Alistair manages to compose himself eventually.

Only to go on, "Was it the Maker? Torchlight? The moon? No one knows. But it was as if the Maker cleared his throat and said a very meaningful, 'Ahem,' to our young man here, and he immediately ceased his gallivanting and ran to the nearest Chantry. But! Just when he thought he'd left that life behind, who should he meet but an elf-blooded troublemaker bent on wreaking as much havoc as possible."