Ioane isn't thinking about credit or prestige so much as the gnawing concern that Waters is going to be pissed when he finds out. Who will the lout prefer to blame, the elf or the Fereldan? Ioane guesses the elf, given that he's also foreign, and also also an ass.

She'd defend him, maybe try to speak up for him, if he was less of a prick. Her personal code of honor dictates that all people worth defending ought to be defended.

But he's not, so she lets him fiddle with the secret compartment. "Shooting flames?" she says with a roll of her eyes. "Like he'd risk his silks."