[ That seems like such an easy thing to him now, leaving one clan for another clan. Probably because he doesn't know much about the distinctions between Dalish clans. And because he's twenty years removed from being the child who threw a years-long fit over being sent away from Redcliffe. And not thinking of it correctly—it would be more like leaving the Wardens than leaving a place. But he's not thinking of it that way, and it sounds easy, and for a moment he looks indignant on Pel's behalf, before her question makes him try to smile and mostly fail. ]

Zevran found out and told her she had to tell me. She's here. We'd spoken before. [ He picks up another pinecone, tosses it up once to alert her. ] She couldn't have kept me. She's a mage. [ He flings the pinecone as far as he can, at an angle. ] Could have written, though. She knew where I was. Everyone else was lying for her. She says she made Maric promise—I've hated him so much.

[ That's a lot of words, for him, without a joke in sight. When he notices, he wrinkles his nose and says, ] Why are high dragons so irritable?