Tell me a story she'd asked, as the wagon rattled its way south through Orlais. She gives his hand a squeeze and then lets go, to rub across the back of his shoulder, and then slip her arm between them, turning his other hand palm up on his knee.

"Only a little," she says, "The basics. This is your life line," she traces a fingertip down his palm, "A long line means a long life. This break here means that there was a sudden, significant change early in your life. A turning point. Since then, there have been changes for the worse--these downward branches--and for the better," she traces an upward-pointing offshoot, "Some more significant than others, like this deeper line. You see how this part of the line here looks more like a chain, or two lines entwined? That can mean you will have several different paths open to you that you must choose between, or that you will lead a double life."