"If you don't stop staring at my ass, right now, the darkspawn and the Joining are going to be the least of your worries," she snarled at Davath, whipping the point her sword up to his throat. They'd been out of camp for less than 40 minutes, and she was ready to skewer someone. Anyone would do, but Davath was first in line.
It was possibly the most uncomfortable day she'd spent in her entire short life. It wasn't encountering her first darkspawn that had pushed it over the edge; it was being out alone in the woods with these blasted shem. Darkspawn were frightening, but she'd seen the corpses at camp and been told what to expect from them - vicious, brutal attack, no holds barred. Attack could be countered. Darkspawn were strong, they were gruesome, but they died if you stabbed them enough and they weren't too hard to predict.
The shemlen were another matter.
Davath had spluttered, first a denial, then - at Alistair's frown - an apology. After that he'd at least pretended not to look, though she knew the archer had plenty of opportunity to do what he pleased as he walked along at the back of the group. He made her skin crawl. She'd seen him at camp, leering at every female in visible range, spinning smug tales about his exploits as a city cutpurse to anyone who would listen. He hadn't been able to open a single locked chest that they'd encountered so far, though, which confirmed her suspicions that he was less than he claimed. What Duncan had seen in him worth recruiting she had no idea, though she couldn't deny he was fast and handled his bow well enough (but why should a Denerim thief know anything about archery?). The only thing that would have made Davath harder on her nerves would have been noble status; at least he didn't try to order her about like a servant.
Ser Jory, on the other hand, had plenty of attitude but was probably only stupid. He seemed far too caught up in honor and his own romanticized heroism to bother much with Kallian. He was in for a rude awakening, she figured, but there was no reason it had to be at her hand. So far he had left her well enough alone; if that was largely because of human snobbery, fine. Ignoring her was better than the alternative. His superiority was none of her concern so long as he killed his share of darkspawn and kept his hands and eyes to himself. She'd prefer it if he kept his whining to himself, too, but some things were apparently too much to ask.
That left Alistair, and she didn't know what to make of him at all. He was a warrior and an ex-Templar with the muscles to match, which was enough to make her edgy all by itself. Unlike Ser Jory, he didn't seem the least bit put off by the fact that she was an elf, which ought to have been pleasing but somehow just made her that much more uncomfortable. He didn't leer like Davath, but he noticed her. He hadn't done anything bad – yet – but she'd have felt a lot better if he'd simply pretended she wasn't there.
On the other hand... Alistair would open his mouth and the most ridiculous things would pop out. He almost reminded her of – but no. She wasn't thinking about home, not right now. But she couldn't help but notice that everyone she'd met so far with the exception of the king himself - and who was she to be meeting the king? but that was a separate issue - had been unfailingly serious, even dour. Alistair's cheerful chatter was like a breath of fresh air.
But he was still a shem, and she didn't know what to expect from the way he watched her. It might have been as innocent as curiosity about a new recruit, but… it might not. Attention from shemlen always spelled trouble in Kallian's experience. So she tried not to find him funny, and definitely not to engage him in conversation on any topic other than the Gray Warden order. If only he had been female, perhaps she might have been able to overlook the fact that he was human.
Curse all of them anyway. She shouldn't even be here.
Horrifying was really the only appropriate word to describe the Joining ritual, Kallian decided. There were no enemies to fight, no action to take - they had only to willingly drink blood and lyrium as ritual words were spoken, knowing that the mixture was poison. There was nothing she could do to improve her chances of survival. The feeling of helplessness, of inevitability, made it even worse than the trip through the swamp.
A stab of guilt mingled with Kallian's rising panic as she watched both of her fellow recruits fail the final test. She hadn't liked them, but no one deserved this. Davath stepped up with surprising bravery to drink from the chalice, but choked on the blood, his suddenly white and sightless eyes rolling up as he collapsed. He was dead almost instantly. Worse, neither Duncan nor Alistair seemed surprised. Duncan merely murmured a ritual-sounding, "I am sorry, Davath," and carried the cup toward Ser Jory.
The knight had his rude awakening at last. They were past the point of turning back. When Jory refused the chalice, Duncan took up his sword and ran him through. "I am sorry, Jory," he said. There was no time to do more than gasp before Duncan set down his blade to once again take up the Joining cup. He carried it to Kallian; it was her own turn to drink.
It was all she could do not to spill it. Her hands were shaking wildly and she could hardly breathe. But she didn't drop it, and she did drink. The blood burned like acid all the way down her throat. Her body stiffened out of her control, and she couldn't see. After what felt like hours of writhing agony and nightmare, she awoke to see Duncan and Alistair hovering over her. She'd survived the Joining.
They welcomed her officially as a Grey Warden, and Duncan hauled her to her feet. The world tilted and she almost fell. She was sure she'd have gone down if Alistair's sudden grip on her arm hadn't steadied her. Once she stopped wobbling, he patted her back awkwardly and let go. Duncan was speaking; she caught only that the King's council meeting was already in progress, and she was expected to attend. She could have a moment to get herself together, he said, but it was important that she get there as soon as she was able.
Kallian nodded, swallowing. She managed to wait until he'd turned his back and started away before running to the balcony rail to be painfully and thoroughly sick.
