That probably explains why the guards are mostly glaring at her and not at him. Though there could be some other factors here, like that he's a human (so are these people) or that their average skin tone is closer to his or that he wasn't wrestling an injured old man when they showed up. 

Honestly she really suspects that it's because she's an elf wearing armor and a sword - it usually is - but the wrestling an injured old man thing, that's fair.

She's not gonna do anything about it. People can glare at her if they want. They'd heal the old man if they could, but they can't.

The sun is starting to rise; it's not visible yet but it is less dark. The guards route the crowd of staring and gossiping people to one side of the road so other people can use it to get where they are going. 

They put out the fire. A woman in a vibrant green headscarf comes by and takes the injured old man's hand and heals him. 

       "Officer, is this really necessary -"

"Almost certainly not. We've probably got some troublemaking foreign adventurers who tried to rob the place, open and shut, hope they like where they're headed. But the law says, if someone's alleging a restrained person is a magic-user of any kind, you settle that first. He has insurance."

        "He's a good man."

"You know him?" 

         "Not well. But he has insurance, makes offerings for a dead wife, never been in trouble -"

"Did you know the wife?"

         "No. He moved here after she died, I think."

                   "Sold the farm for money to go and see her," someone volunteers.

A tall, balding, bored-looking man walks up. The crowd parts, and bows; the guards nod their heads slightly. He pokes her, and says something. Pokes Draconis, and says the same thing. He steps back and stands.

"Now you can say whatever it is you wanted to say," the guard tells her. "Mind, lying's a crime."

"Thank you. We were pulled into the house's basement several hours ago, magically, by this man. We asked him where we were, he tried to cast another spell, I tackled him, he disappeared. We broke out of his basement and then out of the house, and tried to get a guard, but couldn't find anyone who spoke our language. We decided to stay in the house until morning. He came back, tried to kill me, first with some kind of summoned weapon and then with lightning, and then lit the house on fire when we defended ourselves. We pulled him out, restrained him, and yelled for help before the fire could spread."

The guard looks like he does not believe a word of this. "All right. We're bringing him and you to the courthouse while we investigate this. You'll surrender your weapon and armor, as well as any magic items on your person."

- well that sucks but if they run they are not going to make it out of the city, not alone and without fade access.

"All right. My friend's clothes are enchanted, he'll need something else to wear."

Sigh. "Go get him clothes," he tells someone. 

"Where are you two from?"

"Ferelden. In Thedas," she adds, in case they have somehow ended up not in Thedas.

"Never heard of it. Is that even on this plane?"

" - not really an expert on planes? I still don't actually know where I am."

"You're in Sothis, the city of the Pharaoh."

"I've never heard of that, either."

"In Osirion?"

"Never heard of it. - have you heard of it?"

Headshake. "It's not in Thedas. Different continent or different world."

"The pharaoh is chosen by Abadar, but he might be known by a different name in your world - the god of the First Vault, of Aktun, of commerce and cities and merchants and law -"

- she should probably not automatically label people heathens if they might be on a completely different plane of existence. Possibly the Maker has not been as clear about everything over here, and he's not always very clear even where they're from.

"I'm not aware of any gods besides the Maker. - some elves think there are others, I think, but I wouldn't know their names."

"- what, you've only ever heard of one? Do you live within their realm or something?"

" - I am not sure I know what that means."

"Many gods have a realm that's theirs. They directly control everything in it and are present everywhere in it and every aspect of it suits them. I... think you'd know, if it were that, you'd've seen and served and known them."

"I'm from a city like this one. Smaller, I think, and colder, and with a different language, but a city, with elves and humans and the occasional dwarf. It's the capital city of Ferelden, where our king usually lives. We worship the Maker there, it's a holy city because it's the birthplace of his wife Andraste, but he doesn't live there, not physically, he lives in - somewhere in the fade, I guess. I was not there when I was pulled here, I was in a smaller town that I was in for - complicated reasons."

"What're the teachings of the Maker?"

"Uhh, depends slightly who you ask? He created the world and everything in it, created spirits in his image and elves and humans with the spark of the divine within them? We're not to worship anyone besides the Maker, we're not to practice blood magic, we're not to enter the golden city, our mages are to treat magic as a tool and not as a master, we're supposed to, uh, try to not murder anybody or steal things or - do you want me to try to summarize all of ethics - "

"- so, like, lawful?"

" - we, uh, are supposed to follow laws unless they're unconscionable or illegitimate?"