Redeemers

by RikkiTikkiCathy

Dorian and Fitzwilliam had come to Tevinter to effect change, to redeem his homeland. They'd expected double-dealings, the drudgery of politics, and bloodshed. It was the rest of it that was giving them trouble. The world was changing. Could they change with it? Or would it tear them apart in the process? Part 3 of the Makers series

8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The missive had come several days earlier, nestled into the dead drop with his other contracts. This one, however, was not in his contact's lettering as the others had been. Written, instead, in a hand that seemed to be deliberately neutral. Neat, all capital letters, uniform in size and spacing gave little away.

COME PLAY, DRAGON. THIRTEENTH POLE.

And so there he stood at the thirteenth light pole, just as before. Waiting. Glancing down over the sea damp timber and up towards the lampposts and their mage-fire glows. Magic used in excess, magic put to clever purpose - Ataashi supposed it all depended on whose opinion you sought. The elf, he decided, would lean toward the former. Opinion delivered with a roll of those oh so distracting eyes and some clever quip from his smirking lips. Or would he lean forward, all passion and righteous fury and fire each word like an arrow shot deadly from a bow. Ataashi grinned, a flash of white teeth from the confines of his hood. He could honestly say visualising the prospect of both made idle time waiting far more pleasurable.

How long he waited, he couldn't guess at, distracted some by his own idle musings. He almost didn't recognise the elf until he was a few lampposts from the thirteenth, if not for the flash of lamplight on that brilliant russet hair. Hood pulled back, Ataashi could see the curve of a smirk, the mischief dancing clearer still in his eyes as the elf walked - all cock and swagger - down the boardwalk to meet him. Was it a display intended to prove trust? Allude to a want for true partnership? Something told Ataashi it was too cleverly crafted, all smiles while a dagger hovered waiting at his flank. Feladara was dangerous, make no mistake of it. To be lured in by the pretence of friendship was more than folly. His own misgivings and the memory of Dorian's concern enough not to be taken in by the sway of a red braid and the wicked promise in expressive eyes.

"You do realise that offer could have easily been a trap." Feladara greeted him with a quirked eyebrow. "I gave you very little to go on. Anyone playing at being me could lure you out. Towards grounds you obviously don't favour."

"You're right." Ataashi smirked. "But I'd have greater things to be concerned over if someone knew of our previous meeting well enough to lead me here. A trap is one thing. Someone having knowledge enough on you to know your movements, do a decent enough job mimicking you in two brief sentences? I'd be far more concerned with that than walking into a trap."

The elf's smirk shifted - something resembling honest delight tugging the corners of that crooked smile. There and gone in a flash. Ataashi could't help the swell of pride at having been the cause of it.

"Clever." Feladara eyes twinkled and he turned with no further word, braid whipping out like the tails of a banner - drawing Ataashi's gaze just as effectively as any lord's standard could. Distracted by the sway of it, he almost missed the elf's words, called over his shoulder with clear amusement. "Well, since you're all dressed up for the occasion, care for an evening stroll?"

He didn't wait for an answer and Ataashi had to leap into action to catch him as Feladara sprinted off down the docks towards the boatsheds and warehouses ringing the water's edge. Longer legs mean a longer stride and he ate away at the short head start the elf had with relative ease, despite the sheer speed in which Feladara moved. He matched pace, settling in at the other assassin's side as he headed straight for the side of the nearest building. Feladara didn't slow, meeting the wooden wall at speed and flying up its side with a grace that Ataashi couldn't help but envy. Feladara paused at the top, bare toes curling over the edge as he sat back on his heels to look down at Ataashi with that flicker of smile in his eyes.

"Do you need a hand up?"

"I think I can manage." Ataashi rolled his eyes, tone desert dry. He followed with little trouble, efficiently finding handholds and footholds and pulled himself up onto the dockside gambrel where the elf waited. "We're running the rooftops then?"

"For the moment." Feladara nodded. "I'll even slow down for you so you don't have to struggle to keep up."

"Oh don't trouble yourself on my account." Ataashi grinned, sweeping his arm out in a mocking bow. "After you, Ser Elf."

Feladara laughed, a bright burst of sound and then they were off. Racing over the roof tiles of Minrathos at a pace hardly allowing for Ataashi to catch a breath let alone hold a conversation. It was a mad dash, something wild and seemingly directionless, completely at the whim of the tiny elf leading them on this merry chase. The wind whipped his hood back, pinking his cheeks and sending his once groomed hair into mad disarray. He could only imagine the look on Dorian's face when he returned, looking for all the world like he'd tumbled someone into bed rather than raced across the city after a fellow assassin. Given the teasing from nights previous and the playful hum of Dorian's amusement through the bond, Ataashi's Inquisitorial counterpart was in for a great deal more before the night was through.

Distracted slightly by the emotions he could feel originating somewhere north of where they ran, Ataashi needed to pause to regain his footing as a patch of straw - a bird's nest - sent his feet skittering unsteadily beneath him. He looked around from his perch atop a roof that was practically falling in, the docks long ago left behind and Feladara watching him from a nearby rooftop. Waiting.

He'd obviously lost track of just where they were several rooftops ago. Somewhere west of the docks, somewhere south of the upper ring, Ataashi glanced about for some sign of where Feladara was leading them. Nothing familiar save for the rising spires of the taller buildings to the north and when Feladara took off again with a flash of teeth and a wink, Ataashi had no choice but to simply follow.

The elf knew these rooftops far better and from up here, somewhere above the streets he was used to walking, everything looked markedly different. He'd find his bearings soon enough but the idea of so easily losing his way was….unnerving. Still he followed after the sway of a red braid - snapping like a flag and challenging him to lay chase. Feladara flew over the rooftops, running and jumping over eaves, swinging from posts and awnings. Ataashi seemed downright ungainly by comparison. The way Feladara moved was, well, it was like a dance.

His...preoccupation was hardly his fault. The way his eyes were drawn back towards the elf as he ran was entirely involuntary. In the dimness of the evening light Feladara's clothing made him look like nothing so much as a dark, naked shadow. Every inch of skin plastered snuggly with black fabric worn into dark patches of varying depth which, though it clearly did not restrict his movement, left very little to the imagination. And Ataashi's mind was more imaginative than most. It might have been that imagination playing tricks, but Ataashi could have sworn the elf stuck each landing with a grace and form which deliberately showed off his finer qualities. The barest kiss of bare feet on the terracotta tiles, the bunch of lithe muscle as he leapt free from one rooftop to land in a smooth crouch on another. The sway of coat tails giving teasing glimpses at the swell of that leather-clad arse as he straightened to run once more. Ataashi cursed as he stumbled, loose shingles sliding beneath his feet. He righted himself easily enough, but not before drawing the attention of the elf.

Feladara looked behind, a fleeting moment apparently all he needed to take in the situation, before tossing an amused comment back over his shoulder. "Try and keep up, Da'isenatha," he shouted, every ounce of amusement clear in his tone, even if his face had been quickly obscured again. Ataashi found himself glad he trailed behind, the distance enabling him to disguise the hint of his blush creeping up from neck to nose - and to hide his scowl. He knew what that word meant – "little dragon." A child's nickname. A mocking endearment for someone clearly Feladara's elder.

Or, at least it should have been. But the quip was delivered with such playfulness, something so like regard that Ataashi could not find the ire he ought to have felt. "I am trying," he retorted. "It's just that it is a very lovely evening and I am taking in the … scenery."

Before him Feladara paused atop a balcony railing, turning on the ball of his foot with an ease coming only of years of practice. The elf folded his arms, making quite the show of dipping his gaze to run the length of Ataashi from head to toe. He felt the touch of it on his skin like a concentrated beam of fire, warming him from the soles of his carefully worn boots to the tips of hair ruffled by their run.

A slow smirk pulled Feladara's lips up at the corner. "I'm enjoying it myself. There is something very… Marcher about it this evening." And with that he was spinning about, landing a roof below with the barest kiss of feet on shingles, before he was in motion. Rushing off once more.

Ataashi ducked his head, face hot from feeling the full weight of that gaze, though the elf had already sped off. Obscuring his blush from view was reflexive, but pointless. "Marcher?" he muttered to himself, already sprinting off in an attempt to catch up. Before him, as he pondered, Feladara's svelte form rippled with the shift of muscles beneath cloth. He hadn't noticed anything about the evening which reminded him of home. The hot sea air didn't really strike him as reminiscent of the crisp early-fall smell of the Free Marches. The sunsets at home were never as wide and long as they were in Tevinter, always obscured by forests and mountains. When he realized what the elf was actuallysaying he lost his footing again. This time he caught himself with fingers curled over the rim of a jutting a stove-pipe.

He was what was Marchian. Feladara had winked at his knowledge of having placed Ataashi with a flirtatious throwaway. I am in so much trouble, Fitzwilliam thought, pulling himself upright again.

He sighed heavily, and sped on, attempting to make up the distance lost and hoping not to lose the fleet-footed elf. Dorian came to the front of his thoughts, not for the first time. The mage was deeply suspicious of "Ataashi's" new connection and now, with the realization that the elf had placed his homeland, Ataashi was more inclined to share that suspicion than ever before. It was caution more than anything. They had been so careful to make sure Ataashi and Fitzwilliam could not be connected, but if the elf had made these leaps it was only a matter of time before he'd have to outright lie or deceive him to keep his secret.

