The path downstream and along the rocky shore of the wooded lake took them about three miles out of the way, and they were obnoxious miles. The woods thinned out closer to where they had entered the forest, and even Pigeon got confused and turned around on more than one occasion. They were ultimately saved by Morrigan - in raven form again - alighting on Ten's shoulder and saying 'you've been walking in circles for two hours, idiots' and showing them the way.

"I thought you people were supposed to be good at this," Alistair grumbled.

"I thought we established you don't get to say that anymore," Zevran countered.

"I thought we established I am not a part of this. My ancestors were probably accountants," Ten concluded.

"They were probably diplomats, and that's why we're in the position we're in," Zevran said.

"Fine, you go convince the keeper to put himself at the mercy of the werewolves, and I'll sit around at camp getting drunk and staring at people's behinds," Ten said.

"Oh, come on, Ten," Alistair pointed out, "You're the only one here with a father, I think you're actually qualified on this count. You must know how to get one over on an old man."

"You don't want me pulling out those tricks. It'll set relations back a hundred years," Ten said.

"Well in the context of what's going on here, that is not such a long time," Zevran pointed out.

They reached camp after the sun had set but before the night had set in in earnest. A glance out to the lake told them that the keeper had retaken his position on the island. "How does he get there, anyway?" she asked, sitting down heavily by the fire.

"Not entirely sure," Wynne said, "I've been watching him. He just sort of… appeared there. There's something off about him."

"Is that a thing? Can mages just like… teleport over long distances?"

"Not that I know of. But the magic they do out here is not studied at the Circle. Morrigan, is that something you're familiar with?"

"I have heard of such a thing," Morrigan said, "But only in legend. The sort of power you would need to just transport yourself physically via the Fade is not something that one gains in one lifetime. Then again, there are many ways for a mage to live beyond her… I mean his time." She looked pointedly at Wynne.

"That would explain a lot," Ten said, "What's the longest you know of a mage living with a… passenger?"

"It's not studied," Wynne said, her voice tight and clipped, "For good reason. Could you imagine if mages were able to just go around, taking in spirits, willy nilly? For the promise of longevity? What a disaster that would be."

"Well spirits are immortal, so theoretically, it could be forever," Morrigan said, "Depending on the passenger."

"So you think that's it," Zevran said, "He picked up a spirit somewhere along the way and it is extending his life to centuries?"

"Well, the wolf did say the secret was spite," Ten said, "There's rage demons and sloth demons… is there such a thing as a spite demon, Alistair?"

"Not that I know of, but I think we've established I was not an attentive pupil."

"I really, really want to see what he's doing in there," Ten said, crossing her arms.

"I said no," Wynne declared.

"So actually, it occurred to me today that I think I could help you with that," Morrigan said, "There are ways to fling even a layperson into the Fade with the right… tricks."

"Well it's obviously possible, it's happened to me before," Ten said, "I spent a good who knows how long stranded in the worst parts of my subconscious because a demon thought it would be a grand idea back at the Circle Tower."

"This would be a good deal safer than that," Morrigan said, "But all I know is that it can be done. I don't know how to do it."

"I have not heard of such a thing," Wynne said, "What are you talking about?"

"Well of course they don't let you do it," Morrigan said, "There is a world of magic out there and those within the Circle get only the tiniest taste."

"I still have copious amount of lyrium powder stashed somewhere around here…" Ten said.

"You what?!" Alistair exclaimed.

"What, did you think I was just going to leave it down there? Shit's expensive!"

"And dangerous! Tell me you haven't been handling it with your bare hands," he insisted.

"Relax, it's in a jar wrapped in several layers of cloth," Ten said, "Anyway, who knows when Wynne or Morrigan is going to need it."

"That's not it," Morrigan corrected, raising her voice, "Though if I help you I will expect a cut of it."

"But you just said you don't know how," Ten said, narrowing her eyes, wondering what the witch's game was this time.

"I don't," Morrigan said, "But I know who does. And I know where she keeps that knowledge."

"You're not seriously suggesting we're going to go waltzing in to your mother's house and demand her secrets," Alistair said.

"We're not," Morrigan said, "Teneira is. And she's not going to ask. She's going to take."

"Take what, exactly?" Ten asked.

"It's a grimoire, bound in black leather - it's probably human skin if I'm being honest. It's kept in the attic in a chest that is… probably also covered in human skin."

"How do you know it's in there?"

"Because that's where all the forbidden secrets are," Morrigan said, "The rituals the Chantry won't let the Circle mages learn."

"So let me get this straight, you want me to steal from an eldritch being of indeterminate origin and vast arcane power that would have absolutely no problem in vaporizing me where I stand?" Ten asked.

"She won't. That's why nobody else is going. She seems to think you're part of some ridiculous prophecy, far be it from me to explain or understand. But, the reason I bring this up is that I suspect we have at our fingertips means to effectuate this without her even knowing you're there. You actually observed it yourself, back at the start of this little mess."

