Ten whirled, but there was nobody behind them that could have said that. She looked to her left and right, and up to see if, again, someone was shouting at her from a tree, though the odds of that happening twice in one morning were likely quite low. Nothing. Then she looked down and saw a fairly large, but otherwise standard-looking rat, sitting on its hindquarters. It chittered at her. Then it stretched out its front paws, and began to shift and lengthen out, until Morrigan was standing there, her arms crossed and a smirk on her face.

"How long were you listening?" asked Ten.

"I've been following since you jumped off that balcony," said Morrigan.

"Have you just been running around as a rat since we got here?" asked Ten, genuinely curious.

"Well they outnumber humans, dwarves, and elves combined, so it seemed like the most logical way to see the city like a native," she said.

"I guess I can't argue with that," Ten shrugged.

"What I am having trouble with," Morrigan continued, "Is that you keep telling me that the dirty books aren't real, that nothing like that ever happens, and yet here you are, running all over town with your tits half out."

"We can still see less of my tits than we can of yours, and you seem to consider that fully clothed," Ten countered.

"Wait…" Morrigan said, looking from one of them to the other, her eyes narrow, "The two of you didn't…."

"Ugh! No!" Ten exclaimed, "Don't be gross."

"I will endeavor not to take that personally," Zev said, "And if you must know, the night was quite standard. It was the morning that was absolutely terrifying. I should have remembered what notorious mama's boys Orlesians are. Come on, let's get back before we're missed."

Having caught her breath and slowed her heartrate, Ten took off in the direction of camp, fiddling with the laces on her bodice, trying to get them re-done without inadvertently exposing herself to everyone else outside the gates. The witch, however, did not show any signs of minding her business.

"So, tell me if I've got this right," Morrigan said, walking between them and looking from one to the other, her pale eyes narrow, "Ten, you run off and spend the night with a young man in his home, all the while not realizing that Zevran has also run off to spend the night with a young man in his home, neither of you realizing that they are both brothers and neighbors. And then what? Their wives come home?"

"Worse," said Ten, "Their mother."

Morrigan blanched, no doubt thinking of what would have happened had her own mother, that creature of unknown origin and vast cosmic power, had caught her at something similar. "How… old were these brothers? If their mother is still spry enough to have you sprinting through the streets, leaping from balconies…"

"That's almost as bad as accusing me of sleeping with Zevran," said Ten, "We were not running from her at that point. Technically, elves are not currently supposed to be walking the streets unless accompanied by their human boss or a guardsmen, so by the time you found us we were running from the law."

"Ah, I see our elfin contingent has seen fit to grace us with their presence," Lelianna, who was shoveling dirt over the remnants of last night's fire, called as she saw the three of them come up the road, "And what have the two of you been up to? All night, I might add."

"Secret elf shit," said Ten.

"Secret elf shit that has the both of you running through the streets halfway undressed?" the nun asked, skeptically.

"We have many rituals that those such as you may find… bizarre," Ten replied dryly, "Anyway, like you're one to judge. I remember what you did in Redcliffe. The archer with the very well-developed back muscles."

"Oh, so all three of you are little sluts," Morrigan announced.

"Really!" Lelianna chuckled, "Him I'm not surprised at, but you, Teneira? Wait… the two of you didn't…"

"The next person who even insinuates that is getting thrown in the next large body of water," Ten said, "I have standards."

"So why is it you're both showing up at the same time and in the same state of dishevelment? I refuse to believe that is a coincidence," Lelianna said.

"Well, yes and no," said Zev, "I genuinely believe that having a preference for elves runs in certain human families. And since all the others are confined to the Alienage at the moment, we were the only two little sluts available."

"It's the mother's fault," said Ten, "She has a taste for us and won't admit it."

"Really, so why did it bother her so much?"

"Shockingly, you can be attracted to someone and have absolutely no respect for them whatsoever. In fact," said Ten, looking around conspiratorially, "Downstairs brother's a halfbreed."

"Ahhh," Zev said, "She has probably been trying to keep that one under wraps for his whole life. He must pass well."

"I swear most of these shem have no idea what to look for," she said.

"You clocked him right away, didn't you."

"I did," she said.

"Did you blackmail him?" asked Zev.

"Why would you say such a thing?" she asked.

"Oh I don't know, you seem like someone who would take another's dangerous secret and use it to your utmost advantage."

"You have no idea how many dangerous secrets I know," she said.

"Is that a thing?" asked Morrigan, "People who are both human and elfin?"

"Well we've just demonstrated how it can happen. At least I did. I admit I have never heard of an elfin man getting a human man pregnant," said Ten.

"Not for lack of trying, of course," Zev said.

