"It's strange, how much the light seems to help," he says, quietly, his hand fitting into Marcus's with a comforting naturalness. "I remember that, from Denerim. That we'd always be waiting for daylight, even though with torches and magic, it shouldn't make so much difference."

Here, of course, light is a slightly more precious commodity. But he still feels the craving for day goes beyond the practical.

"I suppose the night passes faster, if you're one of those that can sleep," he adds, ruefully, at his own expense. "I suppose eventually you're just exhausted. The Fifth Blight didn't last quite long enough for me to find out. And it seems insensitive to ask."