"She's got an eluvian stashed up there doesn't she," Ten said.

"She has several eluvians stashed up there. That's what occurred to me yesterday, as I was flying over a ruin not ten miles from here. I realized that I knew that landscape. I just hadn't known where it was. If my eyes do not deceive me, the counterpart to one in my mother's attic leads to what's left of a balcony. It's a matter of reaching the eluvian, stepping through it, grabbing what you need, slipping back out, and nobody's the wiser," Morrigan said, "It should take less than five minutes."

"And this… creepy book can let us go spy on strange grandpa out there?" Ten asked.

"You can walk right into his mind."

"All right I can see why the Chantry won't let Circle mages learn that one," Wynne said, "Imagine, giving anyone access to anyone else's mind when they're asleep."

"I haven't been in the heist business in years," Ten mused.

"Years! How old were you when you were in the heist business?" asked Oghren, who had been watching the conversation but not actually understanding what it meant.

"Nine."

"What did you even steal?" the dwarf asked, as though the idea that children could get up to such things was completely out of the realm of possibility in his world, "Were you knocking over candy shops?"

"Potatoes."

"What?"

"There were a couple of years where floods took out most of the wheat and corn crop in the middle of the country. When the food shortages became unbearable, there was a decree that no farmer importer or distributor could sell staples to elves until the humans had had their pick. The black marketeers had us by the throats and we kept getting sick from eating nothing but rats and fish, so me and a few of my friends and me started breaking into warehouses," Ten said, shrugging.

"Seriously, that was a law?" Alistair asked.

"Yeah ask your dad about that one," Ten said, unable to keep the a contemptuous edge out of her voice, "But in any case, heist it is. How rough is the walk to the ruins?"

"The walk is not terrible, it's the climb to the balcony that will be an issue, I suspect," Morrigan said.

"What are we talking? Cliff? Wall? Tree?"

"Wall."

"Well if it's a ruin someone probably built stairs at some point, no?"

"I'm sure there were stairs that at some point, but I doubt they're there now," Morrigan said, "I didn't look inside. You see, there's also the matter of the… occupants."

"I had a chat with the werewolves I think they'll leave us alone if we can convince them we're pulling one over on Zathrian," Ten said.

"Not werewolves," Morrigan said, "Restless… well I'd call them spirits but they are certainly corporeal."

"Can they be reasoned with?"

"I didn't try. They may be more receptive to you."

"All right. Heist," Ten said, "Who's in? We've established that what keeps the rest of you out of this forest will not bother you this time. I will do the hard part, but if there's… occupants in the ruin that can't be reasoned with, I can't fight them alone."

With the assurances that their lupine neighbors would not be a problem, Sten, Oghren, and Lelianna acquiesced to joining this time, while Wynne said she would remain at camp and keep an eye on Zathrian. After they had formulated plans, and each taken a good look at a map, they went to retire, but Ten took a walk over to the main camp, thinking to maybe get a clue or two about what exactly was going on with the Keeper.

Ten really ought to have anticipated that a group of people who had adapted to surviving in the wilderness over generations would have had spectacular night vision, but she had not thought that far ahead as she crept over to where Zathrian's tent was pitched. She had no idea where to look - where does one keep ones records when one lives out of a wagon? - but she cast an eye about, hoping to find something, anything, to clue her in as to what exactly going on.

"Hey, fuck are you doing here?"

The voice was not familiar in that she knew who it belonged to, but familiar in that she knew where it was from. She looked over, and standing about six feet from her, lightning sparking at the end of a yew wood staff, was a woman about her age. She was not one of the ones who had joined them their first night there, nor did Ten remember her from the ceremony. She wore a robe more like the ones circle mages wore, rather than the leather breeches of the hunters, and her tattoos were of a different motif. But under them, she looked dreadfully familiar.

"Sorry, I got turned around on my way back from… downstream, I have no idea where I am," she said,

"Your camp's over there. You're lucky it was you and not one of your shemlen friends."

"Sure," Ten said, "Are you from Denerim?"

The woman approached her cautiously, the light at the end of her staff going from blue-white lightning to the gentle glow of an oil lamp. The two women stood there, examining each other, light brown eyes on dark brown, trying to find the features of a childhood companion in grown women's faces.

"You were… you were the blacksmith's daughter, right? You had eight brothers and you were the only girl," the woman said, "You were always in trouble."

"Niece," Ten said, "The eight boys are my cousins. Well, seven now. Melaias died about ten years ago. You… your ma worked on the docks, right? You always wore your hair in two braids. It used to be a lot blonder. She'd always bring you smoked fish for lunch. You would trade with my cousin Soris because he always had bread. I'm sorry… I don't remember your name."

"I remember Soris. He had red hair when all his brothers were dark like you. I go by Lanaya now. I had another name… then, though. I don't remember it. Or yours."

"Teneira. What happened? Where'd you go?"

"My dad got a job with a caravansary when I seven. We spent most warm months on the road."

