Harod entered the tavern accompanied by three bodyguards, each two heads taller than him, and walked straight to the dwarf innkeeper's counter. The dwarf was wiping a glass with an off-white cloth, but as soon as he spotted the half-elf and his bodyguards, the glass slipped from his hand and shattered on the wooden floor. One of the elf serving girls hurried over to sweep it up, though not before casting a puzzled glance at the innkeeper.

"Am I really that frightening, Tharoden? Or are you up to no good?" Harod leaned on the counter, suspicious.

"What? No, of course not! But your bodyguards are really imposing fellows," the dwarf glanced at them and then tried to smile. "How can I serve you? A drink?"

"I don't want anything. I'm here to check on the girls."

"Oh." The innkeeper nodded, pretending to understand.

"Which room is Dina in?"

Tharoden's thick, stubby finger pointed to the door of Zevran's door on the balcony. "But... why are you interested in her? Has something happened?"

"Nothing at all," Harod replied quickly. His presence here was telling, just as Tharoden's odd reaction was. They both knew the other was hiding something. Nonetheless, Harod continued to act as if he were the one in charge. "What do you know about her client?"

Tharoden picked up another glass and began wiping it, as if he had much work to do, shrugging his shoulders uncertainly. "Not much. Some sort of adventurer."

"An adventurer? Are you sure about that?" Harod eyed the dwarf sceptically, prompting him to shake his head.

"I don't know; he seemed like one at first glance. But I can't keep track of everyone; so many people come through here."

Harod scowled. "Of course. And is he alone?"

"That, I don't know either. I suppose not; only beggars and wanderers travel alone around. But I can't tell you who he came with. When he handed over the money, he was alone."

"I see," the half-elf muttered, nodding as he pushed himself away from the counter and glanced up at the balcony. Over his shoulder, he called out to one of his bodyguards. "Did you bring it?" The man nodded. Harod looked back at the innkeeper and gestured with his chin. "I hope everything is in order, as agreed."

"Of course, everything's in order, as agreed," Tharoden forced a grin. "The man came, got the girl, and that's that. What else would have happened?"

The dwarf's face was now overly defensive.

"We'll see about that," he said, and then started up the stairs.

The innkeeper's wife, a stocky, red-haired woman who had been eavesdropping in the background, stepped up behind her husband and whispered, "Did he figure it out?"

"No, of course not!" Tharoden muttered back as he watched the half-elf walk away.

"But he suspects something! Where's he going now?"

"He's going to check on them."

"What? On his own courtesan? Is he out of his mind?"

"I don't know. Just stay quiet! Don't draw too much attention."

Harod reached the balcony but stopped all three of his bodyguards at the top of the stairs. He walked alone to Zevran's room. Leaning towards the door, he listened.

Downstairs, the two dwarves exchanged glances.

Hearing nothing, Harod knocked. No answer. He knocked again. Then, placing his hand on the handle, he called through the crack.

"Sir? Do you need anything? Perhaps a drink?"

The noise of the tavern below murmured softly, but even so, Harod would have bet anything that no sound came from the room.

He opened the door, first just a crack, then when he heard the silence inside and saw the empty bed, he angrily slammed the door against the wall, stomped in, and stopped in the middle of the room. The blanket on the bed lay neatly arranged by the inn staff, untouched by either courtesan or anyone else, and there were no discarded clothes on the floor as one might expect. Zevran's two scimitars lay in their place, and Harod glared at them with disdain. Then, intrigued, he slowly walked towards the balcony. There he found the remnants of dinner on the small table: half-empty mugs of almond beer and gnawed bones from beef ribs. He walked around the table and stumbled upon Dina's tiny slippers. He looked down and saw Zevran's boots lying apart from each other.

"What the...?"

He narrowed his eyes, scanning the courtyard and the forest beyond, but saw no ropes or footprints. Then he looked up at the sky.

"This can't be," he whispered in disbelief, staring at the dark clouds drifting across the sky. "It just can't be!" His hand clenched into fist, then stormed back through the room and down the stairs.

"Hey, wasn't that guy just coming out of Zevran's room?" Alistair raised an eyebrow, pointing.

Morrighan turned around. "He looks pretty pissed. Let's see what's going on."

Harod rushed to the counter and slammed his fist on the surface. "Dina isn't here! She's gone! And you knew, you wretched, stupid dwarf! You covered for them!"

Tharoden seemed to shrink behind the counter, the noise in the tavern quieted, and the revellers stared at the shouting half-elf.

"You knew it! Are you in league with wizards? You're a damned traitor, Tharoden!"

At the mention of wizards, a true silence fell, and some in the tavern began to whisper among themselves. There was a time when the Euthorian Empire was at war with wizards, and no one longed for those lean years to return.

The dwarf, enraged by the accusation, shot back. "What nonsense are you spouting, Harod? Have you lost your mind? What reason would I have to cover for them? Do you think I'm mad? I had no idea they weren't up there! And what wizards are you talking about? There haven't been any wizards around here for years!"

"But they disappeared without a trace from a locked room! What else could it be but magic? They flew away!"

Tharoden gaped in surprise, but Morrighan spoke from behind Harod. The half-elf spun around.

"Excuse me, sir, but you're probably talking about our companion. Is there a problem? Perhaps we could help?"

