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Anders caught up, but walked several paces behind me, giving me the space to think. Finally he called out, "I can't keep up this pace. If you're going to leave me, let me know, but in either case, I need a rest."

The guilt slammed into me. He was weak and troubled, had hardly been eating or sleeping, and I was marching ahead like a Qunari on campaign. I paused, turned to him, and said, "I'm sorry. But I still don't have an answer. Come, let us sit and eat."

The grass was soft and fragrant, spring green staining our worn robes. I lay back, my hands crossed on my chest, staring into the canopy of the oaks above us. I really didn't want to stop. I needed to be moving. If I were honest with myself, I needed to kill something to relieve the tension. Lying there passive was an exquisite torture. Anders pulled the food from the pack that I had tossed under a tree and tried to hand me a piece of sausage. I shook my head, making no move to take the offering.

I did not realize I had fallen asleep until I awoke, the evening closing in, everything in that stillness that descends before the fall of night when the birds are quiet and the forest creatures pause. My cloak had been pulled from my pack and placed carefully over me, pinned to it, a note.

I ripped the paper from its pin and held it close to my eyes in the waining light, reading, "I am sorry that I am no longer all that I was, all that you loved. I understand. We both know that the Chantry cares about capturing me much more than you. Go to Antiva City and make a life for yourself, it is all that I could wish."

Jumping up, I grabbed the pack, hardly conscious of the action, and ran out to the road. There were no distinctive tracks I could see in the dim light, and I wasn't sure I would recognize Anders' anyway. Boots were boots were boots. No doubt his, worn as they were, had some unique markings, but I had no idea what they were.

Would he have gone on to Antiva City or back towards Kirkwall? Back I decided, probably intending to turn himself into the Templars and beg for clemency for me. I started down the road at a steady jog, determined to not stop until I found him. If he had left as soon as I feel asleep, it meant he had two, maybe three hours head start, but I was stronger and faster and more determined, at least I hoped so.

I questioned every traveler I passed, and was relieved when one finally gave a fairly accurate description of Anders' robe. Granted, it was like thousands of others, but not like thousands of others on this road this night.

It had been fully dark for several hours, but I continued on, tripping over rocks and ruts, when I saw the small glow of a fire off in the woods. I couldn't let the chance to talk to anyone go, so I made my way as quietly as possible towards the light.

I saw him just before I stepped on a twig that cracked loudly. He scampered off beyond the reach of the light. I noted the direction he took as best I could, but hoped he would come back if I called. Chasing a mage through a thicket in the dead of night was not my idea of a fun evening.

Walking into the full light of the meager fire, I stood with my hands out and called, "Come out Anders. I saw you. I need you. I can't go on without you." This surprised me. It was not what I intended to say, but my heart had overruled my brain. Again, without conscious thought, I cried, "Please. You are everything to me. Justice was nothing. Please, I love you." The long day of running seemed to drop on me like a weight as I fell to my knees, my head bowed. If he did not come, I knew I could go no further tonight, but I was determined that at first light I would be up and after him again.

It was there, while I was on my knees, that he came to me. It had been more than a few minutes since I had called out, and I had given up hope of finding him again tonight, feeling guilty that I had forced him from his fire. My head was bowed and my arms almost too exhausted to lift, when I felt a touch on my hair. The softest of touches, it could have been a bat searching for an evening's meal, but then the words, "You came."

I almost collapsed with relief, but looked up instead. Strong hands reached down and lifted me to my feet, as his arms encircled me, holding me close. "Why?" he asked. "Why did you follow me? You could have gone on to Antiva City. The Crows would be pleased to have you. The Templars and Chantry wouldn't bother once they had me. I could have saved you, if you had let me."