Without saying anything Lanaya turned and went back to her own fire about a ten yards away. Ten followed, and took the proffered seat.

Ten nodded, slowly, "And now you're here. And… important, aren't you."

"Zathrian thinks so," she said, "There's some… prejudices still, against us who do not carry the old blood."

"Mad that our people fought and theirs fled, huh," Ten said.

"Mad that we lost. You know, when I first heard the Grey Warden was an elf, I knew it was one of us," she said, cracking a smile, "I… love the Dalish, they have given me a life I could have only dreamed of in Denerim, but they are closed off. Slaves to tradition. It is one thing to lend support to a cause outside their own, it is another to leave the clan and join another order."

"So you showed up, a stranger, and now you are… what, Zathrian's apprentice?" asked Ten.

"I didn't show up. Our caravan was ambushed, I was… maybe ten. Slaughtered the rest of them. I now know that the bandits were almost certainly going to take me up to Highever and sell me to whatever slaving crew was in from the Imperium, but… they made an enemy of the wrong scout, and, well, the bandits are dead and here I am."

"But you've stayed. You're grown now. You could have left."

"And gone back to what? My parents were dead. I had no family left there," she said, "But, well… if I'd been back in Denerim the Circle would have come for me, so I suppose this was as good a place as any."

"Are all Keepers mages?" asked Ten.

"Mage is a term invented by the Chantry," Lanaya said, "It's not real."

"Well I couldn't make a staff glow like you're doing right now."

"Because you were never taught."

Ten thought fleetingly of the evening at the Circle, sounding out the syllables of an old Elvish incantation, feeling the energy shift in the room.

"I always wondered about that," Ten said, "Like, there's… different types of mages, different degrees. Some of them start manifesting when they're small, some when they're older, some in small ways, some in large."

"Exactly," Lanaya said, "That's how we teach it out here. No person is one thing or another. We all have some degree of affinity for the Fade. Just, some have more than others. 'Mage' and 'non-mage' is a totally arbitrary line the Chantry drew at some point."

"Sounds like the line between elf and human," Ten said.

"Don't say that any louder."

"I was mostly joking. Distinctions have the meaning you give them, so as long as the line is drawn, it will be important," Ten said, "And, by the Chantry's definition, you are a mage."

"The Chantry would call me a mage, yes," Lanaya said, sighing.

"So do you know what Zathrian is doing out there on the island in the lake?"

"He's communing with the land," she said.

"So he's not in the Fade."

"That's also a Chantry invention," Lanaya said, "The idea that the Fade is here and the world is there and the twain shall not meet except in extraordinary circumstances… it's much more complicated than that. So you have to tell me, is it true you're the Red Widow?"

"I suppose if that's what they're calling me," Ten said, "It's 'Vengeful Bride' everywhere else."

"You killed three men rather than let them touch you."

"I killed three men for what they did to my little cousin. But… yes, they certainly would have gotten to me too."

"What's it like? Killing a man?"

"Oh please, they weren't even the first men I killed," she said.

Lanaya's eyes were interested now.

"Who was the first?"

"I don't tell that story."

"You should tell me."

"Why?"

"Because I know Zathrian better than any living and I don't believe for a second that you got turned around coming back from relieving yourself. You were trying to spy."

"Why do you want to know about this?"

"I want to know what kind of woman is in charge of saving the world."

"I'm a murderer. That much is clear."

"Tell me."

"My… mentor and I broke into his house while he was asleep. We drugged him. I took a knife to both his eyes. Leonara - my mentor - cut out his tongue and he choked to death on his own blood while we watched."

"What did he do?"

"What do you think?"

"To you?"

"Yes."

"How old were you?"

"Fourteen. What's Zathrian's deal?"

"He's older than he looks. What did your parents say?"

"My mother died when I was four. I never told my father."

"Why not?"

"It would hurt him. How old is Zathrian?"

"Zathrian has been around since shortly after the fall of the Dales. He was one of the first to live this life. Have you killed any others?"

"Shopkeeper. I didn't mean to kill him."

"What did you mean to do?"

"Make it so he wouldn't be interested in touching any more little girls. I didn't know how much he would bleed. What's Zathrian's relation to the werewolves?"

"The werewolves are his revenge. Surely you didn't stop there."

"I didn't. There was another shopkeeper."

"What did he do?"

"Same thing but to boys. Including my husband."

"You seem to know a lot about revenge."

"I do," Ten said.

Lanaya smiled wryly, "I suspect the two of you will understand each other very well."

"But first I need to get him to talk to me."

"Patience," Lanaya said, "He'll be worn down eventually. He does not like it when shemlen are too close. He'll get sick of the lot of you being here."

"Why did you want to hear all of that?" Ten asked.

"Well, we are the daughters of the ones who fought. And I am among the ones who fled. The Dalish never stop running. I wanted to make sure that the rest of us have not stopped fighting."

"Oh I assure you, we have not."

"Good. Zathrian will come around in a day or two."