"Well you're going to have to start talking sometime," the man sneered so close to the woman's face that she could smell the alcohol on his breath. Silently she stared up at him with quiet rage seething from her black eyes. "And when you start talking
we'll get your name," he finished.
"You will get nothing from me," she spat at him in a thick Antivan accent.
A surprised look crossed his face he never expected her to actually speak. "Ah," he replied, his Ferelden accent almost stark in contrast. "So what
are you an assassin or something?"
The woman's eyes were filled with amusement as a dangerous looking grin crossed her face. Deliberately, she answered, "You come to a country of merchants and yet ask if I am an assassin? It is not wise to know so little of places you visit. It is how
The large man blinked at her cryptic reply. Her arms were tightly bound behind her and she was forced to sit on the dusty ground at their c