I pulled back a bit and turned his face so I could look into this eyes. "Anders..." I began, my voice weak and choked with emotion. I took a deep breath and said, "Anders, I would be nothing without you. I was confused when you told me of Justice's departure, but when you left, your note, it was clear to me that it is you that I love. If you could do that, without Justice, then it was not Justice that I cared for, but you. I... I don't know what to say, except that I love you, I need you, I will do everything within my power to protect you, just please, please do not leave me."

I realized that I was begging. I might as well of still been on my knees. It was not something that I would have ever imagined doing. But now, if I could do it a hundred times, a thousand times, I would, to get him back with me. All I could do was look at him, look into those golden eyes that had shared so many moments, and wait.

The corners of his mouth quirked up in that uneven way that I loved, as he said, "You are a fool, do you know that? You could have had a good life, but you choose a possessed apostate mage instead. Still, who am I to gainsay your foolish impulses? If you still want me, I am yours, as I have always been."

The sigh that exploded from me made me realize that I had been holding my breath. Even when he smiled, I wasn't sure what his answer would be and I couldn't hold him against him will. The tension broken, I started to chuckle in pure relief. In a moment we were both laughing, crying, pounding on each other's back. We were standing that way when another laugh, one utterly lacking in mirth, joined ours.

A harsh voice rang out, mocking, "Well, look what we've found, boys. Seems the information was good. Don't think these are innocent travelers, do you?" Their jeering laughter replaced ours, sending a shiver down my spine.

I didn't want to look, not now, not after all we had been through, but there, moving into the firelight, was a troop of Templars. When I thought they were all visible, I did a quick count. Ten. Not impossible odds, but not good.

The captain came up to me, taking my chin roughly in hand, and turned my head so he could see my eyes more clearly. "Umph, yes, violet. A most distinctive color. Too bad you couldn't disguise those, boy. Well, too bad for you, but good for us, huh men?"

He moved over to Anders, tweaking his nose and eliciting an indignant "Ow!" This caused the scoffing to increase as the soldiers enjoyed their leader's wit.

"A long nose and violet eyes," the captain continued. "Are you going to try to deny who you are or just come along peacefully, saving us all trouble? There's a nice headsman waiting for you, after the White Divine has questioned you of course. And after they've drawn and quartered you. The Chantry does not look kindly on apostates who blow up their Grand Clerics and expensive real estate."

A rough voice came from the shadows and a finger pointed at me, "I want to see that one's face when they cut off his friend's willy, I do. Damn apostates and their bum boys." More twittering broke out in the ranks at these sage remarks.

"Shut up, Rudger," the captain snarled, stepping back from me.

For years, Anders and I, and anyone else I fought with, had had a word that meant attack. One that was innocuous and not easy to confuse with any other. It allowed a small element of surprise. The word was â€˜up.' It leant itself to any number of sentences, and was particularly appropriate now.

I slowly raised my open hands to my shoulders. A gesture of surrender, but one that put them closer to the daggers strapped to my back under the robe. I was rather amazed that the captain had not attempted to search us yet, but I suppose ragged and worn as we looked, and with the superior numbers he had, he simply couldn't conceive of resistance.

Anders, of course, didn't have his staff, but he barely needed it. Unlike the weakened Circle mages the Templars were used to dealing with, those who utterly depended on their staffs to work significant magic, Anders had, for years, practiced with his hands alone. The odds were too good in battle that a staff would be taken, broken or destroyed. In learning to use only his hands, much as a warrior learns hand to hand combat, he had assured that he would never be defenseless.

As I raised my hands, the captain narrowed his eyes. It was starting to occur to him that this had all been too easy. Before he could do anything smart, I said in my most resigned tone, "You have us captain. No point in more bloodshed. We give up."

Anders, of course, knew exactly what was coming. At the last word, fireballs erupted around us and I pulled my daggers, sinking them both into the base of the captain's neck. Dodging the pyrotechnics, aided by long practice, I realized the mistake I had just made. Without their leader, and faced with the fire and ice that Anders was now throwing their way, the soldiers had scattered and run. There was nothing for it, we would need to hunt them all down.

