Many thanks to my fantastic beta reader, Mille Libri!
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Chapter Eleven: Trust
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But—! I start to protest.
No buts, little fox. You can't give her your favorite toy for a week, then run to her two days early and take it back because you think she'll hurt it. Mother crosses her arms across her chest and looks at me sternly. You either trust Shianni, or you do not.
I bite my lip. When she puts it that way… But what if she breaks it? I wail. The porcelain doll is one of my treasures, something Mother brought with her from the faraway land where she was born, and irreplaceable.
You either trust Shianni, she repeats quietly, or you do not.
I look down at my hands, clasped tightly in front of me. It is the anniversary of her parent's deaths, and I know Shianni needs something special to hold onto, some proof that someone loves her still even though her parents are gone. And it is only a doll. And she is Shianni.
I trust her, I whisper quietly. I love her.
She kneels in front of me and hugs me close. Then have patience, little fox. And trust those you love.
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.~^~.~^~.~^~.~^~.~^~.~^~.~^~.
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When Kalindra returned to the refugee camp, she headed towards where she'd last seen her quarry. Her conversation with Alistair, though necessary, had taken more time than she'd planned, and she was afraid her old friend might be impossible to find without additional inquiry – attention she'd rather avoid. She kept her chin down, letting her hastily rearranged hair curtain her face to hide the scars rather than revealing them, as had become her habit since Dunngath. Caution also slouched her shoulders, forcing her body to change the way it moved. She'd rather be clumsy than be identified as someone who could use weapons with skill. She hoped that she herself wouldn't be recognized, new to Ostagar as she had been, but she also knew soldiers and others trained to arms could recognize a fellow fighter by stride alone if they possessed a keen enough eye.
"Appearances can be deceiving," Slim's voice echoed in her head as she picked her way through the morass of humans and elves, "so it is best to be the deceiver." The advice had served her well on more occasions than she could readily recall, and served her well as she saw eyes again and again slide off of her, dismissing her as just another elf fleeing the Darkspawn.
A flash of red hair caught her attention, and she altered her path to intercept it, carefully maintaining her awkward posture and shy demeanor. Relief flooded through her when she found Nessa deep in conversation with her own mother, and she pondered how best to catch only Nessa's attention when the woman stood and turned around, face intent. Quickly Kalindra moved to a location out of sight of Nessa's mother, and waited.
When Nessa passed within a couple of feet, Kalindra reached out and took her arm, voice quiet as she said, "Nessie?" It was a nickname her friend abhorred as much as Kalindra hated to be called Kallie, but she was certain that no one else would know the name outside of those still in Denerim. Nessa gasped and turned to her, eyes wide, before suddenly embracing her. A bit taken aback, Kalindra returned the gesture, patting Nessa on the back in a comforting manner. After a few silent moments, she ventured, "I'm glad you made it out."
"You have no idea how glad I am to see you," Nessa whispered, a quiver in her tone. After another moment, she pulled back, wiping at her cheeks, and beamed a smile at her. "Come on, let's find someplace more private to talk." Her eyes darted quickly around the camp. "And we do need to talk."
Not completely reassured by this declaration, Kalindra followed her, alert and wary for an indication that someone had noticed anything out of ordinary besides two friends reunited. By the time Nessa halted beside a copse of trees, she was fairly certain no one had noticed, but Nessa's obvious discomfort disquieted her. As soon as they drew to a full stop, she asked, "What's wrong? Why are you so nervous?"
"It's Loghain," Nessa replied in a low voice, not missing a beat. "He announced that the Grey Wardens were responsible for the death of King Cailan, and then put a price on your heads. A fairly substantial one, at that. One that any number of people here in this very camp would be more than willing to collect."
Kalindra felt her blood turn cold. Her worst fears were confirmed, though she wasn't particularly surprised. Loghain needed a scapegoat to explain Cailan's death and deflect attention away from his own actions at Ostagar. "He really doesn't believe it's a Blight," she murmured, disbelief warring with resignation at the realization. Why else make it more difficult for those of us who are supposed to end it?
Confused, Nessa said, "What?"
"Nothing." She shook her head. "Were there any descriptions?"
Nessa nodded. "And I recognized yours right away."
"Let me guess: an elf woman with scars on her face." She grimaced when Nessa nodded again. "That makes it harder for me to get around." She reached up and tugged at her bangs. "Does the hair work to cover them up?"