Well, he thought, admiring the fine backside before him once more, as it dipped down in preparation for a lunge across roof-gaps, at least we know one thing – the spy is good at what he does.

Feladara chuckled to himself as he led them away from the docks, keeping a close eye on his new companion's progress as they ran. Baby dragon lacked a certain amount of grace necessary for mad dashes across rooftops and while Feladara did attribute a portion of that to his heavier bulk, well...he smirked to himself. If Ataashi spent less time watching certain parts of Feladara - that while very well formed were not the intended target for the evening - he'd spend less time slipping on loose shingles. Still, a lot could be garnered from watching Ataashi watching him. What drew his eye, what drew his focus, what broke his concentration. Everything useful and Feladara filed each new snippet of information away as quickly as he received it. Tidbits and half-formed thoughts all labelled "Ataashi" and stored away for later when he could kick back, alone with a truly horrible mug of ale, and turn the events of their first night running the rooftops over in his head. Start to piece together a clearer image of just who Ataashi was and just what it was he could do. Until then, he could throw out the hook and wait for the fish to bite.

It hadn't taken long for Ataashi to realise the meaning behind his comment, though longer than Feladara had hoped. Such a fumbling thing in many respects, like a young halla, all legs that lacked coordination and stumbling footsteps where grace would one day be. Oh, Feladara had seen the man fight - he had grace enough. More than enough. It just needed to be used for more than just clever plans and practiced movements.

With Ataashi distracted in the efforts to catch his footing, Feladara could make a show of running on ahead when instead, he chose to make use of Ataashi's inattention. He leapt across another narrow alley, landing from the higher rooftop onto a lower one before springing backwards to the wall of the building he'd just leapt from. He waited a moment's breath, listening for the heavier footsteps of his companion. They were softer than Feladara expected, hard to accomplish when clad in boots instead of bared feet. He was impressed. Ataashi knew something of stealth then - the previous display from days earlier not just the one trick the man knew. Granted there were no slavers or ship's captains to announce himself to here but the soft, almost silent footfalls - while not possessing the advantages of a smaller frame and bare feet - were display of skill not to be sneered at.

Feladara listened as the footsteps drew closer, the soft slide of a boot coming to the edge of a rooftop. A pause and then the crunching of tile as a foot committed to a leap. Watching Ataashi sail overhead, Feladara's lips twitched in a grin. The baby dragon blinked, taking a moment to look down at where he would land, and when he looked back up it was clear he had no idea where Feladara had gone. It was too late to stop his leap from the lower roof to pull himself up the next one, and once there he had too much momentum not to roll forward. A moment's pause and Feladara fancied he saw cogs turning in Ataashi's head. He seemed to stop his progress just long enough to plot and predict and then he was off again, leaving one very smug elf watching his retreating back.

When Ataashi had time to think, to plot and plan out his next move he made good decisions. Not great decisions when an element of - Feladara liked to consider it creativity - was required. He pulled up himself up to the edge of the roof before springing back over the alley and in the direction Ataashi had taken off in. The decision to follow Feladara's likely direction was a sound one, especially considering doubling back wasn't always an option when being pursued.

Feladara was quite used to being pursued.

The real question was how long could Ataashi continue on his path without realising Feladara now tracked his movements from behind. Almost too easy, how effortlessly he flanked the man. Feladara knew he'd have only one chance to surprise before that clever mind he'd already seen evidence of would come up with something to prevent the same happening again.

Ataashi couldn't keep this up forever. Either he'd see some evidence of Feladara's passing or he'd have to come up with a new plan. He hadn't known their intended destination, after all, so he was relying on Feladara to direct him. Matching pace enough to keep Ataashi in sight but remain hidden, he watched and waited for the next decision to be made.

Ataashi's eyes flicked to the left, then the right and settled on the highest point at their current location. From there he could get a line on Feladara. It was just a few more leaps, rolls, and pulls from here - if Feladara let him reach that spire his advantage become moot. His advantageous position was on borrowed time, now that Ataashi could spend less time acting on instinct and more time formulating a plan of attack, Feladara needed to think on his feet. Experience did mean Feladara could outthink the man, but a far superior ability for strategy meant Ataashi had the greater advantage. Luckily, Feladara more than made up for that lack in other areas

He knew these rooftops better, had run them for longer and could shadow Ataashi easy enough - even as he moved to higher ground. A waste of energy, to let the man climb any higher than necessary and their actual destination lay in a more north-westerly direction. Time to point the dragon in the right direction. Allowing Ataashi to come to a brief pause, Feladara dropped down silently behind him and coughed.

"Where have you been leading us?" Ataashi jumped at the sound of that sudden and much too close voice, feet skittering under him as they tried to halt and continue on at the same time. He wobbled, a little less than gracefully, and spun to face Feladara. The elf made a show of looking out over the streets, feigned curiosity belied by the wickedness of his smirk. "It seems far less eventful than where I'd planned but I'm sure you have it all well in hand."

"I… was…" he shook his head deciding against the confession and slid easily into wit. "I was headed to the bathhouse."

"Tired already?" Feladara laughed, eyes dancing with that secretive sparkle, though his face remained an impressive mask showing only what he wished, Ataashi was sure. An exaggerated sigh of disappointment as he glanced down, examining his fingernails with a bored expression that had Ataashi feeling like he had let him down though it was clearly all a play. "And here I was hoping you had the stamina to go on..." he trailed off, lifting a suggestive eyebrow, "much longer."

Ataashi felt a slight shiver at the implication of those words, unable to deny the spike of desire they drew. He could see Dorian behind his eyes, in the brief darkness which came with rapid, flustered blinks, smirking, poking fun at him for being "captivated" by his crush. Oh there would be absolutely no end to that teasing if he were proven right, Ataashi knew. Well. Two can play at this game, the thought, lips pulling up in a wicked smile.

He took a breath and bit his lip, leering at Feladara and not bothering to hide the attraction he truly felt. He let his eyes fill with the heat of it, and then he locked them on the elf's. "I was rather hoping you'd join me," he drawled, words dripping from his lips in his best imitation of Dorian's velvety tone. "But I suppose if you have your heart set on rough and tumble instead, I could be persuaded."

"Such narrow minded thoughts." The smirk Feladara freed was a mischievous thing, heat sparking in his own gaze in response to Ataashi's open leering. Delight and obvious lust in equal measure as his voice rumbled from lips with wicked promise. "Why settle for one or the other when you can have both. One after the other."

He turned without waiting for Ataashi's response, glancing over his shoulder and quirking an eyebrow upwards. "Coming?"

"Only if you're very good," Ataashi retorted before he truly realized what he was saying. He hoped the exertion of their rooftop run would disguise the flush that burned up his neck, brushing past the elf and took off in a direction that was a wild approximation of where he suspected Feladara was steering them.

The comment pulls a peal of delighted laughter from Feladara's lips, obviously quite by surprise. He choked it off with a short snort, rolling his eyes and darting forward to match pace with Ataashi's longer strides. His instincts at least, had served him well - Ataashi had led them in the correct direction even if he'd yet to work out their destination. Granted, Feladara hadn't offered a good deal of information on their current objective something that prickled uncomfortably in the back of Ataashi's mind if he was to be completely honest with himself. The elf offered little and expected much - at least save for the clear view of his uncovered face and the ease of their conversation the night they first met. Ataashi prided himself on his judge of character and while he remained cautious, even suspicious, of Feladara's motives, he found he wanted to believe that show of trust was genuine.

"There's a trafficking ring running out of a warehouse not far from here." Their pace is fast but no longer enough to limit conversation. Feladara shifts his weight subtly and alters their course slightly as he speaks. Ataashi follows after a moment's pause.

"Our destination, I'm assuming?" Ataashi curled his lips in disgust at the mention of traffickers, sneering at the thought of how easily they plied their trade in Tevinter. "And our target, I hope."

Feladara grinned and there was nothing pleasant in the promise those curved lips made. "Correct. It's run by a wealthy merchant making more coin on people than the ridiculous trinkets and silks these disgusting noble shemlen lust after. He has business dealings in Antiva and a steady supply of young children without the fortune…" he spits the word like acid from his tongue. "to find themselves in the Crows employ."

"Slavers." Ataashi doesn't even bother trying to hold back the low rumble of a growl that issued from between bared teeth. "If it's not the Crows then it's these bastards preying upon the most vulnerable."

Something flickered to life in Feladara's gaze, hesitant and fleeting. It took a moment, but Ataashi realised it was the stirrings of respect he'd glimpsed. An almost blatant admiration that for once had little to with obvious mutual attraction. Feladara was impressed with his reaction, turning to regard him from more than just the corner of his eye as he slowed his pace further.

"You gave me a glimpse of it, Da'isenatha." A curious quality to his voice, the elf tilted his head to the side in consideration. A few paces forward and still Ataashi couldn't quite place the emotion colouring Feladara's tone. "Before, on the docks when I handed you that slaver's manifest."

