They were home. Or the closest thing to it, as far as she was concerned. Besides, Skyhold had its moments. While Zahra would always prefer the sea, there was something about kicking your legs up on the ramparts, staring out across the snowy mountain peaks. Star strewn and cut across cliffs as if it were a weed that didnât belong but refused to grow anywhere else. In some cases, she supposed the Inquisition carried on the same way. Not that she minded. It carried her to places she otherwise wouldnât have found herself. Though some adventures, she supposed, she wouldnât have minded skipping.
She opened her hand skyward and flexed her fingers, staring between her knuckles for a moment. The redness was fading with each session she had with Asala and the scars looked less unappealing. Fortunately she wasnât as pale as Skyholdâs peaks, because her dark skin tended to camouflage it for the most part. Unless someone were to look at it closely, or if the light touched it at certain angles, one might not notice the spiderweb flesh threading up her arm and into shoulder. At least, it was something she constantly told herself. The Inquisition harbored plenty of scarred individuals. People didnât wage war against dragons and Gods without acquiring at least a few.
Zahra dropped her hand to her side and shook her head. Of course, thatâs not why she was out here. Sheâd found a nice spot up one of the tallest towers, hidden behind a latched door. Perhaps, it wasnât meant to be explored. But who would stop them? Either way, it had a spectacular view of the mountains surrounding their little keep, and she wanted to share it with someone else. Sheâd already stolen into the kitchen, and slipped several sweet tarts into her handkerchief, before darting back outside. A little encouragement to steal a particular person away from her studiesâif thatâs what she could call it. Pounding on dummies, and people. An education in bruises, more like.
As soon as she rounded the bend, she slowed her footsteps and took to leaning against the fence surrounding the practice yard. She leaned her elbows across one of the beams and watched Khari for a moment.
âCare for a break? Iâve got sweets to share,â she cleared her throat and laughed, âand another person to recruit on the way.â
Khari seemed to be at her practice alone at the moment, which was probably a good sign. She had actual instructors these days, or something like that. Fancy-looking fellow in fancy-looking armor. But neither he nor Estella nor anyone else was around at the moment, and it took Khari only a couple of seconds to decide, shrugging her shoulders. âGimme a couple minutes to stow my gear, but sure." She had said she wasn't much of a sweets person, but the company seemed to be more than enough incentive, anyhow.
Once she'd shed her armor and weapons and properly put them away, she shook out her loose shirt a little, peeling it away from her skin now that she didn't need to wear metal over it anymore. She was a bit sweaty, but as far as either of them could tell, she didn't smell that bad. Once they were back where they'd started, she tilted her head. âAre we looking for Rom, or someone else?"
Zahraâs grin widened as soon as she accepted the invitation. She wasnât very good at taking no for an answer, anyhow. She probably wouldâve pestered her into going eventually. Wearing people down was a skill of hers. Sheâd tied the bundle of goods to the sash wound around her waist. It bounced against her hip, but she supposed theyâd still be in good shape by the time they reached their destination.
âGood guess, thatâs where I was headed next,â she tilted her head and flourished a hand in front of her, indicating that she should take the lead, âDonât suppose you know where heâs hiding?â
âMost likely the undercroft; let's try there first."
âFirst stop: Undercroft,â Zahra affirmed with an arched eyebrow. Sheâd often wondered what he did down thereâlast sheâd seen, with all the various weights and contraptions, she figured he and Khari were pretty similar. Always training to become stronger, in whatever form they could. If she was being honest, sheâd never been one to try all that hard. Training with Marcelineâs rapiers was possibly one of the most difficult things sheâd undertaken. Studying those dry books, however, had proven much worse than sweating as she practiced her footwork.
Sheâd improved over the last few months. Become less clumsy with her blades; enough that Marceline complimented her on her form, though it was difficult to tell if she wasnât just trying to make her feel better. A bow always felt better in her hands; she never thought she wouldâve gained new callouses, ripped over the old ones. But here she was. An old dog learning new tricks.
