A carpenter Bastien is not. Unless someone's overseeing his work, he won't be rebuilding any of the burnt-out walls in the secret room beneath the boarding house. But he can dust—if mopping up thick layers of ash with damp rags counts as dusting—and make up beds with the best of them, and more importantly, he can sit crooked on the edge of the billiards table and take a smoke break. What's a bit more ash?

"Gloves aren't as popular here," he observes. It makes sense; it's hot, and even the light summer gloves favored in Orlais would be uncomfortable. But it makes a simple solution to one of Riftwatch's oldest problems more difficult. "It's only Tav who an anchor—"

He pauses, holds up a finger to indicate he's not finished, and sneezes twice. But it's not his cigarette's fault.

"—right? In Scouting."