Pursing her lips, her friend reached out and ran her fingers through Kalindra's hair for a few moments, tweaking the ends here and there. "Not for any long period of time, but certainly for first glances and impressions it will. I'd suggest braiding your hair to disguise its length, but I remember how stubborn your hair is about being contained." A grin tugged at her lips.
Kalindra sighed. "And still is." Any attempt to braid her long tresses came undone within an hour, even when tightly wound. She could lash it into a tail, but even then much of it would escape by the end of the day. "Who else? I mean, who else did they describe? And did they use names?"
"Names, yes, though only two names and descriptions. Yours and that Warden you were looking for before, Alistair." Kalindra kept her face neutral when Nessa gave her a questioning glance as if to ask if he were still alive, and Nessa only hesitated a moment before continuing. "Yours is the most distinctive. I mean, Alistair is described, but trying to find a specific tall man of strong build with brown hair in Ferelden is a bit more like finding a needle in a haystack than trying to find..." Her eyes traced the scars on Kalindra's face. "It's not like Wardens have a tattoo or something, so at least there's nothing definitive. But I would be cautious. Very cautious. Even the Templars were told to keep a watch for Grey Wardens and detain them. I overheard the order when I went to the Chantry to see if they had any food or water for the refugees." She snorted. "What a wasted trip that was. The sister had just given some bread to some shem in front of me, but as soon as they saw my ears, they suddenly had nothing to give out."
"At least in Denerim we had Mother Boann. She tried, at least, poor woman." A smile came to her face as she thought of the hardworking woman, one of the only Chantry clergy she'd ever met that she respected. A good portion of Kalindra's earnings had circumspectly been funneled through Mother Boann to fund food and supplies for the orphanage in the Alienage. The smile faded into a frown as she wondered who would take care of the orphans now. Life in the Alienage was difficult enough, but surviving without parents was impossible without another's aid. Shaking her head to push the unwelcome thought away, she focused on Nessa. "Tell me, how did you escape? When I heard about what happened at Ostagar, I—"
"Thought I was dead? I thought the same of you." Again they exchanged a quick embrace. "I actually owe it all to a shem, of all things. We made it out of Ostagar because one of Loghain's lieutenants, Ser Cauthrien, assigned a squad of soldiers to escort all the servants to a staging area north of Ostagar just as the battle was getting underway. The squad said that we were just supposed to wait there until it was safe to return to camp – after the battle was won, I mean – but the next thing we knew, Ser Cauthrien herself appeared with another squad and told us to follow her. We had to leave everything but our money and what we could grab easily behind, but we managed. We didn't know at the time what had happened in the battle – we just assumed that it had gone poorly. Then we started hearing what the men said, about leaving everyone behind without a fight…"
"Did they all feel that way?" Kalindra asked quickly. Surely they couldn't all blame the Wardens…
"Well, no. Some of them – especially the officers – felt that Loghain made the right choice, that it would have been suicide to enter the battle. Others, mostly those who had lost friends or family, think it's just a bid for the throne through his daughter, the Queen. Then there are those who say they don't have the right to judge, that he's the General and whatever he decided was right. I do know that…" She gulped, her face paling a little bit. "…that some of the survivors from Ostagar reached us. They… they had to be killed."
"The taint," Kalindra whispered. Duncan had warned her about what could happen to someone who was exposed to the taint and spent too long near Darkspawn or in blighted lands. "I'm glad you made it out alive."
"Well, we couldn't keep up with them for the whole trip. Father twisted his ankle, so we we were forced to slow down. He wasn't the only one the army left behind, either, even though a couple of soldiers from Highever volunteered to stay with us. Their lieutenant said they had better things to do than 'waste time on that trash.'" Suddenly her eyes glistened and her voice hitched. "A few of the other servants stayed with us, to help us reach Lothering. We would have been fine except for the bandits. And even then, if Father had just… had just done what they said…" The tears spilled over, and Nessa leaned against Kalindra, sobbing into her shoulder.
He must have been killed, she thought, and the rage flared within, deep down. "They took all you had and more?" Her arms wrapped around Nessa, and she thought about the bruises and scrapes on her body. When the first bout of crying had lessened, she asked in a gentle voice, "They didn't—"
"N-no, b-but only be-because they saw m-more people coming." Nessa leaned back and rubbed her nose and face on her sleeve, since a kerchief was a luxury she could only dream of in her current circumstances. "I g-guess they figured money was m-more important than… than that. Poor Mother…"
Kalindra's mind was working furiously. Without money, food, or transport, there was no possible way Nessa and her mother would survive long enough to reach the next town, much less return to Denerim or make it to Highever. "These bandits… they were on the main road coming in?"