"A glimpse of what?"

"Your anger." He gestured with the careless wave from a gloved hand. "I saw it when you looked down and realised what the ship held. You were furious."

"You act like it should be surprising. Of course I was angry to see people traded like livestock," Ataashi snapped, heat leaping into his voice. "Slavery is a vile, disgusting practice. I hate it just as much as you do."

"I'm starting to think you just might." Feladara's smile quirked crookedly on his lips. Ataashi couldn't even call it a smile really and still his heart gave a odd leap at the sight, a hiccup that left him a little breathless. "You're a curious one, Ataashi, I'll give you that."

"Says the elf naming himself after a plant."

Feladara huffed out a laugh, that odd little smile disappearing and replaced by his ever present smirk. "I'll ask you how you know what the Elvhen of my name means later." He turned to face forward again, picking up his pace. "Once we've dashed slaver blood against the ground."

"We're headed away from the docks so our target isn't another ship."

"No. There is three...pens." It was clear Feladara hated to even speak the word. "They're all due for the sales later tomorrow. Elves. Children. The oldest has perhaps seen their 14th Nameday at most."

Ataashi's hands clenched into fists momentarily before he forced them back open, knowing they needed to be ready. "I take back what I said earlier," he said, eyes narrowed and more focused than they had been all evening. He could feel the predatory cast of his words and knew his smile, all white sharpness, was likely just as hungry. "This will be much more enjoyable than the bathhouse."

This. This is why Ataashi agreed upon an alliance with the elf, despite both Dorian's and his own misgivings. Despite his and Dorian's plans for the future of Tevinter, of the hours spent as vapid arm candy so Dorian could work the elite and turn the tide of approval. Despite nights spent arranging and dealing death to eliminate the worst kind of scum who held sway in the Magisterium. Despite it all, here and now, was the first time Ataashi felt like he could do something to help those who suffered the most without having to play the long game. A difference he could make, no matter how small, that he could actually see.

And even though he wore another name, he felt for the first time outside of the privacy of his and Dorian's rooms, like himself again.

"So, my elvhen friend." Ataashi smirked, every bit as hungry for blood as Feladara. "What is it you plan to do?"

Feladara smirked, wild and furious as he glanced over at Ataashi and saw the reflection of his own bloodlust in the assassin's eyes. How fortunate to find someone who loathed everything about this so-called "business practice" just as much as he did. He delighted in the appearance of such narrow focus, something foreboding and deadly in Ataashi's gaze previously absent. Feladara could recall that same look flaring to life before, Ataashi holding the shipping manifest and realising the cargo could only be soon-to-be slaves. No matter what else this man was, his hatred for slavers was true. Like called to like and Feladara knew a kindred spirit when he saw one. However complex that made the future, he couldn't hide his delight in that discovery.

"The plan, is up to you." He winked. "It is, after all, your specialty. I'll provide the information where I can."

"Oh, so I get to plan now?" Ataashi shot back and the wicked curve of that smile was enticing in a way Feladara enjoyed far too much. "Not just tossing me in and watching me flounder?" He watched as Ataashi considered for a moment, head tilted and that clever mind he'd only glimpsed at working away at the problem presented.

"The layout of the area would be helpful, but without sitting down and drawing it won't be very clear."

"You need to get more familiar with these streets, Da'isenatha." Feladara rolled his eyes but kept an easy levity to his words. No need to get backs up. "Spend more time wandering the streets and less time disappearing when daylight calls."

"Missing me already?" Suspicion colours the jest and Feladara files it away. More to examine later. "Tell me about the staff," he asked. "How many? Ages, nationalities, skills and weapon predictions would be helpful. Are any of them professionals or are we looking mostly at mercenaries?" Ataashi continued rattling things off. "Do we know anything about the Businessman? Are the children of varying age or are they more likely to all have the same selling points? Will they be destined for similar occupations, or specialized ones? How many children? City or Dalish? How secure are the pens? Are they lax enough that the children might try to run when chaos ensues?" Finally, he stopped and allowed Feladara time to answer.

"Two men guarding each pen. Young, mercenaries mostly from Tevinter but two are from Antiva. The two from Antiva are rogues - bladed weapons such as yourself." Feladara gestures to the fine daggers Ataashi used. "The Vints are warriors. There's at least one mage, though I've seen two there. More probably on hand if things head south quickly. Best to consider the possibility of at least two being there at the same time. The Children are...sorted. Each pen for a different intended...occupation. Household, Pleasure and...Assistant."

Assistant meaning mage fodder, for ritual that went unspoken of but known. Catered for.

"There's at least eight in each pen - 12 in the one destined for the brothels." Feladara snarled, though his face remained as impassive as ever. "Primarily City elves from Antiva but there are three Dalish. I don't recognise them personally but I suspect they're from a clan that moves about near the border into Antiva from the Free Marches."

Feladara took a breath. "As for the illustrious Businessman? No ties to anyone important through blood but well connected due to his...discerning eye for his 'merchandise' and his discretion. He'll be missed only because the absence of the constant supply of slaves he provides. He won't be there tonight. I plan to deal with him later."

"Are you planning on extending me an invitation?"

"Perhaps." Feladara found he quite liked the idea of that. Enjoyed the grin it brought to Ataashi's lips. "When you don't have your own contracts to attend to."

"I'll await your word with baited breath." Ataashi snarked, Feladra smirking in response. "Tell me more about these pens."

"The pens are too secure for the children to escape, even with a distraction giving them opportunity. But the locks are simple."

"Good. If then pens are secure it means we don't have to account for them getting caught in any crossfire. Though if there are mages there it would be best to pull the action as far from the pens as possible. And taking them out should be the first priority. The warriors will be easy enough. I can't compete with their brute strength, but I've yet to meet one who did go down if you got a blade into his liver," Ataashi chuckled a little. "I look forward to that moment. The one where the big bulky warriors with their halberds and longswords toppled like great trees struck by lightning."

"The bigger they are and all that." Feladara agreed, casting his eyes over in clear admiration of both his fellow rogue's larger form and everything he'd detailed thus far. The way Ataashi took the slightest bit of information and weaved it into a solid plan was certainly something to see. The delight he took in it even more so. He leered openly, enjoying the slight pinking of Ataashi cheeks as he did so. And the heated look thrown his way in return.

"That leaves the rogues." Ataashi continued, breaking their gaze and reaching back to tug a pouch free. "Shadow step can be annoying, but if we're observant we'll spot them anyway." He tossed the pouch across to Feladara. "Ash," he explained. "Hope you have something to cover your mouth and nose with."

Feladara had never used Ash before, fond more of the flasks that blinded or smoke that lulled people into a dizzying stumble. One particular one released a cloud of potent toxin that poisoned almost instantly, something his well-designed hood kept him protected from. He pulled it up over his head now, hiding the brightness of his hair beneath the dark cloth and tucking his braid away to deny grasping hands an easy leash. The cloth at his throat, looking at first like part of his tunic, was instead a mask that fitted snugly over his mouth and nose. Cloth that had cost a fair amount of coin, spelled as it was to allow him to breath easily but filter out the more nastier of concoctions he both used and had used on him.

"I believe I can handle the two rogues on my own, if you'd like to start with warriors." Feladara smirked, unsheathing his blades for a quick inspection before securing them again. "Shall I show you how it is done when you're not announcing yourself to an entire dock yard?"

Ataashi fought a grin but Feladara spied it twitching at the corners of his lips, sparking in his eyes. "If there's time to observe the area and pick our moment that would be ideal. Mages first if at all possible, then I'll take the warriors, you take the rogues. I look forward to… learning how it's done," he finished with an appreciative glint and a smirk. Oh the things Feladara wanted to do with that mouth...

Feladara grinned, the flash of white teeth hidden by the dark mask over his mouth. Another advantage of covering his head and most of his face. He lifted one finger up to the approximation of where his mouth was, indicating silence before ghosting forward - feet the closest to absolute silence one elf could manage. He lead Ataashi the last few rooftops needed to bring them to the courtyard where the pens were. Where the Children were. Feladara snarled, the sound muffled by his mask, as he spied the desolate look on those children's faces - some already bearing the marks of hands and magic on their flesh.

He felt the stillness fall over him, a quiet calm that came with taking the pure rage he felt and channelling it in a way that could stand for more than just vengeance. More than fury burning out of control. He wouldn't need the ash until he reached ground level and with a mage lingering close to one of the pens where a rogue and warrior already waited, the first two kills and one serious injury would be easy. Surprise, Ataashi would learn, could be more effective than any well thought out plan.

"You take that mage." He leaned close, almost breathing the words directly into Ataashi's ear. "But wait until I use my own Ash. That will be your signal."

And with that he dashed across the rooftop, bare feet silent as he moved. One leap and for a moment he was flying, the dark black of his clothes sweeping out like raven's wings. He didn't draw his daggers, instead pulling two throwing knives from his hip and sinking them both into the throats of first the Mage and the Rogue before he'd even landed. Daggers drawn in one swift motion he whirled in action, slicing both their necks while their eyes still bulged with surprise. Ducking low, he swept both double edged daggers in swift, cuts over the warrior's chest as went to heave his battle axe into play. With one final motion he skidded low on his knees to hamstring the warrior and watched him topple - a wolf-like snarl on Feladara's lips as he fell. Correction. The first three kills.

