"South, for starters," Sorrel says, and for a moment grips the staff, not letting it go, "If all you need is a stick, we'll get you one. But if you're a mage..."

He lets the staff go, meaningfully, and turns away. Good enough, shem.

"We're in Tevinter, now: if the Baron didn't mean to sell us to Corypheus by way of the Venatori, he meant to sell us into slavery outright. So. South. Cross the border somehow, and don't get caught. Eventually we'll find a road, or a landmark, and get pointed towards Kirkwall. In the meantime, try not to die of thirst."