"Y-yes. I'm surprised they didn't go after you."
"We avoided them." She mentally cursed a moment as she realized that she'd just confirmed she wasn't alone, then realized she'd have to extend some trust in this situation. Better to give it to someone I at least already know. "Listen, we were going to try to resupply and get our armor fixed here."
"Good luck with that," Nessa muttered. "If you're not a shem, you won't get help. And since the only shem with you is probably a Grey Warden…"
Kalindra nodded, preferring not to mention that her other companion was an apostate, and even less welcome than Grey Wardens were at the moment. "I know. But there's another source of funds that could help us both. I'm good at certain kinds of persuasion, after all."
Her friend's eyes widened as she absorbed Kalindra's meaning. "You mean—" Clutching at her arm, Nessa's face grew very intent. "Promise me you'll kill the leader. He was the one who struck the blow. He laughed."
"They'll die like the dogs they are, I promise you," she whispered. "And I'll come back with something for you. I won't let you starve or stay here to die, not if I can prevent it." For a moment, Nessa's face wavered in front of her, replaced by a head with hair of purer red and green eyes. Shianni. Blinking rapidly, she shook her head to dismiss the vision. She would have helped Nessa regardless of her past promises to others, of course, but she couldn't deny that the small lingering love for her cousin guided her actions here. "Go wait with your mother."
Nessa nodded, tears threatening again, and hugged Kalindra wordlessly before letting her go.
Her caution redoubled, Kalindra left the camp, even going so far as to wait for a few moments just out of sight over its outskirts to make sure she hadn't been followed. By the time she had returned to her companions, the anger was burning in her chest, swelling from the painful knot in her stomach to spread like a tingling haze through the rest of her body. She would make the shems pay.
They would all pay.
.~^~.
The fight was short and dirty, a brevity aided by the fact that she recognized the amulet hanging around the bandit leader's neck as a necklace she herself had given to Nessa. Too valuable to wear openly in the Alienage save for festivals and other special occasions, it was precisely the kind of item a desperate daughter would give up to save her father's life. The rage induced by that single thought enabled Kalindra to ignore the surprise on the bandits' faces when she attacked without provocation, to discount their claims of wives and children, and to work past the pain as an arrow found her arm and a blade slipped past her defenses enough to graze her neck before being swatted away.
Only when they all lay dead at her feet, when she could kneel next to the still form of Nessa's father to straighten his limbs and close his staring eyes, when she'd ripped the amulet from around the neck of the bandit leader and shoved it into the pouch around her waist, only then did the pain penetrate, both from her wounds and from her gut. Ignoring Morrigan as the witch came to her side to tend to the arrow, she dropped her daggers and sat back on her heels, staring blankly at the windmill in the distance. Fen'len came up to her with a whine, licking at the blood on her arms and face before being shooed away by the golden-eyed mage.
"The drool of that mangy beast will surely do your wounds no good," Morrigan muttered as her fingers edged around the arrow embedded in Kalindra's arm. "You should have waited for the fool to engage them first. Useless as he is otherwise, he is at least good for—" Kalindra turned to stare at the woman, and something in the elf's gaze made Morrigan's mouth snap shut and tend to the wound with a renewed focus.
Alistair, however, felt no such need to hide his displeasure. As his now-clean sword slid home into its sheath, he glared at her from his position a few feet away. "You could have been killed, charging at them alone like that!"
She turned her gaze to him, staring at him dully. She vaguely knew that normally she would have met his anger with anger of her own, but suddenly it just all felt so… useless. Without thought for her words, she whispered, "And if I had?"
The words were like a blow: the man literally staggered backwards, eyes widening. After a quick moment he recovered, ignoring Morrigan's presence, as he knelt and seized one of Kalindra's hands, expression a mixture of agony and pleading. He waited until her gaze reluctantly rose to meet his, then tightened his grip. "You're alive," he whispered. "I need you to stay that way."
Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she recalled that raw moment when he'd burst through the door of the hut in the Wilds, the pain still on his face after being informed that all the other Wardens - his family - had been killed at Ostagar. She swallowed harshly, unable to avert her eyes, and finally nodded, knowing the gesture to be a promise.
He squeezed her hand again, then rose, ears a bit red as he finally broke eye contact. "I'll, uh… I'll just look around a bit, shall I?"
His obvious awkwardness made a brief smile come to her lips as she watched him bend over the bandits and dig through their pockets with a grimace. As the focus required for battle faded, the pain increased, and she winced as Morrigan closed a bandage tight around her arm with a final tug. "Thank you, Morrigan. You've clever hands."
