While it would be poor form to sneak some Orlesian heraldry out of the Inquisitor's stash and use it to, ahem, power any brazier they might find, the thought does cross Alistair's mind. Oh well.

Digging through a few more crates doesn't yield any rugs -- the best Alistair can locate is a blanket so threadbare it's nearly turned to lace -- but when he heaves one of the boxes aside, he stumbles across a tangle of metal that, with some judicious poking, reveals itself to be a brazier. (Look, ten years of walking into leg traps does eventually give you a smidge of common sense there.) "Worth finding a hammer to bang this into shape?" he asks Cullen, holding it up.

It'll probably work fine how it is. Maybe. Hopefully.