Unforgettable

Inquisitorial Business

Thule stood in the stables in the dim light of a very early morning, sipping hot coffee and watching Scout Harding as she saddled her pony. "Let us know what you find out in the Hissing Wastes as soon as you get there."

She glared at him. "I know what I'm doing, Inquisitor."

"I know what I'm doing, too."

"Do you?"

Thule sighed. "He lied, Lace. He killed people, he allowed his men to be hung for a crime he hid from, and he lied to us. To all of us. And, lest you forget, he wanted to die."

"That's no reason to exile a good sword arm."

"Look, I understand. You cared for him—"

"I care for him," she corrected. "He's a good man."

"I wish I agreed with you."

"I wish you did, too." She tightened the cinch on the pony's saddle. "Promise me you won't send him away until I get back."

"I promise. I don't think Leliana's going to let me send him off to the Wardens at all, much less anytime soon."

Harding turned to look at him. "You know the Wardens at Adamant listened to him. They accepted him as one of their own."

"He talked a good game." Thule shrugged. "And sometimes it takes an outsider to show you how much of yourself you've lost."

"How much of yourself have you lost?"

"That's not fair!" he retorted, stung. "The Carta would have had him killed. All I did was sentence him to be the Grey Warden he pretended to be. He's always held up the Wardens in his head as an ideal; he might as well live with the reality."

"He's right." The quiet voice of the man they'd been discussing startled them both. They turned to see Blackwall leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. "When Warden Blackwall met me, I was a wreck of a man starting a bar fight. For all my attempts to be a better man, I am still that wreck, that nobody, even today."

Harding moved toward him, her whole heart in her eyes. Thule looked down at his coffee, his heart hurting for her, stuck in a situation so deeply painful to everyone involved. He cleared his throat. "If he's not here when you get back, Lace, it won't be my doing," he promised, and he left them alone.

He found Hawke in the training yard, slicing a dummy to pieces with her daggers. As he approached, she stopped, breathing heavily. "You're up early."

"So are you."

"Got to get back in shape."

"If you ask me, you're in fine shape. That was good form," he told her.

"Put down the coffee and come have a bout?"

Thule shook his head. "Inquisitorial business today, too busy and important to spar."

"That's a shame."

He grinned. "Isn't it, though? So, how was Emprise du Lion?"

Hawke blushed, confirming the rumors he had heard about her and Alistair. He was happy for them—but judging from the wary way they were circling each other, neither of them was sure if they were happy for themselves. Or maybe he was turning into a romantic softie like Cassandra. Surely that couldn't be a bad thing, could it? "It was fine," Hawke said briefly. She looked over one of her daggers as if it was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. "Got a nick in the edge of this one. I ought to file that down while I'm thinking of it."