It didnât take them long to reach the Undercroft. Though sheâd only been there a handful of times, Zahra often occupied herself by drunkenly exploring Skyholdâs hidden pathways whenever she could. Which was often, as she often took residence in the Herald Restâs corner⊠listening to the lovely singing lass whoâd already begun writing songs about her companions. Of a feisty redhead who fought like a bear. She enjoyed hearing them.
The door had been left slightly ajar⊠which was odd, considering how mysterious the room was. There was an even stranger noise inside. The clanking of metal? She glanced sidelong at Khari and shrugged her shoulders, tipping the door open with the toe of her boot. Let it be known, she wasnât one for embracing privacy. For good measure, she wrapped her knuckles on the wood of the door and added, âYou in there, ducky?â
"It's." Clang. "Open." Clang.
Upon entering, they were once again treated to the sight of Rom with his shirt off, rippling musculature of his upper body straining as he held onto a metal bar suspended by a series of rungs fastened into the wall. He was about halfway up it at this point, each burst of effort carrying him one rung higher with another metallic clang. When he finally reached the top, he let go with one hand, still dangling by the other and twisting the quarter turn necessary to look at them.
"Are we going somewhere?"
Zahraâs snort idled somewhere between a laugh and beaming smirk. She elbowed Khari softly in the ribs, and waggled her eyebrows. Her expression fell quick enough for Rom to miss. Besides, she somehow doubted that she wouldâve caught onto her razingâthe girl was strange when it came to anything that resembled intimacy, or else⊠maybe she was a little too straight-forward. Blunt as a dull blade. Definitely difficult to tease. Even so, she wasnât blind enough not to notice the connection they had, or the looks Rom shot her. Poor lad.
âA little adventure, is all,â she proposed and held the bundle aloft, âI found this nice little place with an incredible view. Up high. So, you might want a shirt.â A laugh rattled free from her lips as she swung the folded handkerchief back over her shoulder, âThough I donât think anyone would complain if you didnât.â In all likelihood, they probably wouldnât. There were plenty of young women, and men, whoâd ogle the Inquisitionâs motley crew. From the handsome elf, to the beautiful Commander, and all of their pretty women, it wasnât any wonder when she heard the barmaids whispering.
Taking the bar in both hands again, Rom wrenched it back and fell to the ground, landing smoothly with a slight bend through his legs. He laughed softly a bit, clearing his throat. "Right. Give me a minute." He grabbed a towel, setting down the bar on a table, where he snatched a small, drained potion bottle, still with a few not yet dried drops of some bright orange-colored liquid. He carried the bottle over to his alchemy station, setting it down with a few others, and took a drink of what was probably water from a skin.
"I could use a break, sure." He wiped away the sweat quickly, throwing a shirt over his head and grabbing his cloak on the way towards them. "A good view sounds nice."
Nosy as Zahra was, sheâd noted the oddly-colored liquid sloshing around in the vial he carried. How could she not? It was bright orange. Orange like the sunset when it crept up the horizon, painting everything it touched. She made a humming noise, but made no mention of it. Perhaps, normally she would have, but sheâd learned over the course of their stay in Griffonâs Keep that if Rom had no intention of sharing something⊠he avoided it entirely. Prying was ineffective, much to her dismay.
âThis way, then.â She stood back from the door to allow him through and took the lead once more. This time, their destination took them through winding corridors and past a pantry with stacked bottles. Old vintages sheâd found when she was probing Skyholdâs belly for something interesting. There was plenty to find in this old place, if one looked hard enough. Almost seemed as if she found something new every day. Then, there were stairs. Many, many stairs. While Rom and Khari mightâve not minded the physical exertion, Zahra disliked it.
Not enough to dissuade her from showing them, but enough that she held her breath to keep from panting. How embarrassing that would be. Archers hardly ran, though. A good excuse as any. Better to pin someoneâs tongue from afar, then skip around close, dodging blades in a pool of sweat. When they reached the rickety wooden ladder, she swept her hand in front of her, and took the first step. Sheâd already climbed it before, and it had held. Not much different from swaying on ropesâadmittedly, sheâd trust any shipâs ropes over some of the things sheâd found in Skyhold.