He found the bag of ash and disappeared in a cloud of black.

Ataashi found himself blinking. It had all happened so quickly. And gracefully. Like… like time had slowed down for the elf and the rest of them, mere mortals, had been helpless to move. The way lithe muscle shifted and moved as legs crouched and prepared for the leap from the rooftop. How did he pour himself into those leggings and can I be the one to help him out of them? He felt something suspiciously like laughter filter through the bond, Dorian's wicked brand of mirth altogether just as distracting as the sight of Feladara moving like sin and shadow. He silently thanked the Maker when the ash puffed up in a dark cloud and he could go to work.

He pulled the cowl over his lower face and made his way into the ash, drawing blades and closing the distance between himself and the second mage as quickly as possible. He'd always had fairly good recall, so as long as the mage, a slender woman with an angry scar down her cheek, hadn't moved he would find her… He favored precise strike, but in the din it was hard. He struck low, hoping, and succeeding, to stab down through the thigh. She dropped, a wild flare of fire shot out toward where he had been. Good, better into the ash than up like a flare.

He circled around back, preparing to land a killing strike when white hot iron stabbed at him. Too hot. Even with the wild fluctuation in magic lately it shouldn't have been able to heat the steal of her blade that quickly. He dodged, mind spinning.

Andraste's ass, he groaned inwardly. He crouched low, making sound as he moved one way, drawing her attention, before silently rolling the opposite way. She's a blood mage. If he'd known that he would have made her the priority. Aaaaand, he thought wildly as a fiery circle of rage-filled heat radiated out from her, warming the air and clearing the ash some, she's angry.

He threw his voice, calling out in a way he hoped would misdirect her focus. "Blood Mage!"

Of course there was a Blood Mage. Tevinter vomited Blood Mages up at every opportunity and it made for an interesting time when your primary means of dispensing with enemies involved a measure of bloodshed. Still, Feladara had measures in place for the appearance of Blood Mages and was practiced in using some...creative methods of neutralising them. What he wasn't used to was using Ash to conceal his movements and position and it proved to be a slight hinderance to his practiced methods. But Feladara was nothing if not quick on his feet - both literally and figuratively.

He was impressed at the way Ataashi threw his voice, managing to pinpoint his direction only because he'd been careful to keep an awareness of his new partner lest they end up fumbling into each other. Always hard to work with someone you weren't used to if you didn't pay attention. He needed to get eyes on that Blood Mage - he had the means to take her out of action quickly if he could get a decent line of sight.

Feladara cast his gaze about quickly, dodging the brutal swing of a greatsword and leaping nimbly out of the way of the swift jab of the remaining rogue that endeavoured to flank him. Where was the damn Blood Mage...Ah! There.

Fortunately, the blood of the dead didn't hold quite the same power of the living and Feladara always did his best to kill when dealing with mages - just in case. She was bleeding herself from the little he could see through the Ash, a wicked slash in her palm and on her leg. Pulling a healing flask from his pouch - a fast acting reagent a gifted healer had concocted for him - Feladara hurled it at the Blood Mage.

Ataashi moved again, just in time to hear the shattering glass and see the splash. The blood of her palm and knee vanished and a wry smile twisted his lips. That clever little elf. He'd hit her with a contact healing potion. A strong one too, to work that fast. He kept moving and thanked his lucky stars that he wasn't bleeding or else she would be able to – a jut of pure flame shot directly at him.

What in the void was this now? There wasn't enough blood to power that funnel of white-hot heat, not now that the others were dead and the mage's wounds had been healed. He dodged, the spell still hot enough to scorch him, and heat his daggers. He dropped them and bit back a curse. None of this made sense. His mind was spinning with theories but he shut it down. He didn't have time. He need to stop her before she rotated again and caught the pens in the crossfire.

He whistled, hoping to signal the elf. If they could flank her, draw her focus, no amount of magic fire would save her. Mages were just like anyone else. A sharp point in the right spot and they went down. He just needed someone to distract her.

Feladara was a little busy, dealing with the remaining rogue that danced with her blades just as fast as he did. She whipped around him, nimble on her toes as she did her utmost best to get behind him. Not particularly wanting to end the night with a blade in his back, Feladara mimicked her movements - dancing left when she did, sweeping right as she did. He couldn't take his eyes from her for a second. When that whistle came, Feladara could have kissed the baby dragon in sheer relief, as the other rogue flicked her eyes towards the sound. It was all the opening Feladara needed, lashing out not with his blades but his foot. It connected with her cheek, snapping her head to the side and Feladara followed it up with a sharp upwards kick to her chin. She shook her head, dazed, before stumbling backwards. Feladara slit her throat and leapt over her falling corpse.

Two warriors and the blighted Blood Mage left. His new associate was doing his utmost to keep her flames away from the pens but those jets of flame were completely out of control. Where was she drawing her power from? Feladara needed to get to get this done and go help Ataashi. He needed that Warrior dealt with and fast. Right.

Leaping forward, Feladara sprung at the gigantic brute of a warrior looming down on him, leaping up and over the sweep on his axe to wrap his thighs around the man's beefy neck. Using his momentum he twisted his hips to sweep the man off balance and topple him to the floor. He heard the warrior's neck snap. He wasn't getting up again. Feladara sprung back to his feet, sweeping up a palm full of gravel and hurling it at the the Blood Mage as she turned towards him. She recognised the new threat, seeing how effectively he could take down a man three times his size and preparing to send a spell to neutralise him. The gravel hit her in the face and she flailed at the sting of it. Just enough time for Ataashi to do something.

Well, Ataashi thought, eyes wide, that'll do it. He didn't waste time. Feladara's distraction was effective, but it placed the pens too close to the mage's area of effect for his comfort. He pulled at his sleeve, ripping a seam at his forearm and dug his fingers inside to release a sender skewer. He'd had Harrit craft these, extremely tough metal with no give despite how thinly it was hammered into the slim octagonal cylinder and Dagna had enchanted them. It was about the same length as his arm from elbow to wrist. It pulled free easily, slid into his hand, and then he drove it into the mage's back, down into her shoulder.

She howled in pain and spun to face him. Fury pulled her features into a fierce, chilling grin and he watched that familiar expression of power and triumph cross her face as she called on her magic to burn him into slag.

Her palm thrust out, landing on his chest. A small curl of smoke rose from where she singed the suede of his vest. Her face dissolved into confusion and panic. He grinned, something white and sharp and predatory. She wasn't even bleeding, he knew, and she wouldn't as long as he left the skewer in. Not that it mattered overly much. Had there been other blood mages, the not bleeding would have been monument. But the very fine runes carved into the shaft would have rendered this mage useless even if the slit the wrist of every living person in Thedas.

He reached for his belt, pulling free one of the small throwing knives, and thrust it forward, hard. It had to be hard to break through her sternum. She was probably just caught up in all of this. She deserved death, but it would be a quick one. A small mercy he doubted she had time to appreciate. She looked down at the steel in her chest, back up at him, and then crumpled to the ground.

He would have taken time to appreciate the kill, it was a good one, but there were still at least two more targets to dispose of. He moved, trying to reposition himself in the image his mind held of their surroundings, listening and looking to place the remaining threats.

Well now, that had been interesting. Whatever Ataashi had used to neutralise the blood mage's magic Feladara was very interested in getting his hands on. Maybe he could sweet talk the other Assassin into sharing some of his own little tricks. But that was for another time and by his count they still had at least another warrior to deal with - a warrior who'd been suspiciously absent. That meant reinforcements and that meant trouble.

"We've got incoming!" he shouted out to Ataashi, jerking his head upwards towards the roof. "Get back to the roof."

They wouldn't have the advantage of ash clouds this time and Feladara couldn't use one of his toxin clouds due to the children. But there were a few more tricks he could try, if the reinforcements didn't comprise of nothing but mages…

"Get to the back of the pens." He told the children, relying on those who spoke Trade to pass the message onto the other children. To the Dalish, he said the same in Elvhen. "Cover your eyes and don't look until I say."

He didn't waste time after that, scaling the wall as fast as he can find hand and toe holes. He could see as

Ataashi turned to climb the wall just as the reinforcements came in, sprinting to the nearest building, leaping to grab the lip of a sill and pull himself up. It put him several rooves from Feladara but at least it raised him outside of the courtyard that was undoubtedly about to become a warzone. Now things were really starting to get interesting. He had two choices. Regroup with Ataashi and lose the element of surprise, allow the reinforcements the chance to settle into defensible positions. Or he could place his trust in the man he barely knew and hope that he'd have his back. Neither was a very wise decision.

And when have I ever been accused of being wise? Feladara grinned, wolfish smile all teeth as he reached for a sleep flask and ran towards the rooftop's edge. You better have my back, Da'isenatha, he spared one last thought before he hurled the flask and leapt down into the fray.

