Chapter 153: Redemption and Vengeance

The mage was asleep in the bathtub when Anders and I found her. I woke her gently, and the two of us helped her out of the tub and into some clean robes we’d brought from her room. Anders was obviously reluctant to touch her, but Solona showed no signs of nervousness around him, not even worrying about covering herself as she stepped naked out of the tub. I resolved to have a discussion with Anders about allowing her to determine how much contact she wanted – not to assume. She’d already decided she wanted to keep the healer with her – I was hopeful that eventually she’d want him in her bed, too. But it isn’t going to happen if he keeps flinching anytime he looks at her.

Once she was clean, dressed, and mostly alert, I told her about Kirkwall. Explained that Anders was needed there, that Karl was at risk, and that Anders could open a healing clinic in the city – and she could help, if she wanted. It would put her far away from the rest of the Wardens – but still protected by the title, even if she never fought another darkspawn.

“You have to stay protected from templars,” I pleaded. “The risk, if you run away on your own...” I sighed in relief when she shook her head slightly. “The Knight-Commander in Kirkwall is insane, though at least the Chantry has been forewarned about her, but I don’t think she’s mad enough to come after Grey Wardens, mage or not.”

Anders nodded. “Aedan recommended we take another Warden with us, to help provide a barrier between us and the templars. You wouldn’t have to be around them a lot – you could be either in the clinic or we’ll find somewhere to have a home together. Having a Warden who isn’t a mage may placate h--”

Solona interrupted without even waiting to hear the rest of the sentence. “Rolan.” She turned to me. “You wouldn’t be nervous about it if you were sending someone else. You want to send Rolan.”

I nodded slowly. “We can change our plans, if you want. Aedan and Alistair agreed that if you don’t feel comfortable with him, you can veto it. But Aedan was hoping he could send Rolan as protection – he may know some of the templars, and might be able to establish contacts and help ensure that Meredith doesn’t move on you. At least get warning, if she does. And it allows him the chance to--”

“Make up for it.” Her response was terse, and my heart sank. Damnit, she thinks we’re sending him because we don’t trust her, or... She interrupted my internal musing again. “Fine.”

I blinked. “Are you sure? It doesn’t have to be a templar. I don’t think he’d ever hurt you, but I mean it when I tell you that you can say no.”

Her expression softened slightly. “I am. I believe Anders when he says Rolan has seen the error of his ways. He was certainly ... solicitous on our journey here. And when I panicked, he kept his head; he could have dropped me with a smite, but he didn’t. Having someone who can help if I lose control isn’t a bad thing.” She tugged on her hair fretfully, pulling out several long blonde strands; I gave Anders a hard look, and he cringed slightly but reached out to still her hands, not holding hers, but offering the opportunity if she wanted it. She appeared to think about it for a fraction of a second too long, but then slowly wrapped her long fingers around his cautiously until they were holding hands – almost like a normal couple.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Maybe they’ll be okay after all.

She smiled at me shyly. “Besides, I also remember him standing over us, trying to protect us from the darkspawn. I’m sure. Rolan will be fine.”

I nodded. “Okay. I’ll let Aedan know. Anders, can we talk later? I’d like to hear what you’ve learned about Faren, and I have a lot to tell you about Kirkwall.” The mage nodded, face brightening at the mention of interesting new information about the future. “For now, I’ve arranged different quarters for the two of you, if you like. Why don’t we go find my seneschal and see what he managed to figure out?”

I found Levi, and together we led the two mages to a spartan, but clean room down near the kitchens; he assured Solona that no one had been kicked out to make room, and given the fact that the chair and table from her old room were the only furniture apart from the bed, I believed him. He’d thoughtfully even provided a small cot, set up between the bed and the wall; clearly he’d noticed Anders’ bedroll in Solona’s room. Solona tried to insist he would sleep in the bed with her; Anders tried to insist he would be fine on the floor. In the end, Levi and I both crept away to let them figure it out themselves – but I resolved again to have a conversation with Anders later. Treating her like a victim, like she was fragile, was going to drive a wedge between them he couldn’t remove later. He needed to learn to take her cues – and be willing to discuss them with her.

Levi went back to his office – a cozy room next to mine, with a hearth and a desk piled with more paperwork than even I had – and I went to tell Aedan the news. My brother was relieved, and went to inform Rolan of his new posting – and to send ravens to Denerim, letting Cailan know the plan and inquiring after timetables and shipping schedules. I hoped, for Solona’s sake, that they’d be able to depart sooner rather than later. I’d miss her though – I have so few female friends, and they seem to keep leaving me alone with all of these men!

I did find time for a quick, private discussion with my favourite assassin. He started off trying to tell me all the details about the new security measures he and the others had developed; I waved him off with a lazy gesture.

“You lost me after the word ‘security’. I trust you, Zev. Tell me the details if I need to know them, but I don’t insist on knowing the entire discussion. And besides, I wanted to ask you about something else.” I paused, a malicious smile forming on my face. The elf’s eyebrows rose, a smirk hovering about his lips as though he had guessed what I was about to say.

“I need a favour...”

By the time I’d finished explaining my favour, his smirk had been replaced by a vicious, frightening-looking grin of his own, and he’d assured me my favour would be done immediately. On the one hand, I couldn’t believe I had done such a thing, but on the other ... well, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it one little bit.

I only worried for a moment what that said about me.