As soon as she reached the wooden latch, Zahra pushed it open and felt a breeze sweep past her face. A welcomed one, as sweat was already trickling down the back of her neck. She hauled herself up another step and pushed the latch clear, thumping it off to the side, in order to allow the others through. Pulling herself onto the tower's spacious platform, she plopped the bundle down and stretched out her arms wide, feeling the crack of bones in her shoulders. The view really was amazing. It faced the largest section of mountains, on the northern side. Kind of looked like three fingers, cutting into the clouds. The wind was stronger up here, as well, though she doubted they would mind.
The breeze was strong enough to stir Khari's hair around her head, or at least the little ones that always escaped from her vivid red braid, wayward curls left to float about her crown. It rippled through her linen shirt as well, like it might tug at a pennant hoisted from the tower roof, but the elf didn't seem to mind. âYou know me: always happy to feel a little taller." She grinned, settling herself down into a crosslegged position that faced her out towards the mountains, still visible through the gaps in the crenelations, at least. âSometimes more than a little, I guess."
"I'd sneak to the top of towers in Minrathous sometimes," Rom reminisced, making his way to one of the corners and peering out over the edge. "On business, usually, though sometimes I'd find excuses. A... friend of mine would pick out the locations, advise me on my route, pick the locked doors. We enjoyed looking down on the city. We were a different kind of small then, I suppose." He took a step back, observing the impressive height of the Frostbacks all around him.
"Here you climb to the top of the tallest towers, and the world still dwarfs you on all sides." He didn't seem to mind it, though, turning and settling his back into the corner, clearly relaxed with the height.
Somehow, the thought of a small, wee Rom scurrying through towers, looking down at the city that seemed to dwarf him⊠felt like it painted a better picture of him. Zahra had never thought to prod of his past. There were things there, scars that ran deeper than sheâd care to scratch. Everyone did, she supposed. The Inquisition was ripe with damaged, broken people. Birds of a feather, flocked together. Besides, dredging up painful pasts wasnât something she enjoyed. Even she had boundaries.
She, too, understood what it was like to feel small. Not just physically. Growing up in a shitty fishing village had a habit of making you feel so small that youâd be gobbled up by the world. She nodded her head and unraveled the bundle holding the sweet tarts, snatching one up to nibble on as they talked. Sheâd taken one of the corners as well, leaning her back against the stone ledge so that she could still face them. âSkyholdâs allure. Sometimes, I think itâs the Inquisition that feels so big Iâm not sure what to do with it.â
Zahra shoved the rest of the sweet tart in her mouth and spoke around it, âMinwafous, waf was da like?â Manners? None. As soon as she swallowed, she thumped her chest and added, âNever been there.â
Khari didn't hide her interest in what his answer would be, though there was a hint of caution in her expression as well. As though she might not have chosen to ask it herself.
Perhaps Zahra had caught him in a good mood, as he didn't seem disinclined to discuss it. "Ask around the south and they'd tell you it's a den of evil. Birthplace of sin, or something. Maybe in some rooms, at some times. But Minrathous is just a city when it comes down to it. A warm one, at least; the weather is almost always nice. As long you don't mind rain in the summers." It wasn't so different to Rivain in that regard, considering how far north it was.
"Every city has its own personality. Minrathous revolves around magic, and the slave trade can become overbearing when a magister puts some scheme into play. But there are rich and poor, young and old. Glassy eyed soldiers back from Seheron or marines from the Ventosus. Most slaves suffer no worse than the poor in the south, especially the elves. Some slaves can live quite comfortably, with the right master."
He fell silent for a moment, perhaps pondering that and how it related to him. "What I did bought me freedoms in some ways and restrictions in others. I don't know if I'm best suited to tell you what the city is like, as it wasn't often I allowed myself to live it, so to speak."