Ataashi wasn't used to operating like this, all seat-of-his-pantsy. It was… exhilarating. And the elf. He had been like a force of nature, a cyclone made of bramble. A flicker of a glance in his direction and then the elf was off running. Ataashi shifted to the balls of his feet, ready to follow. He crouched on the roof, waiting, watching to see what Feladara would do next.

He was sure it would have been a sight, but then he felt the prickle on the back of his neck. He rolled to the side without bothering to look. Automatically, his right hand came up, protecting his face, as his left drew a blade. His palm blazed in sharp pain - a cut but shallow, superficial. He didn't have time to worry about it, at any rate. He had an outlying rogue to focus on.

He couldn't use the ash again. He was going to have to rely on training. He eyed the man – average height, slender, shocking blonde hair, and a smirk that oozed confidence. Ataashi had a feeling he was in big trouble.

And then there wasn't a lot of room for feeling or thinking. It was all a dance, a desperate, nearly instinctual, sway and sweep of bodies. This was bad. Very bad. All Ataashi had time to do was react and sooner or later he was going to misstep and when that happened it would be over. He was going to have to think of something clever. He let his body move on muscle memory while his mind ran through a list of his assets.

His daggers, which wouldn't do him a lot of good as he clearly couldn't get close enough to use them. He grimaced against the sharp ring of metal on metal as one of those very blades blocked the other rogue's longer, hooked-steel. There were a couple throwing knives left but no way to get to and release them without telegraphing his actions. That left little more than a few sacks of Scatter, one of ash, and a last mage-breaker. Which would do exactly nothing against the blonde, as he wasn't a mage.

This mission had probably been a bad idea…

There was nothing for it, now, however. Feladara was on the other side of the courtyard, able to do precious little, and Ataashi was clearly out-skilled. He hated counting on "luck." It was too much to hope for, that the blonde rogue would trip up. That meant he would have to use his wits. On the fly. Oh, this was not going to end well.

Ataashi flung his arm out, sweeping the blade for the other man's eyes. The blonde dodged easily, of course, but that didn't matter, the edged metal was never meant to connect. As his arm passed, he pulled on a ring, carefully concealed under the armpit of his jacket. A puff of red floated out of his sleeve and into eyes that had gone wide with surprise.

The man went still, lids squeezing shut, breathing temporarily stopped as he rolled to the side. Ataashi didn't waste time. He knew the second the move had bought him would be wasted in an attack. The other man was too good, too aware, it never would have landed. What he needed was to buy the minutes he needed. So he ran.

He knew he didn't need to go far, over a couple rooves and down onto a sill. He pressed his back against a window, and counted breaths. The rogue came hot on his heels, three exhales later, and Ataashi was ready. The slim throwing knife sank into his neck. The body fell the rest of the way, landing with a wet crunch and in a twisted, sickening crumple. If the knife hadn't killed him that fall had. Ataashi's stomach turned but there wasn't time to indulge his conscience, there had been mages flooding the courtyard and he'd left the elf alone. He was sure Feladara was more than capable but he rushed back anyway.

In the brief moments before the flask shattered, sending the fine powder crafted to lull anyone who inhaled it into a haze of almost sleep, Feladara scanned the courtyard and took stock of his opposition. Mages, the lot of them. The very ones he mentioned to Ataashi that might be lurking about. Six in total and too many to handle if he couldn't at least thin the numbers swiftly. If the flask went to work, he could kill two possibly three before the effects began to wear off. After that, he was relying on his new associate to help him deal with the rest. Hopefully, Ataashi could pull another trick from his sleeve.

The flask shattered, a cloud of purple tinged dust billowing into the air just before his feet touched dirt. The mages coughed, spluttered, scrambling to cover their noses and mouths too late as they began to sway on their feet. Heads lolling, eyes glassy they fell into a stupor. Feladara had very little time to cut these numbers down to something far more manageable for an elf with naught but his smarts and his daggers. He landed in a crouch behind the first mage, one sweep of his dagger sliced through the tendons at her ankles and sent her crashing to her knees. He hooked the wicked curve of his dagger around her neck and felt it sever her throat. One down.

He spun to the side, first blade biting into the second mage's right side where neck met shoulder, the other repeating the movement on the left - almost taking the mage's head clean from his shoulders. Feladara brought a bare foot to the mage's chest, kicking him back and pulling daggers free with a spray of arterial blood. Two down.

The dust was clearing, the sleeping powder losing potency and still Feladara could see no sign of Ataashi. No moment to consider possible abandonment, or wonder at the presence of the bitter tang of betrayal rising in the back of his throat. Four mages still stood, two shaking off the effects of his flask and preparing themselves to cast. Feladara was almost out of time.

With a burst of speed Feladara threw himself at the third mage, who stood still trying to shake off the powder's haze, sliding around past fumbling hands as they readied a staff to appear at his back. He didn't have time to go for the throat, sinking both blades down into the meat of his back instead and kicking at his knees to send him crashing face first into the ground. Not dead - but he soon would be. That was three.

Feladara turned just in time to dodge a jet of flame, felt the heat of it scorch alongside his cheek and thanked the Creators his cowl had some measure of protection against mage fire. He'd not even taken another step before another jet of flame arced towards him, Feladara hitting dirt and rolling to avoid the brutal onslaught. This mage had a ridiculous amount of power and little finess - hurling fire about with a ham-fisted display of strength and hoping the sheer amount of fire would hit its target. Sloppy and yet Feladara for all his speed could only dodge so much. He came to his feet, leaping aside to avoid another blast of flame and narrowly missing the ice glyph forming just to his right. Fen'harel ver na, Ataashi if you've left me to deal with the mages on my own.

Chanting to his left, the Tevene garbled enough by the distance for Feladara to barely understand what the mage was casting. He dodged another jet of flame, spun to avoid the jut of ice exploding from the ground and felt the tug of magic begin to slow his movements, body sluggish. Heavy.

Entropy magic. Wonderful.

He stumbled, limbs suddenly left with all the grace of a newborn halla. Fumbling. Creators, but the urge to sleep was overpowering. It took everything within just to keep dodging flame and ice.

"You will die, elf!" Someone spat. One of the mages. Feladara could barely form thought enough to pinpoint a direction to decipher who. "I will enjoy feeding your body to the carrion birds."

"Lasa adahl su nar masa!" Feladara snarled, tripping over nothing and stumbling to his feet just in time to avoid another uncoordinated blast of fire. He couldn't keep this up. Not much longer.

He needed to deal with that Entropy mage. But with his body barely heeding his commands, stumbling about like every drunk he'd seen leaving the tavern in the wee hours of the morning, he couldn't hope to bridge the distance between them without drawing even more fire and more ice. Feladara wasn't stupid. He'd take two steps and everything would be over in seconds. Distance, at least for the moment, was the only thing keeping him alive.

He could slip into the shadows. He lacked the grace to disappear completely but he could hide enough to buy him time. Precious seconds of life to figure a way out of this mess. If he could just banish the fog slipping over his senses, dulling his mind. He stumbled again.

So this is how I go. He couldn't help but bark out a laugh, feeling that unrelenting pull of life draining magic send him crashing to his knees. He grinned, a bright slash of white from the confines of his hood as his head lolled towards the ground. You should know better, idiot. Never trust a pair of pretty eyes.

When Ataashi finally cleared the roof and dove, flattening himself, he had only a handful of moments to take in the courtyard. Bodies littered it, the children in the pens were sleeping, the older, bigger ones were groggily coming to. He spotted a few new bodies in the rubble. Maker, he cursed inwardly. There were three mages down there, if their robes were anything to judge by. Two stood doing nothing. One was casting, the air around her hazy, like a hot summer day.

That was when his eyes spotted the elf. His elf. Face down on the ground, the two non-casting mages moving, almost languidly, toward him. He felt his chest clench, instantly thinking he was dead. But that was stupid. He forced himself to his feet and ran the rooftops, crouched low, as silent as could be. He circled around behind the casting mage. He's fine, he told himself, already tearing on his sleeve to free the mage-breaker. He trusted you. Don't let him down. And on that somber note he completed his loop and jumped.

It was fortunate the mage was too busy gloating to pay attention to him. He had the thin metal rod in her back before his feet hit the ground. He rolled, letting the momentum of the fall carry him, and came up running, the mage's scream of pain at his back. The other mages turned in time to spot him, raise a hand to cast, but he reached into the pouch of ash, pulling out a handful, and threw it into the eyes of the one on his left. The one on his right got a spray of red dust. That exhausted most of his assets. But they had bought him a much greater one.

He didn't stop to deal with the mages. In fact, he slid right past them and grabbed up a stirring Feladara by his underarms. "Upsy daisy sleepy head," he quipped, forcing a smile and pulling the elf to his feet. "This is no time for a nap," he continued, shaking him a little until he was standing under his own power. Below them Ataashi spotted two daggers, red and black. He bent, grabbing them up quickly and pressing them into the elf's hands. "And here I thought you were a professional," he snarked, winking at the spy before him, smile wide, taunting and playful.