I jumped two, felling but not finishing them, before they left the ring of light. Anders quickly ended them as I ran after another, stopping him with a thrown dagger. Running past the body, I retrieved the dagger. I was in luck, there were three of them before me who had run towards and impenetrable thicket. They now stood at bay, two with swords drawn while another worked Templar spells to counter Anders' magic. It was a good effort, but they had never encountered a true battle mage before. Before the words could leave the young solider's mouth he was frozen, then shattered into tiny crystals of ice. Understandably, this distracted his fellows and gave me the opening I needed. I was behind them before they could turn, my blades stroking their necks. They dropped like felled oxen as I sprinted back to see where our count stood.

The underbrush was burning to the right of the campfire, where Anders still stood, his brow creased in concentration. "I think I got the last three," he said. He threw ice on the fire, extinguishing it, and I accepted the gruesome task of counting the charred bodies. The air smelled of burnt meat as I approached the scorched area. One of them had almost escaped, only his legs burned. He was moaning loudly through singed lungs. The other two were cinders, but clearly there were two bodies.

I ran the count quickly through my mind again, then went back to Anders, asking, "What was your initial tally?" He had better night vision than I did and I wanted to make sure that I hadn't missed any.

"Ten," he confirmed. "Very definitely only ten. Their horses can't be far, and that will verify it, but I'm sure ten."

I nodded and set out to do the task that I knew Anders would refuse. We could not leave witnesses, and it would be cruel to leave grievously wounded men here in the woods in any case. I decided on the burn victim first, he was probably in the most pain. I'm not sure why I didn't just cut his throat from behind, but something compelled me to turn him over. I wished I had not. He was only a boy. A terrified boy as he looked up at me and saw his death. He started to beg and I heard the word mother before my knife flashed down. I hated when they did that.

The captain was long gone and the two others that I had caught by the fire had been thoroughly seen to by Anders.

Walking further into the forest, I found the one that had been stopped by my throw. Apparently he had tried to rejoin the fight, for now both arms and an ankle were broken, the result of a bolt from Anders, no doubt. He was the loudmouthed fellow, and despite his condition he was still loquacious, saying against his pain, "Were all just a bit of a joke, what I said back there. You understand. Just us tough boys together, you and me, right? I'll be all right, just leave me here. Don't give it another thought."

The man could talk, and I had to admit that he was fairly brave to even attempt such a ploy, but I well remembered what he said. I snarled back, "You know what I should do to you, don't you? Yes, I think I should leave you alive, or at least most of you." I grabbed him by the waistband of his pants, and I am not proud to admit that I enjoyed his scream of terror before I mercifully cut his throat.

I was pretty sure that the last two were dead, but I checked on them anyway. It would not do to be sloppy. Yes, their throats were thoroughly opened and the large pools of their blood had mingled there on the leaf cover of the forest floor.

I dropped my hands, still holding the gory daggers, to my sides and let my head fall back. It would be a long night. Ten damn bodies to move, to hide or bury, and Anders weakened by hunger and the expenditure of his magic. It had to be done before daylight. Not only the bodies, armor and weapons hidden, but the horses found and dealt with. Then we needed to be as far away from here as we could be before the sun rose.

Before I could continue, I needed rest. Just a few moments, and some food and wine. And, I realized, I could have Anders heal me. I wasn't wounded, at least not in any major way, but his abilities could restore a measure of vitality as well as treat injuries. It made more sense for him to give his strength to me rather than to try to help with the physical work ahead.

Anticipating my needs, as he so often did, he had bread, the sausage I had refused earlier, and one of our precious dried figs laid out for me. The wine flask sat next to the small repast. As I dropped down, I said, "Anders, you must eat too. Really, if you don't you are dooming us both. Have some."