âThatâs a shame, then. Sounds like a nice place to live, all things considered,â Zahra lamented with a nod, wiping the crumbs from her face, âThough I admit, even the word slave leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.â Treated well or not. Of course, heâd know better than she would.
Still, it represented a complete lack of freedom. A tether bound to ankles. A way of life she couldnât imagine. Not just in a moral sense, though she still detested it. While Tevinter expressed the apex of slavery in Thedas⊠Rivain was fairly open in trade, even if its cargo were made of flesh and bone.
âI was set to marry someone from there,â she wasnât sure why sheâd even said it. It wasnât something she usually shared, or even mentioned at all. Maybe, it was easier to share something when someone else did, âA magisterâs son. Mightâve bumped into you, if Iâd went along with it.â She swung a gaze down at Khari and rolled her eyes, grinning, âCan you imagine? Me, lofty wife?â
A trophy. Sold off by their own family. It was a tradition sheâd never understood.
âI almost ended up in Tevinter, once." Khari bit into one of the tarts and shrugged. âI was just a kid, but I spent a lot of time in the woods by myself, in a region with lots of bandit gangs. I think you can guess what happened." She snorted, arching both eyebrows at Zahra. âAnd I dunno. I could kinda see it. You dragging some poor lady around, pulling the wool over the eyes of everyone in court. Scourge of dignified personages everywhere. Like a fireball into one of their fancy organized topiaries." Her grin suggested she quite liked the idea.
âI can picture it,â Zahraâs laugh had lost its bitter bite, and the crinkle around her eyes was genuine. It wasnât a far stretch imagining Khari running through the woodsâthough it surprised her that sheâd done it alone. Sheâd half expected her to drag a crew along for whatever misadventures she could muster up, âBut you were too quick for them, I bet.â How different would their lives have been if Khari had been shuttered away in Tevinter? If Rom hadnât broken his physical chains? If sheâd surrendered herself to her fate?
She scratched at her chin. The way Khari imagined it would go⊠didnât sound so bad. Bedding someone she had no desire or attraction to, with the expectancy of bearing an heir was much less appealing. A man, no less. She didnât think she had the political know-how to manipulate lords and ladies anyhow, much less a court of snob-nosed dignitaries. âTheyâd probably retire me to the dungeons for not keeping my mouth shut.â
âA fireball in court, though. I could get behind that.â
She opened her hand skyward and flexed her fingers, staring between her knuckles for a moment. The redness was fading with each session she had with Asala and the scars looked less unappealing. Fortunately she wasnât as pale as Skyholdâs peaks, because her dark skin tended to camouflage it for the most part. Unless someone were to look at it closely, or if the light touched it at certain angles, one might not notice the spiderweb flesh threading up her arm and into shoulder. At least, it was something she constantly told herself. The Inquisition harbored plenty of scarred individuals. People didnât wage war against dragons and Gods without acquiring at least a few.
Zahra dropped her hand to her side and shook her head. Of course, thatâs not why she was out here. Sheâd found a nice spot up one of the tallest towers, hidden behind a latched door. Perhaps, it wasnât meant to be explored. But who would stop them? Either way, it had a spectacular view of the mountains surrounding their little keep, and she wanted to share it with someone else. Sheâd already stolen into the kitchen, and slipped several sweet tarts into her handkerchief, before darting back outside. A little encouragement to steal a particular person away from her studiesâif thatâs what she could call it. Pounding on dummies, and people. An education in bruises, more like.
As soon as she rounded the bend, she slowed her footsteps and took to leaning against the fence surrounding the practice yard. She leaned her elbows across one of the beams and watched Khari for a moment.
âCare for a break? Iâve got sweets to share,â she cleared her throat and laughed, âand another person to recruit on the way.â
Khari seemed to be at her practice alone at the moment, which was probably a good sign. She had actual instructors these days, or something like that. Fancy-looking fellow in fancy-looking armor. But neither he nor Estella nor anyone else was around at the moment, and it took Khari only a couple of seconds to decide, shrugging her shoulders. âGimme a couple minutes to stow my gear, but sure." She had said she wasn't much of a sweets person, but the company seemed to be more than enough incentive, anyhow.