With his feet steady beneath him, daggers in his hands and magic no longer clouding his mind it was like he'd never been moments away from meeting his death, face down in the dirt. Feladara could barely believe his luck. But no, not luck. He smiled, surprising himself with the genuine tug of his lips in response to Ataashi's playful taunting and wide grin. Seems this pair of pretty eyes is trustworthy after all.

"Took your time, Da'isenatha." He snarked right back, spinning to press his back to Ataashi's as the remaining mages did their level best to flank them. "Decided the bathhouse was a better option after all?"

Ataashi's heart was still recovering from a nearly uncomfortable hiccup at that smile when their backs pressed together. Maker, that smile. He tried to keep at least two of mages in his sights. There was no way the one mage was getting the breaker out on her own, so she only posed a threat as a distraction, but this had been too close of a call already. He wasn't going to take more chances. "Bath house? Maker, no," he laughed, feeling his blood singing with battle lust. "I had a dance with a beautiful blond man. Got a bit distracted."

"If you're going to go tearing off after every pretty thing that caches your eye, I will be heartbroken." Feladara spun a dagger in his hand, grin sharp as he watched the mages circle. "But I will be generous because you have such pretty eyes. Take your pick. Fire or Ice?"

The flush in Ataashi's cheeks was just from the exertion. That was all. "I think I read a poem about that once," he shot back. "It was morbid. I call ice. You've already had a snooze. Need to get that blood boiling again." Andraste's ass but this smile would not run away from his face. His cheeks were beginning to burn.

Lust for death, for slaver blood quietened the flare of panic at the thought of taking on the fire mage alone. But that panic was his - not for Ataashi's knowledge. No matter the man came back. Old hurts were not for new partnerships. Instead Feladara winked, a mischievous thing tossed over his shoulder while he kept a glancing look on the mages from the corner of his eye. "Nothing like working up a sweat with a bit of exertion. Do try to keep up, Da'isenatha. It's far more enjoyable when we match pace."

And with that, he leapt forward in a blur of shadow and blades, slipping into shadow step and launching himself towards the mage before an uncontrolled jet of flame could find it's way to scorch a single piece of flesh.

"Oh you cheeky little…" Ataashi didn't have time to finish the thought. The ice mage hurled a dark, frozen ball at his head and he had to roll to the side. "Drinks are on me if you finish first," he shouted when he got his feet under him again.

"Be prepared to spend a lot of coin then!" Feladara called back, exploding from the shadows as he spoke just in time to duck a wicked blast of flame. "Ataashi duck!"

Ataashi dropped to a crouch without thinking, feeling the searing heat sail over his head just in time. "You might want to do something about all that flame getting hurled about!"

"You're too used to throwing orders about, Da'isenatha!" Feladara danced over a fire glyph before it could form. "Stop being so bossy!"

"Less banter, more stabbing, brat!" Ataashi came to his feet, focusing on the mage as he skittered backwards with every step the assassin took forwards. The ice mage had an air of panic in his eyes. Oh he knew he was outmatched and he had no interest in dying here. He could see behind his eyes with every blink, in the way he didn't cast with the deadly force he should have. No interest in killing. Or at least, not as much interest as he had in living until tomorrow. The shards of ice released from his hands were pure instinct, defensive and easily dodged with a single side step.

Cold prickled on the back of his neck and with a grin that sent a flash of fear spiking in the fire mage's eyes, Feladara dodged to the right. The fire mage raised his hands all too late, the ice impacting his chest and sending him off his feet. Two long strides and Feladara buried his blades in his chest, bare foot pressed into the mage's throat as he pulled them free and flicked the blood to the sand. He didn't linger to watch the life fade from his eyes, turning in time to see Ataashi lower his shoulder and rush the remaining mage.

Ataashi charged. His shoulder connected hard, knocking the air from the mage and he lifted him easily, driving them both into a stone wall. He twisted, arm reaching up and grabbing him about the throat. Even now, all that fear in his eyes, a look that knew death was coming, he didn't use lethal force. "Tell me your name," he growled at the mage. He lessened his grip just a little. Just enough for the mage to rasp out his response.

"Calder Bilsby," he gasped breathlessly. Ataashi saw the truth of that in his eyes.

"You run, Calder Bilsby," he snarled venomously. "You run as far as you can for as long as you can. And when you collapse, get up and run some more. If I ever see you in this city again, if I ever so much as hear your name whispered among slavers you'll wish I'd killed you tonight." He pulled his hand from the man's throat and watched him scramble away. His other hand tucked the papers he'd pulled from the mage's robes into a vest pocket.

"I wonder how drunk I'll have to get you to liberate that from your person." Feladara smirked, coming up behind Ataashi just as he secreted away those slips of paper. "I'm willing to give it a damn good go."

He couldn't help the chuckle those words pulled free. "Can't tell you their worth," he said, patting his chest. "I haven't read them yet." He turned and favored the elf with a smile that was more delighted and genuine than he was entirely comfortable with, regardless of how close fighting for your lives brought people. He nodded to the last mage. She was on her knees, still trying to pull the breaker from her body. Rendered entirely useless without her magic.

"Perhaps I just want to get you drunk." Feladara winked, a impish delight in his eyes. He turned as Ataashi gestured with his head, staring over at the final mage - useless now due to whatever his fellow assassin had done to her. The smile twitched on his lips, delight slipping away and something darker taking it's place. Feladara began to stalk forward, slow and deliberate steps so he could enjoy the frantic scramble of the mage as she scrabbled at her back. Watched her mouth open and close for the want of words that would not come as Feladara idly considered the blades in his hands.

"Please." She finally whimpered. "You do not have to kill me. The other mage. You let him go."

"Because my companion is kinder than I." Feladara shrugged. "But you're not dealing with him."

Even though she stood a head taller than him, Feladara lifted her with ease, hand fisted in her robes as he tugged her to her feet. She struggled but without her magic she had little strength. Feladara grinned.

"You're dealing with me."

"Ple…" The pleading word was choked off, gurgling from her mouth as Feladara slipped his dagger into her gut. She twitched in his grasp.

"Su an'banal i'ma." He slid his blade free and turned, not bothering to watch her crumple to the ground. She would die. Slowly. That was all that mattered. He flicked the blood from his blades and slid them home into their sheaths, already dashing towards the cage holding the youngest of those captured - the children watching with wide, scared eyes.

"Ssssh now, da'lens." He murmured, already pulling free his lock picks and working on the lock. "I'm so sorry you had to see such death so soon. But they can't hurt you anymore, understand?" The elflings, so tiny and so afraid, whimpered softly. "Soon you'll be free and we will keep you safe. My friend and I."

He glanced over at Ataashi. "Start on the other cage?"

Ataashi nodded, ignoring the warmth blooming in his chest. He moved, his own picks making short work of the simple tumblers holding the pen shut. This man, this elf of paradoxes and contradictions – beauty and death, kindness and vengeance. How could he take a life one moment, and the next be nurturing small, terrified urchins? There was so much more to Feladara than he let Ataashi see. He wanted to know every single hidden place in that mind. The elf was a riddle he desperately wanted to solve.

He smiled at the children, these the eldest, and pulled the door open. "Is anyone hurt?" he asked. They were experienced children, they would know he meant something more than scratches or bruises. They all shook their heads. "Good," he smiled. "I'm going to need you all to watch the little ones, make them feel safe, be brave for them, okay? My friend and I, we'll take care of all of you, get you somewhere safe, but we need your help. Do you think you can help us?"

Most of the children nodded, eyes wide with shock, but also feeling hopeful, and helpful. "Are you a hero?" one boy piped up. His voice was small, like the rest of him and hoarse from disuse, he hoped. "You and your friend?"

Ataashi laughed, darting a glance toward his "friend." What a question. He returned his gaze to the boy and tucked a finger under his chin. He flinched, but didn't pull away. "We're all heroes, da'len," he whispered. "Each and every one of us, if we choose to be." The boy smiled at him, a genuine crooked little thing and Ataashi smiled back before he stood and ushered them all from the cage. He'd need to retrieve the breakers before they left, but first, the last pen.

Feladara could hear Ataashi's murmured words, a strange kind of warmth pooling low in his stomach at the simple kindness, the gentle playfulness of his tone. Who was he, this man who returned when he should run? Who spoke to elvhen children in soft tones and smiled when others would sneer. Feladara shook his head. It wouldn't do to get distracted now.

The lock fell free, Feladara cooing softly when the clang and thud sent the little ones skittering to the back of the cage. "I'm going to open the door now, da'lens and I would very much like if you would come outside. I promise, nothing here will harm a single hair upon your heads. Not while I have breath left. Can you do that for me?"

Cautiously they began to creep forward, small steps at a time - some on unsteady feet still not yet used to walking. Feladara choked down the rumbling growl begging to be voiced at just how young some of these children were. It wouldn't do to frighten them all over again with anger he couldn't control. "That's it. A few more steps, da'lens and then you'll be out of that cage."

A small boy, a head of what might have been blonde hair once if dirt hadn't coloured it a filthy, muddy colour, stopped where Feladara was crouched and reached out a tiny, shaking hand. He traced the Vallaslin winding its way across the bridge of his nose, branching up over his forehead. Feladara smiled. The boy's lips curved with his own.

