonna be trouble, boss."

She found him outside her tent, face haggard. When he saw her, he sprang forward with a smile that almost reached his eyes. "My lady, let me apologize for my unseemly outbursts, wherever they may occur. I remain, as always, dedicated to your service." He bowed and kissed her hand.

Her eyes never left his face. "You don't have to do this."

"Who would I be if I didn't? The swearing of allegiance to a beautiful lady is a cornerstone of my image. Come now, don't ask me to give up my identity."

She squeezed his hand and didn't let go. "Hawke told me that she and Fenris leave for Kirkwall tomorrow. They're anxious to be home."

He relaxed. "Ah. Forgive me if I don't attend the good-bye ceremony but my grooming schedule has gotten completely out of hand during these forested weeks. I must catch up."

"I'll make your excuses. Maker knows we need you looking your best - how else will morale be maintained?"

"Why, Inquisitor, I wasn't aware your morale was so dependent on my handsome features."

"I meant Scout Harding. She's given herself a good vantage point of your tent for a reason, you know."

He chuckled. "It's nice to be appreciated." He looked back towards the woods. "I should probably apologize to the meddlesome Qunari."

"Probably. I wouldn't kiss his hand, though. I don't think he washes nearly so regularly as the rest of us."

"Oh, I think I can find something more interesting to kiss," he said, grinning. He looked at her seriously. "Are you writing to Cullen soon?"

She looked away, hurt. Dorian gripped her hand in wordless apology. "I'll send a report to the Commander tomorrow, I hope."

"Good. I didn't mean to bring you pain. It's just, if Hawke and her lover don't leave as planned, you may want to ask him to send an extra Templar or two here." He smiled ruefully. "The elf really does get to me. If venting with words stops working, there are worse things that could come."