When the four days were done, Greagoir finally let us in to see the final product. I was a bit surprised, when I thought about it, about how beautiful the end result was. The sarcophagus, made of solid grey stone, had been covered inside and out with designs carved right into the stone; some of them were functional, and I could practically feel the Lyrium pulsing from them, but I guessed that some of them were either decorative – is Greagoir hoping to conceal which runes do what? – or used only to tie the other runes together.

I could be wrong; I’m hardly an expert on magic.

At any rate, the lines and whorls gave an interesting patina to the dull grey stone, and the entire surface had been polished until it shone; it put to shame the sarcophagi we’d seen in Bownammar, and those had been created by dwarves. The stone on the inside had somehow been darkened so that it was almost black; between the colour and the runes, it was mesmerizing to look at and almost seemed to suck in the light around it. I shuddered when I considered how very dark it would be for anyone inside. Mind you, considering who’s going in it, it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy ... creature ... thing.

Not a guy much longer; I had to suppress a slightly hysterical giggle when I was reminded of the contents of the glass jar Zevran had surreptitiously delivered to my office the night before – currently locked in a small chest, which was hidden in a small depression underneath the rug under my desk. I didn’t know whether former-magisters-turned-darkspawn could actually conceive a child, be the father to a Broodmother’s offspring like the other darkspawn could, but the two shrivelled, bloody orbs floating in some sort of preservative fluid in that jar meant that this one never would, even if he was somehow found and rescued in the future.

I’d debated showing Solona before destroying the jar and its contents, and hadn’t yet decided whether that would be a good idea. I knew I’d never show anyone else; it would be a secret Zev and I would both take to our graves. Pyres. Whatever.

To test the sarcophagus’ function, Alim and Jowan each climbed into the stone coffin one at a time, trusting us to let them out within only a few moments. I’d have been terrified – it looked horribly claustrophobic, not to mention it was an actual coffin! – but they seemed rather calm, surprisingly. Both reported the complete inability to even access their mana, never mind cast a spell; Greagoir only looked smugly self-satisfied at our compliments.

Satisfied that his job was done, the Knight-Commander had left us with the sarcophagus and gone to make arrangements to leave for Kinloch in the morning. We had only the one day to fully, finally dispose of the Architect before I would no longer have help holding his mana.

Our first step was to place the Architect into the sarcophagus and test that it worked on him. Alistair, Aedan, Jowan, and Alim moved the unconscious former magister and put him inside; he didn’t stir, even as the lid was closed over him, and once he was inside, I couldn’t even sense his mana, never mind hold it. We didn’t leave him in there long; we couldn’t afford to let him accidentally suffocate, so he couldn’t stay there until the next few steps had been taken. Taking back his mana the moment the sarcophagus opened was simple and easy. I like it when he’s unconscious. Thank the Maker for Avernus and whatever spell is putting him to sleep!

For the next steps we needed secrecy. We wanted everyone to believe that we intended to keep the Architect up in Avernus’ tower, unconscious and safe inside the sarcophagus Greagoir had built, where I would no longer need to control his ability to cast. Really, we hoped that with enough time passing, everyone would more-or-less forget about him entirely. Avernus had offered some sort of blood magic to that effect, but neither Aedan nor Alistair had hesitated even a moment before refusing. Those who knew who or what we had brought back to the Peak knew enough not to tell anyone else; that would be enough for the secret to die in time. And in the meantime, there would be only a handful of us who knew where he was ultimately kept. We would have to hope that was enough.

But we needed some help: Alim to lighten the coffin enough that it could be carried; Jowan, Avernus, Alim, and Anders for the final steps of the plan; and Alistair, Aedan, and a few others to do the actual heavy lifting. We debated who to have help us, but in the end chose Rolan, Conrad, Loghain, and Bel. We felt certain that each person involved could be trusted to keep the secret – and several had their own reasons for wanting to see the end of the Architect. Aedan also extended the invitation to Solona; she wasn’t necessary for the plan, but those of us who knew what she’d been through wondered if it might help her to heal knowing that the Architect could never hurt anyone else.

When we were ready, I was the diversion to allow the sarcophagus – and the Architect – to be moved in secret. I recruited Zevran to challenge the other Wardens to a drinking game in the main hall, far enough from Avernus’ tower that they wouldn’t feel the moving taint signatures as the Architect was moved down the stairs; at the same time, I had organised a ‘community-building exercise’ for all of the non-Warden residents and employees of the Peak in the courtyard outside.

I insisted everyone come; it reminded me of similar events I’d attended for some of the companies I’d been hired by in past, to ‘engage’ their employees when their company was failing. Often as not it was a distraction tactic, trying to keep everyone calm as negotiations for the dismantling or sale of a company were underway; people on Earth were familiar enough with it that it rarely worked, but it was a novel concept on Thedas.

And work it did. We had pulled back all of the soldiers’ patrols, closed the kitchens for the afternoon, and between Levi, Mhairi, Avanna, and me, we had every servant and every soldier in their warmest clothes, taking part in ‘trust exercises’ like ‘minefield’ or ‘free running’, which were both paired exercises where one participant is blindfolded and the other has to guide them either with words or by touch through an obstacle course or running track; trust falls and circle-sit; the ‘human knot’ or blind-folded building exercises. Even Greagoir and his folks – templars, mages, and Tranquil alike – took part. Sometimes we were in one huge group – like the circle-sit, where everyone stood in a circle looking at the next person’s back, and everyone had to sit in the lap of the person behind them in unison so no one would fall. Sometimes we broke into teams and competed – like ‘frostbite’, where one team member was ‘paralysed’ and the rest blindfolded, and the group had to work together to build a shelter from the cold using whatever materials they could scavenge in the courtyard.