"And the Chant teaches us all things are possible with faith," Ten added, "Right, Sister?"

"I… don't think that's in the Chant," Lelianna said.

"But to answer your question," said Zev, "Yes, it is fairly common. More common than most of you think."

"And the children of these… unions," said Morrigan, "What do they look like?"

"Most are a true mix. Features from both sides. But, there are some, who just look like you, and some who just look like me. You'd never even know."" said Ten, "And let's be honest, most of us have at least one human in the woodpile. They're really not good at keeping their hands off us."

"In Orlais," offered Lelianna, "It is not even controversial. Many nobles keep elves as companions!"

Zev and Ten turned their heads to her in unison, incredulous that she would say something like that out loud.

"Did she just honestly say that?" asked Zev.

"You do see how that's worse, right?" Ten asked slowly.

Lelianna shrank, "I… but they live lives of luxury. Wear the finest clothes. Eat the finest foods. They are considered pleasing to look at... it's a compliment!"

"I'm going to walk away before I hit you and bring the wrath of the Maker down upon myself," said Ten.

"Me too, though I do not fear the Maker," said Zev, "I would hate to damage that pretty face, Sister, but… that was horrifically offensive."

"I don't understand!" the nun protested.

"You don't understand that you can't just own people?" Ten demanded, "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"I'm sorry," said Lelianna, "I didn't realize that was such a bad thing to say. After all, both of you just…"

Ten sighed, rubbing her temples, "Look, if Zev or I want to jump into bed with one of… you people, because we want to, because it's fun, whatever… that's one thing. It's entirely another to be kept in a cage. Have no choice whose hands go on us."

"I do not say no often," said Zevran, his face darkening, "But when I do, I really prefer that it is respected."

"I need a bath," said Ten, "I mean, I did before, but… now I feel extra filthy."

"I saw the state of that river," Zev breathed, "Are you sure that won't make it worse?"

"Well better we smell like a nation's worth of farm runoff than a couple of Orlesian bastards," said Ten. She walked through camp and north to where the Drakon River fell in a series of pools before flowing under the grate in the wall. There were ten or twenty refugees washing their clothes in one pool, but two up was unoccupied, and could have been dirtier, all things considered.

"True," said Zev, following her, "And they do smell different than us, don't they."

"Right? I don't know what it is. It's not… bad per se, it's just… you can definitely tell the difference."

Ten was actually quite impressed how much cleaner the river was to the west of the city. Not exactly a pristine mountain spring, but it would do, and she had, in the few days of peace they experienced on the road, had time to cobble together something resembling soap from ashes and cooking grease - with a hefty dose of honeysuckle to hide the animal fat smell. Scrubbed of anything she did not wish to discuss further with her companions and fully clothed, she got back to camp and started packing up her things. Sometime during the previous day or night, it appeared that someone - Wynne probably - had both gotten into her soap and her pets, as Pigeon, for once, did not smell of carrion and Jenny's red coat shone in the morning sunlight.

"Wish we could have stayed longer?" Wynne asked sympathetically, catching Ten staring up at the walls.

"What I wish has very little to do with anything," she said, "Why, what did you get up to?"

"An old apprentice of mine runs a shop in the district. I caught up with him."

"Wait…" Ten said, "The man who runs that magic trinkets store? Five eight, fiftyish, kind of balding?"

Wynne nodded, "The same."

"But he's… oh Wynne," she sighed, "That must have been difficult."

"It took me years to stop seeing the Tranquil as personal failures," she said, "But there is peace in it. And I hear you have quite a few friends in town."

"I am… well-connected, as those of my stature go," said Ten, "We at the bottom of the social ladder do have our own networks, of course."

Sten's shadow fell upon them before either saw him, "We are wasting time."

"I'm not holding us up," said Ten, "Say, what did you do while we were here?"

"I went to the theater," said Sten.

"You what?" Wynne exclaimed.

"I seek to understand your culture. And so, I went to the theater. I have heard that play-acting is a way in which your people tell their epic tales."

"I am almost afraid to ask… what epic tale did you see?" asked Ten.

"The Adventures of Bodric the Bear," said Sten, "It was a stirring saga of an anthropomorphic cub, whom I believe to represent the indomitable spirit of victory, who sought to defeat a demon of winter which I believe to be a metaphor for the cold that dwells within all of our souls. I found it both emotionally satisfying, and enlightening."

"Sten, tell me something," said Ten, "Were there… actors? On a stage?"

"There were but two actors, but they made cunning use of miniature props, each playing multiple parts," said Sten.

"So….puppets?" Ten asked.

"I do not know that word."

"And, the rest of the audience, were they, maybe… very small?" asked Wynne.