The corner of his mouth turned up and he nodded, carefully halving the small sausage and chewing on it thoughtfully. I had just finished the wine, when more laughter came from the woods. My only thought was, "What now?" I wasn't sure I had another battle in me tonight. Who would be prowling these woods so late? Whatever direction they came from, they must have noticed the bodies and blood and smelled the charred flesh, too much to be cooking.

"Tell your mage to hold his fire," a familiar voice commanded. I was so exhausted that I almost snickered at the unintentional pun. At least I assumed it was unintentional. I nodded to Anders as the Crow stepped into the firelight. Even then, backlit by the blaze, she almost merged with the night.

"I didn't get your name when last we met, or I would introduce you," I said, motioning for her to join us.

"You don't need to know my name," she replied, declining to sit. "I do come with good news, however. We will take care of the bodies and the mounts. You can continue on your way."

Spearing a piece of cheese, not bothering to look at her, I asked, "And why should I trust you? I assume that these unfortunate Templars are your doing. Tell me why my friend should not just fry you where you stand."

Her laugh was musical, a sound that I would always remember. She clapped her hands and, before I could rise, we were fenced by arrows. They made a neat circle around us, each an exact distance from the other. I had to admit, I was impressed. Fire that coordinated and accurate was something I had never encountered before.

Trying to look cool, I said, "Very well. You have friends. Talented friends. We'll just be leaving now."

"Wise," she replied, continuing, "Oh, and when you leave, step on the arrows, do not touch them with your bare skin, or even your mage will not be able to save you." Ah, one of the the famous Crow poisons I had heard so much about, no doubt.

As we stood and shouldered our packs, I was thinking that it must be Anders that they wanted. I couldn't imagine what I had to teach such accomplished assassins. The trick with the arrows and greatly deflated my ego.

I made sure the arrows were stomped flat before we crossed the low fence they had formed. As we made our way to the road, I took Anders hand in mine, saying, "I don't know how much longer we have. It seems that the game is out of our hands, even more so then before, but whatever time is left, I am glad that you're here with me." He squeezed my hand, and we walked into the fading night.

Description

Anders caught up, but walked several paces behind me, giving me the space to think. Finally he called out, "I can't keep up this pace. If you're going to leave me, let me know, but in either case, I need a rest."

The guilt slammed into me. He was weak and troubled, had hardly been eating or sleeping, and I was marching ahead like a Qunari on campaign. I paused, turned to him, and said, "I'm sorry. But I still don't have an answer. Come, let us sit and eat."

The grass was soft and fragrant, spring green staining our worn robes. I lay back, my hands crossed on my chest, staring into the canopy of the oaks above us. I really didn't want to stop. I needed to be moving. If I were honest with myself, I needed to kill something to relieve the tension. Lying there passive was an exquisite torture. Anders pulled the food from the pack that I had tossed under a tree and tried to hand me a piece of sausage. I shook my head, making no move to take the offering.

I did not realize I had fallen asleep until I awoke, the evening closing in, everything in that stillness that descends before the fall of night when the birds are quiet and the forest creatures pause. My cloak had been pulled from my pack and placed carefully over me, pinned to it, a note.

I ripped the paper from its pin and held it close to my eyes in the waining light, reading, "I am sorry that I am no longer all that I was, all that you loved. I understand. We both know that the Chantry cares about capturing me much more than you. Go to Antiva City and make a life for yourself, it is all that I could wish."

Jumping up, I grabbed the pack, hardly conscious of the action, and ran out to the road. There were no distinctive tracks I could see in the dim light, and I wasn't sure I would recognize Anders' anyway. Boots were boots were boots. No doubt his, worn as they were, had some unique markings, but I had no idea what they were.

Would he have gone on to Antiva City or back towards Kirkwall? Back I decided, probably intending to turn himself into the Templars and beg for clemency for me. I started down the road at a steady jog, determined to not stop until I found him. If he had left as soon as I feel asleep, it meant he had two, maybe three hours head start, but I was stronger and faster and more determined, at least I hoped so.