Once she'd shed her armor and weapons and properly put them away, she shook out her loose shirt a little, peeling it away from her skin now that she didn't need to wear metal over it anymore. She was a bit sweaty, but as far as either of them could tell, she didn't smell that bad. Once they were back where they'd started, she tilted her head. âAre we looking for Rom, or someone else?"
Zahraâs grin widened as soon as she accepted the invitation. She wasnât very good at taking no for an answer, anyhow. She probably wouldâve pestered her into going eventually. Wearing people down was a skill of hers. Sheâd tied the bundle of goods to the sash wound around her waist. It bounced against her hip, but she supposed theyâd still be in good shape by the time they reached their destination.
âGood guess, thatâs where I was headed next,â she tilted her head and flourished a hand in front of her, indicating that she should take the lead, âDonât suppose you know where heâs hiding?â
âMost likely the undercroft; let's try there first."
âFirst stop: Undercroft,â Zahra affirmed with an arched eyebrow. Sheâd often wondered what he did down thereâlast sheâd seen, with all the various weights and contraptions, she figured he and Khari were pretty similar. Always training to become stronger, in whatever form they could. If she was being honest, sheâd never been one to try all that hard. Training with Marcelineâs rapiers was possibly one of the most difficult things sheâd undertaken. Studying those dry books, however, had proven much worse than sweating as she practiced her footwork.
Sheâd improved over the last few months. Become less clumsy with her blades; enough that Marceline complimented her on her form, though it was difficult to tell if she wasnât just trying to make her feel better. A bow always felt better in her hands; she never thought she wouldâve gained new callouses, ripped over the old ones. But here she was. An old dog learning new tricks.
It didnât take them long to reach the Undercroft. Though sheâd only been there a handful of times, Zahra often occupied herself by drunkenly exploring Skyholdâs hidden pathways whenever she could. Which was often, as she often took residence in the Herald Restâs corner⊠listening to the lovely singing lass whoâd already begun writing songs about her companions. Of a feisty redhead who fought like a bear. She enjoyed hearing them.
The door had been left slightly ajar⊠which was odd, considering how mysterious the room was. There was an even stranger noise inside. The clanking of metal? She glanced sidelong at Khari and shrugged her shoulders, tipping the door open with the toe of her boot. Let it be known, she wasnât one for embracing privacy. For good measure, she wrapped her knuckles on the wood of the door and added, âYou in there, ducky?â
"It's." Clang. "Open." Clang.
Upon entering, they were once again treated to the sight of Rom with his shirt off, rippling musculature of his upper body straining as he held onto a metal bar suspended by a series of rungs fastened into the wall. He was about halfway up it at this point, each burst of effort carrying him one rung higher with another metallic clang. When he finally reached the top, he let go with one hand, still dangling by the other and twisting the quarter turn necessary to look at them.
"Are we going somewhere?"
Zahraâs snort idled somewhere between a laugh and beaming smirk. She elbowed Khari softly in the ribs, and waggled her eyebrows. Her expression fell quick enough for Rom to miss. Besides, she somehow doubted that she wouldâve caught onto her razingâthe girl was strange when it came to anything that resembled intimacy, or else⊠maybe she was a little too straight-forward. Blunt as a dull blade. Definitely difficult to tease. Even so, she wasnât blind enough not to notice the connection they had, or the looks Rom shot her. Poor lad.
âA little adventure, is all,â she proposed and held the bundle aloft, âI found this nice little place with an incredible view. Up high. So, you might want a shirt.â A laugh rattled free from her lips as she swung the folded handkerchief back over her shoulder, âThough I donât think anyone would complain if you didnât.â In all likelihood, they probably wouldnât. There were plenty of young women, and men, whoâd ogle the Inquisitionâs motley crew. From the handsome elf, to the beautiful Commander, and all of their pretty women, it wasnât any wonder when she heard the barmaids whispering.
