As a precaution, she hiked up her skirt and took out her small knife, which was coated in the same paralytic she'd used on Nick Standwright in Highever. Holding it in her fist, concealed beneath her cloak, she set out, heading east towards the cliffs, trying to stay out of the dim puddles of light cast by the street lamps. It was too chilly for any but those trying to get where they were headed to be out at that hour. The usual eyes on the street, the drunks, the whores, the men who grilled meat of dubious origin over open fires for the drunks and the whores, were all absent. Maybe the new Arl issued a crackdown on meat vendors. Not that rat on a skewer was ever my cup of tea, but… at least there were always witnesses.

She heard the group of young men before she saw them crest the bridge over the river. They were completely shitcanned, the lot of them, yowling a popular drinking song. There were four… five of them. In the moonlight, their dress marked them as members of the ruling class. The fear crept slowly up her spine, and she retreated into the shadows of an alley, hoping they would pass without seeing her. She was not used to walking alone at night. There was, after all, a reason she had always been cautioned against it. All the bravado that her positions - both in the city and the Grey Wardens - did not change the fact that she was an elfin woman, alone at night on a deserted street, and there was absolutely nobody there who would intervene on her behalf. She thought for a moment to go back to the Pearl and enlist the help of Dima in the front and whoever was bouncing in the back to keep her safe. But no, that was almost certainly where these lordlings were heading, and she didn't want to risk encountering them before they reached it.

The caterwauling grew closer. She gripped her knife. They had to pass the alley to get to the Pearl. She held her breath.

Up the street, a window creaked open. "Shut the fuck up, hijueputas!" an angry Antivan voice rang out.

"Do you know who my father is?!" one of them shouted.

"Yeah, who do you think you're talking to, foreigner?" one of the lordlings growled. Highever accent. Very young. Less than twenty. In the lamplight, Ten saw him start back and hurl something - a mostly empty bottle of brandy - at the window. There was a crash of glass and a series of fairly disgusting curses from inside the window. Ten was not sure of the direct translation, but it definitely involved goats and a lack of lubrication. She took the distraction, and, still keeping to the shadows, went on her way towards the east and the comparative safety of the unruly tangle of streets and alleys underneath the cliffs.

"I will call the guard!" the Antivan voice finally shouted, "You cannot get away with this!"

"Fuck the guard!" shouted one lordling.

"Yeah, fuck the guard!" the others chorused.

Well at least we agree on that much. But shit. Shit! How did I get myself into this one? Should have made Lelianna come with me. Not that she'd be safe in this situation either. All right. All right, Ten, they haven't noticed you.

She glanced back. They were still arguing under that window. She turned and concentrated on getting out of there as quickly as she could, without drawing attention to herself. From where she was, she could see the staircase that led up between buildings to where she intended to go. The roads and alleys beyond were not the orderly grid of this part of the neighborhood, but a rabbit's warren of poorly-lit alleys and staircases just as likely to lead an unsuspecting out-of-towner around in circles as to his destination. She could surely lose them there. She concentrated on the road ahead of her, walking as quickly as she could without appearing to be running.

Hope died in her breast as running footsteps came up behind her and a large hand fell on her shoulder. She froze, her mouth going dry and sweat erupting from her face and neck.

Maybe I can talk myself out of this one.

"Well well well, what have we here?!" The owner of the hand turned her around handily, and she was face to face with the mother-of-pearl buttons on a very nice, and very large shirt. She wrinkled her nose as the smell of stale brandy invaded her nostrils. Such fine clothes to be so filthy. She dared not look up.

"Ser," Ten said to the buttons on his shirt, "I'm just trying to get home. Please, take your hand off me."

Oh damn it all. Wasn't planning on killing anyone tonight. Or being killed.

"Home from where? Only place open at this hour in this neighborhood is the whorehouse."

She was silent. The hand moved from her shoulder to her head, grabbing a fistfull of the silken bonnet and some of the hair beneath. It forced her head back and she was looking up into the face of a very young man, maybe twenty but probably younger, dark hair still curling childishly around his ears, his cheek and chin as smooth as her own, still with a bit of baby fat around the edges. But the look in his eye and the sneer on his mouth indicated that he very much believed himself to be a man.

All right, Tabris, how're you getting out of this one?

"Is that what you are, a whore? Think your shift is over, eh?"

"Ser, you are really going to want to let me be on my way," she said.

"Hey look, lads!" one of the others shouted from beyond where Ten's vision was blocked by her captor, "Ser Kit's caught a mouse!"

"I dunno, she's a little thing. Don't know if she can handle all of us."

"Kristhen… come on, that's not what we're here for. Let her go."