The golden eyes blinked. "I—I thank you." Her surprise at the compliment made Kalindra realize how little they had spoken outside of empty conversation, small talk which the woman always seemed to bow out of quickly.
I really should speak with her more, Kalindra mused. It wasn't the woman's fault she had basically been foisted on them by her mother. Kalindra had noticed that Morrigan never sought either herself or Alistair out for conversation, but perhaps that was more habit than anything else. After all, she'd grown up with Flemeth. Still, she didn't feel like talking at this exact moment, so she waited silently as Morrigan tended to her neck before rising to her feet. "I'll need to return to Lothering in that dress, so hopefully the bandages won't show too much. I'm hoping I'll be able to get a cart or something to take our supplies in to the smith. I hardly think an elf could carry two suits of armor into the village unnoticed." She sighed and rubbed her eyes for a moment as she hitched her shoulder to ease the ache in her arm. "Or carry them both at all, with this arm." A sigh escaped her. "Let's go get me in that dress."
Later, clad once more in the ill-fitting cotton dress with the liberated coins wrapped silently into two separate pouches and her hair splashed around her shoulders to hide the injuries, she re-entered the refugee camp. Again, she appeared awkward in gait, head ducked down as was the habit of those elven girls with limited mental capacity, and searched for a glimpse of her friend.
Just when she was starting to wonder if perhaps Nessa had returned to the village proper, she saw a flash of red hair In the distance amidst a copse of trees next to the river and headed towards it with an internal sigh of relief. Yet when she came closer, her feet slowed. She had found Nessa, but the red hair she'd spotted from the distance belonged to another: a female shem wearing Chantry robes, no less. Before she could turn away, however, Nessa's face lit up and waved at her, then beckoned her closer.
For a moment, she hesitated, and a memory rose in her head: the people of the Alienage fleeing before Vaughan, afraid to defend one of their own before the swords and tyranny of the shem lord. Surely Nessa wouldn't—
Shaking her head and firming her jaw, Kalindra stepped forward. No. Not Nessa. That I won't believe. Perhaps it had been just as well that Nessa had left the Alienage when she had, given that she had a temperament to match that of Shianni. Dismissing the thought as the reproachful face of Nessa's father rose in her mind, Kalindra came to a halt near the two women, looking the stranger over carefully.
Her unease grew as she noticed several disquieting details about the red-haired newcomer: the callouses on her hands, the light lines of scars on her face and neck, and the frank manner in which the shem appraised Kalindra in return. This is no mere Chantry sister. Before she could decide whether to run or stay, however, Nessa spoke.
"This is the friend I was telling you about. Shianni."
Relief flooded through Kalindra at those simple words, coupled with a wave of contrition at having doubted her friend. Pushing it aside, she turned and smiled at the woman, nodding her head in greeting. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Sister."
"I am pleased to meet you, Shianni," the woman said in cultured tones. The Orlesian accent startled Kalindra - she'd heard it only rarely in Denerim, mainly from Slim's 'special' agent in Anora's household. It seemed genuine, but she was certainly no certain judge. "My name is Leliana."
"Sister Leliana came to the camp to tell me about a caravan leaving Lothering soon to go to Denerim. She heard the Sister in the Chantry refuse me aid, and wanted to make amends." Nessa was beaming, a hint of moisture in her eyes. "They even have a cart Mother can ride in. I don't think she could make the journey on foot. I just need some money—"
The red-haired woman waved Nessa's concern away with a gesture, reaching for her coin pouch. "I told you, I will arrange it. The Chantry loves all her children, and Sister Nora was wrong to deny your simple request." She held out some coins to Nessa. "Please. This should be enough for you and your Mother, and Shianni as well."
"Me?" Kalindra asked before she could stifle it, and bit her lip. Of course the Sister would assume I would be accompanying them. "Ah, I mean, that won't be necessary, Sister. I will be able to pay the way." She grasped the smaller pouch, tied shut with Nessa's necklace, and gave it to her friend with a firm nod.
Her friend looked curiously at the necklace, then gasped and closed her hands tightly around it. "You—" She stopped herself, glancing at Leliana, then smiled at Kalindra, tears leaking down her cheeks. "I need to fetch Mother. The sister says the caravan is leaving soon, and I don't want to miss this chance, not after… Oh, thank you!" Abruptly Kalindra found herself in a tight embrace. "Thank you," Nessa whispered again. "For everything. I will see you in Denerim." She pressed her lips against Kalindra's temple and cheek, then stepped back. "And thank you, Sister!"