Taking the bar in both hands again, Rom wrenched it back and fell to the ground, landing smoothly with a slight bend through his legs. He laughed softly a bit, clearing his throat. "Right. Give me a minute." He grabbed a towel, setting down the bar on a table, where he snatched a small, drained potion bottle, still with a few not yet dried drops of some bright orange-colored liquid. He carried the bottle over to his alchemy station, setting it down with a few others, and took a drink of what was probably water from a skin.
"I could use a break, sure." He wiped away the sweat quickly, throwing a shirt over his head and grabbing his cloak on the way towards them. "A good view sounds nice."
Nosy as Zahra was, sheâd noted the oddly-colored liquid sloshing around in the vial he carried. How could she not? It was bright orange. Orange like the sunset when it crept up the horizon, painting everything it touched. She made a humming noise, but made no mention of it. Perhaps, normally she would have, but sheâd learned over the course of their stay in Griffonâs Keep that if Rom had no intention of sharing something⊠he avoided it entirely. Prying was ineffective, much to her dismay.
âThis way, then.â She stood back from the door to allow him through and took the lead once more. This time, their destination took them through winding corridors and past a pantry with stacked bottles. Old vintages sheâd found when she was probing Skyholdâs belly for something interesting. There was plenty to find in this old place, if one looked hard enough. Almost seemed as if she found something new every day. Then, there were stairs. Many, many stairs. While Rom and Khari mightâve not minded the physical exertion, Zahra disliked it.
Not enough to dissuade her from showing them, but enough that she held her breath to keep from panting. How embarrassing that would be. Archers hardly ran, though. A good excuse as any. Better to pin someoneâs tongue from afar, then skip around close, dodging blades in a pool of sweat. When they reached the rickety wooden ladder, she swept her hand in front of her, and took the first step. Sheâd already climbed it before, and it had held. Not much different from swaying on ropesâadmittedly, sheâd trust any shipâs ropes over some of the things sheâd found in Skyhold.
As soon as she reached the wooden latch, Zahra pushed it open and felt a breeze sweep past her face. A welcomed one, as sweat was already trickling down the back of her neck. She hauled herself up another step and pushed the latch clear, thumping it off to the side, in order to allow the others through. Pulling herself onto the tower's spacious platform, she plopped the bundle down and stretched out her arms wide, feeling the crack of bones in her shoulders. The view really was amazing. It faced the largest section of mountains, on the northern side. Kind of looked like three fingers, cutting into the clouds. The wind was stronger up here, as well, though she doubted they would mind.
The breeze was strong enough to stir Khari's hair around her head, or at least the little ones that always escaped from her vivid red braid, wayward curls left to float about her crown. It rippled through her linen shirt as well, like it might tug at a pennant hoisted from the tower roof, but the elf didn't seem to mind. âYou know me: always happy to feel a little taller." She grinned, settling herself down into a crosslegged position that faced her out towards the mountains, still visible through the gaps in the crenelations, at least. âSometimes more than a little, I guess."
"I'd sneak to the top of towers in Minrathous sometimes," Rom reminisced, making his way to one of the corners and peering out over the edge. "On business, usually, though sometimes I'd find excuses. A... friend of mine would pick out the locations, advise me on my route, pick the locked doors. We enjoyed looking down on the city. We were a different kind of small then, I suppose." He took a step back, observing the impressive height of the Frostbacks all around him.
"Here you climb to the top of the tallest towers, and the world still dwarfs you on all sides." He didn't seem to mind it, though, turning and settling his back into the corner, clearly relaxed with the height.
Somehow, the thought of a small, wee Rom scurrying through towers, looking down at the city that seemed to dwarf him⊠felt like it painted a better picture of him. Zahra had never thought to prod of his past. There were things there, scars that ran deeper than sheâd care to scratch. Everyone did, she supposed. The Inquisition was ripe with damaged, broken people. Birds of a feather, flocked together. Besides, dredging up painful pasts wasnât something she enjoyed. Even she had boundaries.