"All of you are very small," said Sten, "Tell me, do you know where I might purchase a copy of this epic poem? I wish to present it to the Arishok."

"I will certainly let you know if I come across one," said Ten, "Now, what exactly is holding us up?"

"Well…" Wynne said, glancing over at Alistair's tent.

"Of course," sighed Ten.

"He stumbled in at around midnight, said something about how everyone hates him, went to be sick in the bushes over there, and then… well… I haven't had the heart to wake him."

"I was waiting for permission from you before dispensing the requisite beating," said Sten.

"That won't be necessary, though I appreciate the offer," Ten closed her eyes and sighed again, "If Duncan had told me at the start that I would be fighting more battles with his favorite apprentice's psychological demons than the damn darkspawn I'd have let them hang me."

"You do do most of that to yourself, you realize," said Wynne, "Are you the eldest sister in your family, by chance?"

"Sort of," said Ten, "Only child, but lots of cousins."

"But you are the oldest girl."

"Yes," she said, "And I don't have time to unpack all that, we are wasting daylight at this point. And summer, if Lelianna's geographical knowledge is to be trusted." She went through her things, and was grateful for her continuously keeping up with her ad hoc pharmacy. Then she found a rock, squared off, and hurled it where she could see the shape of a back against the canvas of the tent.

"Whoever did that, you have about five seconds to run," Alistair's muffled voice came from inside, followed quickly by the rest of him. "Oh… it is midmorning already," he said, squinting at the sky. He looked exhausted, his eyes bloodshot and his face a shade of gray Ten was not used to.

"I'm going to have a word with Missus Bantree about respecting other bartenders' cutoffs," said Ten, "You look like shit."

"Good morning to you too," he said, "Do you remember how I got here?"

"Nope," said Ten.

"But weren't we drinking?"

"You were drinking."

"Are you angry at me?"

"I don't have the energy to be angry at you."

"Well you threw a rock at me, told me I look like shit, and now you're not speaking to me. Did I say something to you I shouldn't have?"

"You sure did," she said, "But we don't have time to unpack all that either, so we will take down your tent and gather your things because you really need to go wash yourself and change your clothes before I can in good conscience ask anyone to walk too close to you."

"Oh no. What did I say?"

"I don't want to get into it. You can apologize by… not smelling like you do right now. And drink this, it'll help the headache." She tossed a flask at him, which he fumbled for a moment before catching, then squinted at before drinking, and took off to the riverside.

"What did he say?" asked Wynne conspiratorially as they got to work on the tent.

Ten chuckled, "I ran into an… old boyfriend who happens to be on the force, Alistair somehow spun that into me hiking my skirts up for anyone in a uniform. Took a few jabs at that. It was juvenile, really, just uncharacteristically nasty. It didn't feel like the usual banter."

"Well he's jealous, obviously," said Wynne.

"We definitely do not have time to unpack any of that, in fact, let's burn that whole trunk."

"But really Teneira, you? And a guardsman?" exclaimed Wynne.

"Don't you start too," said Ten.

"But you're a… well I suppose the heart wants what it wants," said Wynne, "And I imagine it was quite a risk for the young man in question. He must have cared for you a great deal."

"It hardly matters now," said Ten, "It's not like I can marry again. I'm looking at another decade or two of running around the ass end of the nation chasing hellacious monsters and then slowly falling to bits in the bowels of the earth."

"And if the stories are correct, Alistair is going to be the only one going through the same things. Maybe consider being a little bit nicer to him."

"Maybe he should consider minding his business and shutting the fuck up on occasion," said Ten.

"Now who's being nasty," Wynne observed.

"Thanks for washing the dog, Wynne," said Ten, "I know you mean well, but this conversation is over."

About an hour hence, all of their things packed, they set off down the high road.

"We should take the north road," Sten said, "I heard in town that there is fighting in… what is the name for the moorlands to the sound and west of here?"

"The Bannorn," said Ten, "And you're right. We don't need to get caught up in fighting if we can avoid it."

"Or bagpipes," Alistair said, "The Bannorn armies like to play bagpipes when they march. It is truly fearsome. And annoying."

"Well at least we can hear them a long while off," said Ten, "We can take the road to Highever, cut south along the west shores of Lake Calenhad. Should keep us clear of both darkspawn and bagpipes. I've… been meaning to stop by Highever anyway."

"I have business in Highever as well," Alistair said, "Shouldn't take too long. I second this motion."

"What business do you have in Highever?" asked Lelianna, "I've heard all they have there is fish and fog."

"Personal," said Ten.

"Same," said Alistair.

They looked at each other suspiciously, each trying to figure out what the other's business was.

"It shouldn't take more than a couple of hours," said Ten, "But either way it's a good week's journey. No sense in losing the light."