"Do you think you could all come out now?" the little boy nodded and the rest followed suit. "Is everyone able to walk?"

The little boy shook his head, pointing over to a small girl curled up in the corner. "Her leg hurts."

"Okay, my little friends." Feladara stood from his crouch and moved to the side, away from the door. "Everyone see that very pretty man over there? I want you to go over to him and wait while I help this lovely lil lady out."

The children, staring wide-eyed at Ataashi and the older children surrounding him suddenly burst into action and dashed across the short distance. Some to be reunited with older siblings, others to stand hesitantly and wait. Feladara crawled inside the cage, determined to keep low to the ground and to a height that kept him from towering over the small child. She stared up at him and simply raised her arms, entrusting Feladara to lift her from the ground without protest. His heart ached at the sight of her twisted ankle, the bruises on her leg. Fingerprints. He bit back a snarl.

Scooping her into his arms, mindful of the blood staining his clothes, he walked free from the cage with the little girl's fingers clutching at his clothes. Her small face buried against his neck.

As much as his heart warmed with seeing Feladara cradling a tiny injured elvhen girl, one who buried her face in his chest andrested for the first time in days, maybe weeks, Ataashi couldn't help but smile at the oldest children, at how they leapt to play their part. He knew which pen they had been in. They were too old to be of much use, they'd have too many memories of their lives before. They'd be too hard to condition. They had been destined to be fodder. The youngest would have been sold into households, young enough to mold into good servants. That left the last cage, those intended for the brothels. He observed them as he moved toward it. The pen contained more girls than boys. When they were properly grown they would be great beauties. Even now, most of them just barely into their adolescence, they were striking.

They looked more wary than any of the others. They had likely seen some rough use during travel. Any doubt he had of that was erased when he saw the venom in those eyes. Too young to be so jaded. Angry, not scared. And who was he? Not one of them, they could tell that just by looking. Just another shem. Not to be trusted.

Feladara saw the poison, saw the anger and the hate and knew nothing Ataashi said would make these children leave that cage. No trust to be found for the man who looked the same as their captors. The same as every other shemlen who would use and abuse them for the rest of their lives. He couldn't offer them more kindness than what Ataashi already had, Feladara knew this. But he could offer something else.

"Da'len." He whispered to the little girl clinging so tightly. "I'd very much like to introduce you to my friend. I'm sure he gives the best hugs, if you ask nicely." He felt her nod against his neck. "I'm going to ask him to hold you for a little bit now, okay?" Another nod, a slight shift and then she was watching him from the corner of her deep brown eyes.

"Can you take her for a moment?" He glanced up at Ataashi.

Ataashi nodded lifting the girl into his arms and snuggling her close. No words for Feladara, only a grateful smile, tinged with regret. And then he moved away from the cage to join the children who had already been freed, and to give his partner room to work. Though he stayed close enough to hear, just in case he was needed. The children closed ranks around him, gathering close.

Precious burden safely tucked in Ataashi's arms, Feladara turned to that last pen. Several glares flashed back out at him, rage and fear in equal measure.

"Mistrust will keep you safe, Anger keep you alive." He flicked back his hood, watching their poison-filled gazes lock on to the site of his pointed ears. "But sometimes we've got to take a bit of a risk on someone to get a chance to do more than just be alive. Did you see what I did to those slavers?"

"You killed them." One girl said, a smile started to lift the corners of mouth.

"Damn right I killed them." Feladara grinned. "So you don't trust my friend. I'm not surprised. You see shem and think threat. But for a little while, do you think you could try trusting me? I'll get you somewhere safe, somewhere other than this pile of shit city after that and you can decide from then on who you'll trust and who you'll stick a blade through their ribs."

And just like he'd hoped, one by one, they slowly came out of the pen. Still refusing to get too close to Ataashi but Feladara counted it a win all the same. He cast his eyes over the gathered group, gaze falling on the man standing heads taller than everyone there and smiled.

"Let's get you all somewhere safe."

The route they'd taken followed some of the less reputable streets in the city. They were, however, remarkably clear. No criminals, no peddlers, not a soul actually. It seemed Feladara wasn't too bad at planning himself. They'd walked the avenues side by side, a gaggle of children trailing around and behind. He'd carried the little elf girl in his arms the entire way, nuzzled into his chest and fast asleep. Feladara's contact, a dark skinned elf with a shock of brilliant white hair, unfamiliar Vallaslin and a greatsword as tall as he had swept her from Ataashi's arms not long after they'd arrived. Feladara assured Ataashi that, despite his severe expression, the little one would be more than safe in his care. Those words and the small, warm smile tugging crooked on the white-haired elf's lips eased Ataashi's concern. Hearing the children were destined for the Free Marches, aboard a pirate ship of all things, had that spike of concern returning. With a snort of laughter from Feladara and a huff from the white-haired elf, he was assured once again that the children would be more than safe on the particular ship - her captain having smuggled former and soon to be slaves from Tevinter for over a year now - on and off. Not to mentioned the white-haired elf would be along for the journey - apparently not staying in Tevinter.

Elvhen warriors and pirate captains - Feladara kept interesting company, that was for certain.

With the children safe in the care of Feladara's contacts, they'd returned to the streets, walking side by side along the docks.

There was no denying the night had been a success. A ring foiled, blood mages eliminated, he'd even retrieved the mage-breakers and his daggers. All and all he was out a single throwing knife, two bags of ash, and the tricks of his sleeves needed to be re-set. Remembering all the little faces bobbing around him he couldn't help but feel any loss would have been worth this large a gain.

Of course, there were still many questions. Things he needed to know, papers he needed to read. Those were for another time. "So where are we on the buying drinks tally?" he asked casually, favoring Feladara with a gleaming smile. Maker, but he felt a little drunk already. "I owe you one for the fire mage, but I have the papers…"

"For now." Feladara smirked. "The night is young and unless you have to dash away to wherever it is you go, I've got plenty of opportunity and very clever hands."

Ataashi felt a little thrill at those words and then the answering amusement and affection through the bond. It was followed quickly by exasperation and a sensation of trying to explain something, calmly, to a particularly stupid child. It seemed Dorian was still engaged. They had the masquerade to get to, and Ataashi still had the cut on his palm to deal with, but the night was young. Most of these soirees didn't start until quite late. And this was a big one. It would likely not even begin until the witching hour.

"Home," Ataashi said slowly. "That's where I dash away too. Though I could be tempted to have a drink. No need to wait for me to be inebriated before putting your clever hands to work."

"Home?" Feladara's voice held a strange quality, something tugging at the playful tone and lending it an edge he wasn't sure the elf intended. "Must be nice. Not many assassins I know have much of a home to return to."

Ataashi reached out to touch Feladara's shoulder, squeezed it gently and smiled at him. An attempt to convey something too complicated for words - part apology, part sympathy, part appreciation for his strength. And part promise.

"At any rate," Feladara didn't shrug the hand from his shoulder but it was a near thing, even if his lips quirked in one of those brief flickers of a smile. Ataashi didn't take the tension bunching muscles to heart. "A drink before you dash off to wherever you call home and do whatever it is you do when you get there."

"These days," Ataashi chuckled, letting his hand drop, "I feel more like me when I'm running the streets with you than I do at home. So yes, I think I'd like that drink."

"Two dates and you're saying sweet nothings already." Feladara's smirk was a wicked, mischievous thing. "Are you so easily seduced, my friend?"

Ataashi pressed his hand to his chest and tried his best to affect a scandalized tone. "I am not that type of fellow, I assure you. I have a strict three date rule before any hanky panky."

"Does the drink count as our third date? You do seem eager to put my 'clever hands to work'. I'd hate to deny you after such a dashing rescue earlier." A pause, the amusement dancing in his eyes sharpening, an intense gaze that had Ataashi quashing the urge to squirm. "Why did you come back? I'd led you into a situation that was clearly more than either of us expected. You should have cut your loses and run. I'd half expected you already had."

Something about the way the elf said it had him expecting it was a little more than half. "And leave you there?" he asked, brow furrowing. "I couldn't do that. You were counting on me."

"And that's all it takes? You give your world and no matter what you keep it?" Disbelief coloured every word, Feladara shaking his head. "You're a rare creature if that's the case. Especially in this blighted place."

"Well, no," Ataashi smirked. "Not no matter what. Only when someone deserves it." The light was so dim in this corner of the city, mostly illuminated by the candlelight filtering through people's homes, but there was enough to see by. And more than enough to observe the elf. The question had been set as a throw away, a quip, a bit of cleverness but that only underscored its importance. "You didn't leave me on the docks when I'd fumbled into more danger than I could handle. I'm not about to leave you when I'm supposed to have your back, Feladara."

He didn't say the rest. Didn't tell him his loyalty, once earned, was nearly unbreakable. Didn't tell him the people who meant something to him could ask him for anything. He'd probably read too much into that, be unnerved by the intensity of it. No, Feladara wasn't quite one of those people yet - Maker, he didn't even know his true name - but he was on his way.

Feladara huffed out a laugh, something akin to exasperation tangled with his amused disbelief. "Loyalty. What a novel concept." He reached out and Ataashi felt the sharp jab of a long finger into his side. "Nope. You feel real. I didn't just dream you up."