She, too, understood what it was like to feel small. Not just physically. Growing up in a shitty fishing village had a habit of making you feel so small that youâd be gobbled up by the world. She nodded her head and unraveled the bundle holding the sweet tarts, snatching one up to nibble on as they talked. Sheâd taken one of the corners as well, leaning her back against the stone ledge so that she could still face them. âSkyholdâs allure. Sometimes, I think itâs the Inquisition that feels so big Iâm not sure what to do with it.â
Zahra shoved the rest of the sweet tart in her mouth and spoke around it, âMinwafous, waf was da like?â Manners? None. As soon as she swallowed, she thumped her chest and added, âNever been there.â
Khari didn't hide her interest in what his answer would be, though there was a hint of caution in her expression as well. As though she might not have chosen to ask it herself.
Perhaps Zahra had caught him in a good mood, as he didn't seem disinclined to discuss it. "Ask around the south and they'd tell you it's a den of evil. Birthplace of sin, or something. Maybe in some rooms, at some times. But Minrathous is just a city when it comes down to it. A warm one, at least; the weather is almost always nice. As long you don't mind rain in the summers." It wasn't so different to Rivain in that regard, considering how far north it was.
"Every city has its own personality. Minrathous revolves around magic, and the slave trade can become overbearing when a magister puts some scheme into play. But there are rich and poor, young and old. Glassy eyed soldiers back from Seheron or marines from the Ventosus. Most slaves suffer no worse than the poor in the south, especially the elves. Some slaves can live quite comfortably, with the right master."
He fell silent for a moment, perhaps pondering that and how it related to him. "What I did bought me freedoms in some ways and restrictions in others. I don't know if I'm best suited to tell you what the city is like, as it wasn't often I allowed myself to live it, so to speak."
âThatâs a shame, then. Sounds like a nice place to live, all things considered,â Zahra lamented with a nod, wiping the crumbs from her face, âThough I admit, even the word slave leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.â Treated well or not. Of course, heâd know better than she would.
Still, it represented a complete lack of freedom. A tether bound to ankles. A way of life she couldnât imagine. Not just in a moral sense, though she still detested it. While Tevinter expressed the apex of slavery in Thedas⊠Rivain was fairly open in trade, even if its cargo were made of flesh and bone.
âI was set to marry someone from there,â she wasnât sure why sheâd even said it. It wasnât something she usually shared, or even mentioned at all. Maybe, it was easier to share something when someone else did, âA magisterâs son. Mightâve bumped into you, if Iâd went along with it.â She swung a gaze down at Khari and rolled her eyes, grinning, âCan you imagine? Me, lofty wife?â
A trophy. Sold off by their own family. It was a tradition sheâd never understood.
âI almost ended up in Tevinter, once." Khari bit into one of the tarts and shrugged. âI was just a kid, but I spent a lot of time in the woods by myself, in a region with lots of bandit gangs. I think you can guess what happened." She snorted, arching both eyebrows at Zahra. âAnd I dunno. I could kinda see it. You dragging some poor lady around, pulling the wool over the eyes of everyone in court. Scourge of dignified personages everywhere. Like a fireball into one of their fancy organized topiaries." Her grin suggested she quite liked the idea.
âI can picture it,â Zahraâs laugh had lost its bitter bite, and the crinkle around her eyes was genuine. It wasnât a far stretch imagining Khari running through the woodsâthough it surprised her that sheâd done it alone. Sheâd half expected her to drag a crew along for whatever misadventures she could muster up, âBut you were too quick for them, I bet.â How different would their lives have been if Khari had been shuttered away in Tevinter? If Rom hadnât broken his physical chains? If sheâd surrendered herself to her fate?
She scratched at her chin. The way Khari imagined it would go⊠didnât sound so bad. Bedding someone she had no desire or attraction to, with the expectancy of bearing an heir was much less appealing. A man, no less. She didnât think she had the political know-how to manipulate lords and ladies anyhow, much less a court of snob-nosed dignitaries. âTheyâd probably retire me to the dungeons for not keeping my mouth shut.â
âA fireball in court, though. I could get behind that.â