I questioned every traveler I passed, and was relieved when one finally gave a fairly accurate description of Anders' robe. Granted, it was like thousands of others, but not like thousands of others on this road this night.

It had been fully dark for several hours, but I continued on, tripping over rocks and ruts, when I saw the small glow of a fire off in the woods. I couldn't let the chance to talk to anyone go, so I made my way as quietly as possible towards the light.

I saw him just before I stepped on a twig that cracked loudly. He scampered off beyond the reach of the light. I noted the direction he took as best I could, but hoped he would come back if I called. Chasing a mage through a thicket in the dead of night was not my idea of a fun evening.

Walking into the full light of the meager fire, I stood with my hands out and called, "Come out Anders. I saw you. I need you. I can't go on without you." This surprised me. It was not what I intended to say, but my heart had overruled my brain. Again, without conscious thought, I cried, "Please. You are everything to me. Justice was nothing. Please, I love you." The long day of running seemed to drop on me like a weight as I fell to my knees, my head bowed. If he did not come, I knew I could go no further tonight, but I was determined that at first light I would be up and after him again.

It was there, while I was on my knees, that he came to me. It had been more than a few minutes since I had called out, and I had given up hope of finding him again tonight, feeling guilty that I had forced him from his fire. My head was bowed and my arms almost too exhausted to lift, when I felt a touch on my hair. The softest of touches, it could have been a bat searching for an evening's meal, but then the words, "You came."

I almost collapsed with relief, but looked up instead. Strong hands reached down and lifted me to my feet, as his arms encircled me, holding me close. "Why?" he asked. "Why did you follow me? You could have gone on to Antiva City. The Crows would be pleased to have you. The Templars and Chantry wouldn't bother once they had me. I could have saved you, if you had let me."

I pulled back a bit and turned his face so I could look into this eyes. "Anders..." I began, my voice weak and choked with emotion. I took a deep breath and said, "Anders, I would be nothing without you. I was confused when you told me of Justice's departure, but when you left, your note, it was clear to me that it is you that I love. If you could do that, without Justice, then it was not Justice that I cared for, but you. I... I don't know what to say, except that I love you, I need you, I will do everything within my power to protect you, just please, please do not leave me."

I realized that I was begging. I might as well of still been on my knees. It was not something that I would have ever imagined doing. But now, if I could do it a hundred times, a thousand times, I would, to get him back with me. All I could do was look at him, look into those golden eyes that had shared so many moments, and wait.

The corners of his mouth quirked up in that uneven way that I loved, as he said, "You are a fool, do you know that? You could have had a good life, but you choose a possessed apostate mage instead. Still, who am I to gainsay your foolish impulses? If you still want me, I am yours, as I have always been."

The sigh that exploded from me made me realize that I had been holding my breath. Even when he smiled, I wasn't sure what his answer would be and I couldn't hold him against him will. The tension broken, I started to chuckle in pure relief. In a moment we were both laughing, crying, pounding on each other's back. We were standing that way when another laugh, one utterly lacking in mirth, joined ours.

A harsh voice rang out, mocking, "Well, look what we've found, boys. Seems the information was good. Don't think these are innocent travelers, do you?" Their jeering laughter replaced ours, sending a shiver down my spine.

I didn't want to look, not now, not after all we had been through, but there, moving into the firelight, was a troop of Templars. When I thought they were all visible, I did a quick count. Ten. Not impossible odds, but not good.

The captain came up to me, taking my chin roughly in hand, and turned my head so he could see my eyes more clearly. "Umph, yes, violet. A most distinctive color. Too bad you couldn't disguise those, boy. Well, too bad for you, but good for us, huh men?"

He moved over to Anders, tweaking his nose and eliciting an indignant "Ow!" This caused the scoffing to increase as the soldiers enjoyed their leader's wit.