Morrighan's voice was polite, but carried a certain threat. Alistair quickly added, "You can be sure Zevran isn't a wizard. I'd stake my life on it."

"What business is it of yours?" The man growled at them before turning back to the dwarf. "I don't care who this guy is, wizard or politician or adventurer, or all of the above, for all I care. But he's not in his room, and Dina is with him, and she belongs to me! Listen here, you poor fool, you'll find the girl and return her to the Red Whirl by tomorrow morning, or I'll make you pay five times her price! Do you understand?"

Leliana shook her head. "I doubt Zevran would have run off. It's not like him at all."

"Yeah. They're probably just having a romantic time," Oghren grumbled, joining the conversation.

"Oh, really? On a flying carpet?" Harod snapped back, then pointed a finger right at Morrighan's face. "Just so you know, taking courtesans off the inn's premises is strictly forbidden! Your companion broke the rules, so as a penalty, you're obliged to pay the brothel double the amount you've already paid!"

The innkeeper and his wife exchanged meaningful looks behind the half-elf's back, sucking their teeth.

But Morrighan had had enough. She stepped forward, confronting Harod's threatening finger, and boldly shot back, "Hold on a minute, sir! Forget about imposing any fines at your whim!"

"Well, dear lady, you will pay!"

"And if we don't, then what?"

The situation was heating up, and the patrons were watching intently. Alistair gripped the hilt of his sheathed sword, casting unfriendly glances at the half-elf, as did Leliana and Oghren.

"What will happen?" Harod glanced at one of his bodyguards. "Show them."

At that, Morrighan was ready to reach for her weapon, but instead of attacking, the bodyguard pulled out a strange, arm-length, thick, colourful cylinder with a cone-shaped end and a fuse hanging from the other. At first glance, probably no one knew what it was; with its colourful stripes, it most resembled a children's toy. Then the bodyguard held a thin stick to the fire and lit the end of the fuse, which began to burn rapidly. Those who saw it barely had time to be scared. The rocket whistled piercingly as it shot skyward, blasting through the inn's roof, sending a few tiles and some debris crashing to the floor near the counter, causing some to jump back in fright. There was complete silence; everyone watched the events unfold in terrified anticipation. Outside, the rocket whistled for a brief moment before it died away with a deep pop.

Harod stood proudly, basking in the terrified gazes, confident that everyone believed the firework to be a rather dangerous weapon for making wizards disappear. Alistair was forced to release the hilt of his sword, realising that no blade would be of any use against such explosions.

"This'll happen!" Harod snapped at Morrighan.

The black-haired woman exchanged glances with her companions. Oghren shook his head in grudging admiration.

"Let's negotiate."

Harod liked the sound of that. Grinning, he faced Morrighan. "I'm listening, madam."

"Please, this is a substantial amount, after all, we paid you for an entire weekend!"

The half-breed straightened up and looked at the woman in surprise. "An entire weekend?" he repeated in disbelief. "No, madam, the first one was free for you!"

"Nonsense! I saw the parchment myself; it clearly stated the sum for an entire weekend! It even had a name, something like tadam..."

Harod's jaw dropped, the word falling from his mouth in astonishment. "Tád a pher...!"

"That's the one!" Morrighan waved him off.

Harod and Morrighan stared at each other for a brief moment, then almost simultaneously turned their heads towards the innkeeper, who was now clutching the dishcloth with both hands, while his wife slunk away from his side.

"I meant to mention it, it just slipped my mind!" he stammered, not very convincingly.

Harod leapt to the counter, slammed his hand down, and grabbing the dwarf by the collar, shouted at him. "They paid tád a pher for one of my girls, and you tried to pocket it?!"

"Not at all, Harod, it's just, you know, everything in its own time, and I hadn't had the chance yet to..."

"Silence! Hand over my money!"

With trembling hands, Tharoden placed his purse on the counter and silently counted out the coins in front of Harod. The half-breed turned to the gawking guests and began shouting joyfully at them. "Did you hear that? They paid tád a pher for one of the Red Whirl's girls! Tád a pher! When was the last time that happened in Perubia? Let everyone who's ever set foot at the Red Whirl be proud! Did you hear that? Did you? Tád a pher! Hahahaa!"

Morrighan watched with disdain before turning to the others and gesturing over her shoulder at the boisterous half-breed. "Let's get out of here, this one's completely mad," she muttered.

Slowly, the sounds of merrymaking began to rise again in the inn, as it became clear to everyone that there wouldn't be a mass brawl.

"So the girl better be here by tomorrow morning, or I'll blow up this whole dive!" Harod gave the already sufficiently intimidated innkeeper one last threat, then, accompanied by his bodyguards, he strode out with large steps. Tharoden worriedly gazed at the few missing tiles on the roof.

When Harod returned home, he found Siss still sitting at the table, drawing another card by the light of the candle.

"Did your cards whisper of great wealth and fame?" the man asked her with a glowing face as he threw off his street cloak with a flourish. The woman indifferently shook her head. "Then toss them out, they're useless!"

Siss sighed wearily. "The spirits of the cards never lie, Harod. Never."

"Of course!" laughed the half-breed.

"What news? You seem in good mood."

"Hah! I'll truly be in good mood when that little tart finds her way home by tomorrow morning!" With that, he abruptly left the woman.

Siss hardly moved, contentedly gazing at the card of Death in the centre. "If she finds her way home."