"Why? She's an elf and she's out after curfew without an escort. She's practically begging for it!"

Nothing truly changes, does it. Left, right, front, and up were out. Back would probably just let him get a better grip on her. But down… he would not expect down. She paused for a moment to play it out in her head, and then, suddenly dropped to the ground, letting him have the bonnet and some of her hair, and stabbed right through the fine leather of his far-too-fancy shoe.

"Bitch stuck me!" Ser Kit exclaimed. He lunged for her, a cloud of her severed curls drifting down in the lamplight as he opened his hand. But, between the liquor and the venom working its way through his bloodstream, he missed, tripped, and faceplanted on the cobblestones.

Rolling out of the way, she sprang to her feet, hitched up her skirts and took off to the east, taking stairs two at a time, not daring to look behind her until she'd made it to the shadows beneath the cliff. Once there, she ducked behind a building and peeked out hesitantly. Thankfully, only one of them had bothered trying to pursue her, and he was standing at the base of the stairs, his back to her, clearly trying to decide which way she'd gone. The others were all standing around the inert form of Ser Kit, trying to decide what in the hell had happened to make him collapse in a puddle of his own piss on the street. She moved forward, ducking under a wagon that some peddler had parked at the mouth of an alleyway, in case they came after her.

She heard footsteps on the stairs and froze. It was only one of them, presumably the one who had gone this way after sniffing around the base of the stairs, concluding that this is where she went. He was walking quickly, though not running. He was also far steadier on his feet, which was a bad sign for her. One of his boots was untied - she could hear the slapping of the ends of the laces against the ground. She put her paring knife away and took out a larger one. Waited for the footsteps to approach. It was near pitch black and he almost certainly did not know there was an alley here.

When she saw the silhouette of the boot hit the cobbles before her, she lunged. She got her hands around the stray laces and yanked as hard as she could. He tumbled over, face first, breaking his fall with both fists like a man used to fighting, but before he could rise, she had sprung out and gotten a knee in the middle of his back and her blade at the side of his neck. She leaned down close.

"Quiet," she hissed into his ear, "Call your friends, you'll bleed out before they get here, and I'll be long gone. If you stay still and give me your name and title, and those of the rest of those little shits, you can walk out of here in one piece."

"Ten! It's me!" he hissed, turning his head to the side, "Would you get off me?"

"Alistair?!" she said incredulously, a very strange mix of relief and annoyance chasing the fear out of her, "What the fuck?! I told you to buy drinks and let them talk, not go on a fucking rampage with them!"

"I'll explain if you get off my back and put the fucking knife away."

She rose, and pulled him to his feet. "I hope you have a really damned good reason for all that," she said, "Also you should tie your boots. That was way too easy."

"Ten, I'm so sorry. I didn't know they were going to do that. Are you all right?"

"All in all I think you were just in more danger than I ever was," she said, "But all the same, you decided to follow a band of marauding drunk lords, what did you think was going to happen? Please tell me I'm the first girl they tried it on with tonight."

"I didn't even realize what was happening until I saw you running," he said.

"And what if it wasn't me? If it was just some random woman trying to get home, what then? Were you just going to watch?"

"Of course not, you just beat me to the punch. And what exactly is it you want?! You told me to go blend in, get them to trust me, get them to talk. And I did! And it was disgusting, thank you very much."

"Exactly! They're disgusting. And that's who's in charge of the whole country. Men like that. I'm definitely not the first mouse Ser Kit has caught."

"You were probably the first mouse that turned out to be a scorpion in disguise," Alistair pointed out, "Doubt they'll try that again."

"One can hope," Ten sighed, "But you're right, it was my idea. Where are they from anyway?"

"The big one's a knight of Highever, no surprises there, guess they're all six and a half foot brutes. Scrawny little shit's an heir to some one-horse town in the foothills. There's a second son from the Bannorn and a knight of…. Something else. Don't remember which was which."

"Did they at least let anything interesting slip?"

"It was mostly just… you know, boys' talk. There were a few tidbits in there, though."

"Like what?"

"Well they were saying that we ought to go to the Pearl and catch Bann Uthric leaving, that whatever he gets up to in there is embarrassing. He's the nephew of the Teyrn of Highever, deep in his council apparently."

"Uthric Hargothen?" asked Ten.

"Yes, why?"

"Well I know what he's up to. Apparently he likes getting beaten up by androgynous dwarven hookers. Good to know he's important," said Ten, "Actually… you might have some interest in this."

"Me? What are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything, I'm telling you that the androgynous dwarven hooker in question is married to that long-lost half brother of yours I keep teasing but can never track down," said Ten, "I've a mind to do it this time. They both certainly know secrets."