"A long nose and violet eyes," the captain continued. "Are you going to try to deny who you are or just come along peacefully, saving us all trouble? There's a nice headsman waiting for you, after the White Divine has questioned you of course. And after they've drawn and quartered you. The Chantry does not look kindly on apostates who blow up their Grand Clerics and expensive real estate."

A rough voice came from the shadows and a finger pointed at me, "I want to see that one's face when they cut off his friend's willy, I do. Damn apostates and their bum boys." More twittering broke out in the ranks at these sage remarks.

"Shut up, Rudger," the captain snarled, stepping back from me.

For years, Anders and I, and anyone else I fought with, had had a word that meant attack. One that was innocuous and not easy to confuse with any other. It allowed a small element of surprise. The word was â€˜up.' It leant itself to any number of sentences, and was particularly appropriate now.

I slowly raised my open hands to my shoulders. A gesture of surrender, but one that put them closer to the daggers strapped to my back under the robe. I was rather amazed that the captain had not attempted to search us yet, but I suppose ragged and worn as we looked, and with the superior numbers he had, he simply couldn't conceive of resistance.

Anders, of course, didn't have his staff, but he barely needed it. Unlike the weakened Circle mages the Templars were used to dealing with, those who utterly depended on their staffs to work significant magic, Anders had, for years, practiced with his hands alone. The odds were too good in battle that a staff would be taken, broken or destroyed. In learning to use only his hands, much as a warrior learns hand to hand combat, he had assured that he would never be defenseless.

As I raised my hands, the captain narrowed his eyes. It was starting to occur to him that this had all been too easy. Before he could do anything smart, I said in my most resigned tone, "You have us captain. No point in more bloodshed. We give up."

Anders, of course, knew exactly what was coming. At the last word, fireballs erupted around us and I pulled my daggers, sinking them both into the base of the captain's neck. Dodging the pyrotechnics, aided by long practice, I realized the mistake I had just made. Without their leader, and faced with the fire and ice that Anders was now throwing their way, the soldiers had scattered and run. There was nothing for it, we would need to hunt them all down.

I jumped two, felling but not finishing them, before they left the ring of light. Anders quickly ended them as I ran after another, stopping him with a thrown dagger. Running past the body, I retrieved the dagger. I was in luck, there were three of them before me who had run towards and impenetrable thicket. They now stood at bay, two with swords drawn while another worked Templar spells to counter Anders' magic. It was a good effort, but they had never encountered a true battle mage before. Before the words could leave the young solider's mouth he was frozen, then shattered into tiny crystals of ice. Understandably, this distracted his fellows and gave me the opening I needed. I was behind them before they could turn, my blades stroking their necks. They dropped like felled oxen as I sprinted back to see where our count stood.

The underbrush was burning to the right of the campfire, where Anders still stood, his brow creased in concentration. "I think I got the last three," he said. He threw ice on the fire, extinguishing it, and I accepted the gruesome task of counting the charred bodies. The air smelled of burnt meat as I approached the scorched area. One of them had almost escaped, only his legs burned. He was moaning loudly through singed lungs. The other two were cinders, but clearly there were two bodies.

I ran the count quickly through my mind again, then went back to Anders, asking, "What was your initial tally?" He had better night vision than I did and I wanted to make sure that I hadn't missed any.

"Ten," he confirmed. "Very definitely only ten. Their horses can't be far, and that will verify it, but I'm sure ten."

I nodded and set out to do the task that I knew Anders would refuse. We could not leave witnesses, and it would be cruel to leave grievously wounded men here in the woods in any case. I decided on the burn victim first, he was probably in the most pain. I'm not sure why I didn't just cut his throat from behind, but something compelled me to turn him over. I wished I had not. He was only a boy. A terrified boy as he looked up at me and saw his death. He started to beg and I heard the word mother before my knife flashed down. I hated when they did that.

The captain was long gone and the two others that I had caught by the fire had been thoroughly seen to by Anders.