Ataashi broke into a fit of giggles. He couldn't help it. "Oh, oh maker, Feladara," he gasped out in between mirthful laughs. "Oh, if I'm the man of your dreams you are in so, so much trouble."

"Haven't you worked it out yet, Da'isenatha?" And oh the wicked promise in those eyes sent Ataashi's stomach swooping. "I liketrouble."

Ataashi stopped dead in his tracks, heart beating a little more quickly than it ought to have been. "Oh," he breathed out. "I… um…. I guess I hadn't worked it out?" He was feeling a bit light-headed now, could feel his palms sweating under his gloves.

"Well, let me make it clear." The elf slipped right into Ataashi's personal space, eyes hooded as he began to slide his palms up over the soft leather of his vest. Maker, surely Feladara could feel the jackrabbit of his pulse thudding beneath the smooth press of those clever hands, the teasing walk of fingers as they traced over stitching and clasps. His breath rushed out, shaky as the elf rose up on tiptoes, looking for all the world like he was about to steal a kiss. He could feel the puff of breath against his lips as Feladara spoke. "I. Like. Trouble."

"I-I…" he swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing with the effort. The smallest space separated them. Desire, hot and primal pooled in his stomach deactivating the higher functions of his brain. A chill he could not blame on the cold of the night set his body shivering. The bond thrummed with curiosity and answering arousal. His palm rested on the elf's narrow hip as he blinked dumbly down into those beautiful, captivating eyes and he found he was incapable of pulling away. Dorian was going to kill him with teasing if the elf kissed him.

But, Maker, would it ever be worth it.

"Ataashi." Feladara's voice dipped into a low burr, lips so close Ataashi could almost feel the brush of them against his own. "What have I told you about getting flanked?"

And suddenly the elf was gone, dancing backwards and brandishing a bundle of papers just out of Ataashi's reach. With a burst of bright laughter he started jogging backwards, taunting with every single wave of his hand. "It's so good to know you can be flanked just as easily from the front as the back, Da'isenatha!"

He blinked, shaking his head until his brain started working again. A great rolling laugh pulled from him as he prepared to give chase. "Brat!" he bellowed, his amused, delighted words echoing down the quiet street. He started chasing after, knowing he couldalmost close the gap if he tried hard enough. "Insufferable brat!" The words had never felt less like an insult.

"Are you disappointed I didn't follow through?" Feladara called back, making for the tavern as Ataashi gave chase. "The night is still young, remember!"

"A little bit," Ataashi grumbled to himself. Not that he'd admit it to the rapscallion who stole his hard-earned intel. "You're buying me two drinks!" he shouted instead and shoved that fluttering in his stomach aside.

"And by the time you catch up, I'll have already drunk both!"

"One man, two drinks?" He pushed harder, gap nearly closed. "Seems a little greedy." A sudden pang of guilt as the words hit home was instantly met by Dorian's soothing touch, plucking the string of their connection and his frown became a smile. From across the city his lover was letting him know all was well. Easing his conscious. "I suppose you can dream big." He caught up, pulling alongside the svelte, impish man and throwing him a wink.

"After all, who are we without our dreams, Da'mis?"

Feladara stared down into the dregs of the piss-weak ale sloshing in the bottom of his mug, swirling the pale liquid back and forth. Ataashi had not long since left, scurrying off home to do whatever it was he did after he'd played assassin all night. Later than he'd expected to leave, if the hasty dash out the door and the mouthful of apologies for the abrupt departure was anything to go by. Whatever distraction Feladara and the trappings of assassin provided from the mundanity of Ataashi's life, it apparently had a time limit. He threw back the last of the ale with a single gulp and a grimace, slamming the mug down with a hollow thud.

He signalled for another drink, the serving girl - Cora - winking as she set it down beside him and he offered her a small smirk in return. His coin was always good here and the barkeep didn't mind him running a tab. Anyone willing to drink the swill he sold was welcomed with open arms. Almost.

Feladara lifted the mug. Another swig, another grimace. Another long moment contemplating the swirl of the watered down, sorry excuse for ale.

His information hadn't prepared him for the reality of the man. Every piece of it needed revision, a lot of it tossed aside all together, after just an evening spent in Ataashi's company. He'd expected an assassin, new and a bit fumbling, but an assassin all the same. But Ataashi? Ataashi was no assassin. Ataashi played at being an assassin. He wore the title like a costume, like a mask. Fumbling skills Feladara could easily explain away - a simple rogue's prowess turned to darker purpose became ungainly, unfamiliar. They could feel as foreign as the first time your hand closed around a dagger hilt. Even the most skilled could find themselves stumbling blindly once again.

Feladara smirked around the rim of his mug. Ataashi was certainly skilled, of that he had absolutely no doubt. To watch him move, power and grace in equal measure, was a feast for the eyes Feladara would not soon forget. And yet…

It was more than fumbling skills, more than the clever masks and crafted personas. Ataashi possessed a quality Feladara had never seen in any assassin he'd encountered before. A quality Ataashi seemed in no hurry to rid himself of.

He didn't want to kill. More than that, he chose not to kill. Even when he held the life of a slaver in his hands, when it would be cleaner, tidier to take his life Ataashi set him loose. Showed mercy where Feladara - where any assassin worth their salt - would have none. And Feladara didn't know what to do with that. Of course, looking back at it now the manner in which Ataashi chose his targets followed this same pattern. Many assassins had their own agenda but they didn't turn down other, paying work for its pursuit. Ataashi only chose targets if he had proof they deserved to die. He demanded their Slates. Assassins didn't ask for anything as trivial as evidence. They asked for a mark and their payment. They were the tools of death - the reason for it was arbitrary.

Feladara huffed, settling the mug on the table as he lost himself further to his thoughts.

Respect….respect was just something Feladara hadn't accounted for and surprisingly he found a great deal of it welling as he thought of how Ataashi behaved. He was...good. Kind, compassionate and yet firm, fair with an edge of darkness that he wielded with surety and yet he seemed free from its taint. And he was clever, for all of Feladara's teasing to the contrary he could recognise brilliance when he was in the presence of it and Ataashi's tactical mind was brilliant. Clever, compassionate andgorgeous. Feladara shook his head with a wry smile. For all the man was a frustration, a question and a complication, he was verypretty to look at.

And yet...it wasn't this that unsettled Feladara. Respect was surprising but not overly concerning. Attraction was a fun distraction and easily dealt with. What made him nervous was the ease of their comradery. How quickly he'd made the decision to trust Ataashi to have his back when all logic, all reason told him he'd been left abandoned. How he'd been so wrong when Ataashi had swooped in and proven his trust had been placed correctly. Loyalty. He'd not expected that either. More than finding him attractive, now Feladara found he genuinely liked the man. When he'd fully expected not to. And that...that was dangerous. Genuine regard coupled with attraction for a potential threat never ended well.

Months gathering intel, of formulating an idea of the man and a plan to deal with him only to have it shattered to pieces in one evening.

Feladara shook his head, lifting his mug and throwing back his ale with several long pulls before setting the empty tankard down. He pushed back from the small wooden table in the corner he'd come to think of his own, for how often he sat at it, leaving the din of his shadowed little hole in the wall behind. Pausing to slide coin over the bar to pay for his drinks, he stepped out into the night air.

He'd have to start fresh, take into account everything he'd learned tonight. When the memory of Ataashi's warm laughter had faded, when the lingering smile at the remembered sound of it had disappeared. When he could forget, for that brief moment, the heat of desire that flared to life - hot and undeniable between them. How Feladara, intending only to seduce to steal away those papers, had almost lost himself in the want to actually slant his mouth over those waiting lips. He could start again when his head was clear and back on task. But for now, now Feladara needed to retire for the night.

He'd get more answers in the morning.

Elvhen Translations - Thanks to Project Elvhen

Fen'harel ver na - Dread Wolf take you

Lasa adahl su nar masa - Shove a tree up your arse

Su an'banal i'ma - To the Void With You.

* Feladara has a very dirty mouth on him, if you hadn't already guessed *winks*

Notes:

And so our delightful Assassin duo, scourge of slavers everywhere, have their first real outing together! Is it the beginning of a beautiful friendship? A torrid love affair? Feladara and Ataashi's Excellent Adventure? Or perhaps our Elvhen spy is up to something a lot more sinister. Are Dorian and Fitzwilliam going to have yet another problem to deal with?

We know and you'll find out. Eventually. *wicked grin*

This is my first opportunity to formally say hi to all the people who've been reading this awesome fic. Hi! I'm Eclectify and I will be your Co-Author this evening. If you'd like to hear the specials or see the wine list, please let me know. *winks*

I'm excited to be doing my first posting and first author's note on Redeemers - almost as much as I am to now be co-writing it! I hope you're all enjoying my addition to the series. I know it's been an absolutely amazing story in RikkiTikkiCathy's hands and I only hope to help her keep writing such awesome words. This chapter was the first one I really had a big hand in writing so I hope you enjoyed it!

And next time, I'll remember to post on time *grins*

~3 Eclectify