"Whoa…do I at least win the weirdest in-law contest?"

"Obviously," said Ten, "What do you want, a medal?"

"I'd settle for beating the absolute tar out of all of them," he said, glancing back to make sure they weren't being followed, "In public. Preferably with their mothers watching."

"I just made the ringleader piss himself in front of his friends, that wasn't enough?" said Ten.

"No, I want to do it. I want to see the look on their stupid smug faces," Alistair said, "But in all seriousness, Ten, I have never seen you terrified like that. Not even when there's a giant man goat thing. Are you actually all right?"

"No, of course not," she said, "But that's not the first time that's happened, actually the second in less than six months, believe it or not, and I'm sure it won't be the last. They travel in packs, you know. And they know there will never be any actual consequences."

"Wait, where's Lelianna? Wasn't she supposed to be keeping shit like that from happening?"

Ten snorted, "You think two ladies walking alone at night would be that much safer than one? Well, maybe. But either way, she got all cuntstruck over six foot two lumberjack of a working girl. I could have waited, but there's someone I'm looking for and it's getting late."

"Did it never occur to you to say 'no'? 'Not now'? 'Control yourself?'"

"It did," she sighed, "But I feel bad about shit like that. She's not like us. She's out here of her own accord, it doesn't seem fair to try to tell her she can't take what comfort she can get. Anyway, all of that is just so not my business. I just need to get to the Paloma before it gets too late."

"Wait, that's that place where your friend tends bar, right? I don't think I can show my face there again."

"Well I'm going back there, whether you come with me or not is entirely up to you."

"Come on, if you think I'm going to let you walk these streets alone after that, you're sorely fucking mistaken."

"I took care of it!" exclaimed Ten, "The only thing your presence achieved is getting a knife to your throat, which I am genuinely sorry about, by the way."

"I would have done the same in your shoes, I won't hold it against you. But tell me, what's so important at the Paloma?"

"A friend of mine has gone missing," she said, "And I have a lead on someone who may have information on where he's gotten to and has been known to frequent the place."

"What friend? How could you even tell? The Alienage is still locked down."

"Not an elf," she said. Well not technically.

"It's that guardsman, isn't it."

Of all the things this man is completely oblivious to, why is he razor fucking sharp on this?

"Mind your business," she sighed.

"That's really, really…." he paused to find the right words to describe his frustration, "It's weird of you, all right?"

"Mind your fucking business, will you?" she hissed, not wanting to raise her voice too high, "The Alienage is still locked down and since he's gone, now I have no idea who's in charge of making sure everyone I've ever loved lives or dies. And speaking of elves I don't see, what the fuck did you do with Zev?"

"He'd had enough of them after about an hour, insulted all of their mothers, threw a drink in one of their faces and headed for Maker knows where," said Alistair, seeing that he had yanked a little too hard on a raw nerve there and accepting the change of subject, "Not a skilled actor, that one."

"What did they say to him?"

"I don't want to repeat it. It was hard enough convincing them they didn't need to follow him and kick the shit out of him in the middle of the street, we don't need you rushing back there to avenge his honor. Anyway, he's a grown man and a former member of one of the most fearsome assassin's cult in Thedas, he'll be fine," said Alistair.

They had, in the intervening, reached Natharian Lin's bar - currently going by the Paloma - the only clue it was there were the guttering candles in the window. Ten pushed the door open, let it swing in and hit the wall with a crash. Nath really needs to have that repaired, she thought. Inside was much jollier and cozier than Ten remembered, peat fires and their earthy smoke lit in fireplaces at both ends of the bar room. The drunks seemed to be in better moods too. A fiddler in the corner was playing something haunting, and a couple of dwarven sailors were clogging, face to face.

"Teneira!" exclaimed Missus Bantree from behind the bar, her ruddy face lighting up, "We were just talking about you!"

"Who's we?"

"Why your charming young friend here, of course!" she said.

At the bar, Zev's head popped up from where it had been contemplating a glass of clear Elvish moonshine.

"Oh, of course it's the both of you," he sighed, registering Alistair's presence. He turned to the bartender, "Our Teneira cannot so much as take a piss without this one wondering where she's going and trying to follow her."

"Zevran, I'm sorry about earlier," said Alistair, "I couldn't do anything without ruining the whole ruse."

"I know," Zevran said mildly, "I suppose you had something to do with them not chasing me down and making me… what is the phrase… bite the curb, yes?"

"It took a bottle of the most expensive brandy they had in the place," Alistair sighed.

"Well I suppose I will thank you for that then," Zevran sighed, "I should not have lost my temper."