Walking further into the forest, I found the one that had been stopped by my throw. Apparently he had tried to rejoin the fight, for now both arms and an ankle were broken, the result of a bolt from Anders, no doubt. He was the loudmouthed fellow, and despite his condition he was still loquacious, saying against his pain, "Were all just a bit of a joke, what I said back there. You understand. Just us tough boys together, you and me, right? I'll be all right, just leave me here. Don't give it another thought."

The man could talk, and I had to admit that he was fairly brave to even attempt such a ploy, but I well remembered what he said. I snarled back, "You know what I should do to you, don't you? Yes, I think I should leave you alive, or at least most of you." I grabbed him by the waistband of his pants, and I am not proud to admit that I enjoyed his scream of terror before I mercifully cut his throat.

I was pretty sure that the last two were dead, but I checked on them anyway. It would not do to be sloppy. Yes, their throats were thoroughly opened and the large pools of their blood had mingled there on the leaf cover of the forest floor.

I dropped my hands, still holding the gory daggers, to my sides and let my head fall back. It would be a long night. Ten damn bodies to move, to hide or bury, and Anders weakened by hunger and the expenditure of his magic. It had to be done before daylight. Not only the bodies, armor and weapons hidden, but the horses found and dealt with. Then we needed to be as far away from here as we could be before the sun rose.

Before I could continue, I needed rest. Just a few moments, and some food and wine. And, I realized, I could have Anders heal me. I wasn't wounded, at least not in any major way, but his abilities could restore a measure of vitality as well as treat injuries. It made more sense for him to give his strength to me rather than to try to help with the physical work ahead.

Anticipating my needs, as he so often did, he had bread, the sausage I had refused earlier, and one of our precious dried figs laid out for me. The wine flask sat next to the small repast. As I dropped down, I said, "Anders, you must eat too. Really, if you don't you are dooming us both. Have some."

The corner of his mouth turned up and he nodded, carefully halving the small sausage and chewing on it thoughtfully. I had just finished the wine, when more laughter came from the woods. My only thought was, "What now?" I wasn't sure I had another battle in me tonight. Who would be prowling these woods so late? Whatever direction they came from, they must have noticed the bodies and blood and smelled the charred flesh, too much to be cooking.

"Tell your mage to hold his fire," a familiar voice commanded. I was so exhausted that I almost snickered at the unintentional pun. At least I assumed it was unintentional. I nodded to Anders as the Crow stepped into the firelight. Even then, backlit by the blaze, she almost merged with the night.

"I didn't get your name when last we met, or I would introduce you," I said, motioning for her to join us.

"You don't need to know my name," she replied, declining to sit. "I do come with good news, however. We will take care of the bodies and the mounts. You can continue on your way."

Spearing a piece of cheese, not bothering to look at her, I asked, "And why should I trust you? I assume that these unfortunate Templars are your doing. Tell me why my friend should not just fry you where you stand."

Her laugh was musical, a sound that I would always remember. She clapped her hands and, before I could rise, we were fenced by arrows. They made a neat circle around us, each an exact distance from the other. I had to admit, I was impressed. Fire that coordinated and accurate was something I had never encountered before.

Trying to look cool, I said, "Very well. You have friends. Talented friends. We'll just be leaving now."

"Wise," she replied, continuing, "Oh, and when you leave, step on the arrows, do not touch them with your bare skin, or even your mage will not be able to save you." Ah, one of the the famous Crow poisons I had heard so much about, no doubt.

As we stood and shouldered our packs, I was thinking that it must be Anders that they wanted. I couldn't imagine what I had to teach such accomplished assassins. The trick with the arrows and greatly deflated my ego.

I made sure the arrows were stomped flat before we crossed the low fence they had formed. As we made our way to the road, I took Anders hand in mine, saying, "I don't know how much longer we have. It seems that the game is out of our hands, even more so then before, but whatever time is left, I am glad that you're here with me." He squeezed my hand, and we walked into the fading night.