"You, lad," said Edwina, pointing her large hickory paddle at Alistair, "You're not touching a drop of whiskey. Small ale only. We are not having a repeat of the last time you were here."

"What'd he do?" asked Ten.

"I can't tell you. Bartender-drunk confidentiality," Edwina said.

"Alistair, what did you do?"

"I evidently blacked out sometime before you left," he said, the color rising to his cheeks, "Don't remember a thing."

"Well then, if you don't remember it, it didn't happen," Edwina said, satisfied.

"Missus Bantree," said Ten, shaking her head as though it would rid her of the second hand embarrassment, "Is Kennit Maycomb here?"

"Has been for the last few days, the poor dear," said Edwina, "Over there in the corner by the door."

Ten looked to where Edwina was pointing and, indeed, Kennit was slumped against the wall, his eyes half open.

Shit, I hope he can talk somewhat coherently.

She sidled over and sat herself across from the Kennit. One eye opened fully, then the other. He sat up straight and Ten could see that he was not, in fact, completely obliterated, and was simply taking a standard old-man nap. He started mid-snore, and looked around, "What, no! I don't need to go to bed, Maisie, I'm perfectly fine. Just resting my eyes."

"I'm not your daughter, Kennit," said Ten.

"Oh!" he said, looking around and getting his bearings, "It's you! What can I do for you, Arlessa?"

"What's going on?" she asked, "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at home by the fire? Cat in your lap?"

"I'm not dead yet, girl," he said, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm in town for a bit. But I need to know what happened," she asked, "Someone told me there was quite the shakeup in your squad."

"Shakeup! You mean they cleared us all out. Transfers for the young ones, retirement for me and the other fossil."

"I heard Machias left town," said Ten.

"He did. He doesn't have any family here, and him being a widower," said Kennit, yawning and stretching, "I suppose I don't blame him. Never thought I'd miss that ill-tempered old cunt. That's the thing about getting on in years, lass, they don't tell you that one day you'll look around and the only people left you've known your whole life are the ones you never really liked and when they're gone, you'll long for the days when you were fighting like cats and dogs."

"That won't be a problem for me," said Ten.

"Ah, yes. I forgot. I'm sorry," said Kennit.

"So Machias retired. Where's Jochrim Stillpass?"

"He was offered a position in the queen's personal guard," said Kennit.

"He still live in the flat over by the docks?" asked Ten.

"No," said Kennit, "With the higher wage he moved up in the world, he's got a cottage outside the walls now. Seems his wife wanted a garden."

"Not a great time to move outside the walls, is it," Ten mused, "But Berthilde was always a girl who knew how to get what she wanted. What about Lieutenant Villais?"

Kennit began shaking his head vigorously, "Don't ask about him."

"Why not?"

"Just don't, if you value your hide. Asking too many questions is what got him where he's at now, and I don't think you want that."

"What in our long history leads you to believe I value my hide?" asked Ten.

"Well you might not, but I sure do value mine," said Kennit, "I didn't live as long as I have to wind up strung up from a tree."

"He got lynched?!" Ten exclaimed, her voice going shrill and her heart leaping into her mouth. That is probably what would happen if he were caught. Don't be surprised now, Ten, he's not the first lad you've lost that way. Not even the first this year…

"No, no," said Kennit, "Nothing so vulgar. He's alive, as far as I know, but that is all I will say."

"Where? Did he have to leave town?"

"That is all I will say."

"Who's patrolling the Alienage then?" asked Ten.

"Private security," Kennit said, "I don't know where the order came from, but someone decided that the four of us were too sympathetic to the people we were supposed to be policing and brought in some foreign outfit to take over security in the quarter. Tevinter, I think."

"They brought in Tevinter mercenaries to police elves?!" Ten said, incredulously. Talk about adding insult to injury.

"Making a point with it, I don't doubt," said Kennit, "After all, the elves did manage to wipe out the whole Urien clan."

"Allegedly," Ten sighed, "I'm still not convinced that was us. What a mess, though."

"You're telling me. I told the Captain it was a bad idea. Privately I think he agreed with me, but he said it came from far, far above his head. He couldn't do anything about it."

"Kennit, when's the last time you saw my dad?"

"Listen, lass, there was never an elf so good at putting his head down and getting on about it as your dad. Worry about that hot-tempered cousin of yours."

"Which one?"

"All of them," said Kennit, "It's bad business all around."

"Shit," sighed Ten, "All right. I won't implicate you any further. But you should take up a different hobby, don't you think? Have you considered model ships?"

"Both my daughters have said the same thing daily, I don't need it from you too," Kennit groused, "Let an old man drink in peace."