"Of course, child. Now go prepare your mother for the journey."
With a quick nod, Nessa scooted past Kalindra and disappeared from sight quickly.
Leliana smiled after her, then looked at Kalindra. "She seems like a good friend. Something which you sorely need at the moment, Grey Warden."
A cold chill ran through Kalindra, and she looked at the woman sharply. "I don't know—"
"Please, Warden. You are very distinctive in appearance, as you must know. I didn't realize that the mysterious Shianni would prove to be the very one I sought, but I am glad. Besides," she added, spreading her hands wide, "I mean you no harm. In fact, I wish to help you."
Warily, Kalindra took a step back, glancing for the quickest way to leave and praying fervently this wasn't an ambush. "And why should I believe you?"
"Because I had a dream! A vision!" Her voice rang with sincerity. "The Maker told me to help you, to go with you, that I may help you abate the darkness that spreads across the land!"
Kalindra blinked. A vision? "That's a very… bold claim," she offered.
The woman laughed, a crystal clear sound in the quiet of the copse. "I know it sounds insane, but it's true. I know you cannot go into Lothering because of the bounty on your head. Let me help you! I can be your agent there, to assist you as you require. Helping Nessa was going to be my last act before leaving Lothering, so the very fact that the Maker saw fit to put me in your path means my vision must be true!"
Fighting the urge to bite her lip in amusement at the woman's dogged insistence, Kalindra forced a thoughtful look on her face as she considered the matter. The woman… well, her claim may have been preposterous, but her generosity to Nessa was not pretend, and it was true that Kalindra desperately needed exactly what the woman offered. The senses honed over the years of working with the criminal element of Denerim also did not raise any alarms about her behavior - other than her belief in the Maker, that is, but she was hardly alone in that regard. "It is true we could use your help." Now she did bite her lip, but it was in genuine calculation rather than amusement as she considered her own - well, her and her friends' - predicament. She sighed. We simply have no other viable option. She just couldn't afford to pass up this chance if it were genuine.
And if it proved false, well… she would cross that bridge when she came to it.
.~^~.
As Leliana trundled away with their armor and weapons in a cart, Alistair shot her a dubious look from where he stood at her side. "Are you sure about this? I thought we were all full up for crazy."
"I thought all you shems believed in the Maker," she replied, the corner of her lips tugging upwards.
"Well… belief in the Maker is one thing. I don't wait around waiting for his mellifluous voice to fill my dreams and command unto me what to do next." He grinned as Kalindra giggled. "I mean, it might be a bit awkward when the stouties and the uglies catch up with us if we're just sitting in the middle of nowhere, twiddling our thumbs while hoping for divine orders from the Big Guy in the Fade."
She laughed, grateful for the distraction of his silliness. "We could just tell them it was all a misunderstanding. I'm sure they'd be willing to go back to the Deep Roads and wait patiently until we get our marching orders. They've been so considerate of our schedule so far, after all."
"Oh, right, how could I forget? Those arrows only hit the places where it was really painful, but not where they could actually kill us. Yay for us." He winked at her with a broad smile. "And that ogre? He was just trying to say hello, but forgot how to do a proper handshake. 'Shake only one hand, not the whole body'—that's all we needed to tell him. Simple, really."
By this point they were both laughing, but Kalindra was laughing so hard she had to gasp for breath. It felt good to laugh, to be alive. The sun fell in a warm glow on her skin, the wind played with the errant trails of her hair, and the dimming pain of her earlier wounds remained a distant reminder that though she might get stung, she needn't give up. She looked up at her fellow Grey Warden, considering him for a moment, then reached over and put her hand on his arm, squeezing gently. "I'm alive," she told him.
The mirth in his eyes faded as he became more serious. Carefully he put his hand on hers and pressed lightly around it. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I truly mean it. I don't know if I could lose you, too, not after…" His voice trailed away, his eyes locked with hers,
"I know," she replied. Duncan - more specifically, his loss - still loomed large for both of them. Someday she would ask him how Duncan had come to mean so much to him, and perhaps she would tell him the same. For now, no further words were required to share their sorrow at his death, and each took a small amount of solace in the knowledge they at least had a fellow Warden in the other. They stood like that for a quiet moment, the wind and the sun encapsulating them in a pocket of unlikely normalcy. Finally, and for the first time, she truly saw Alistair; though the dark brown hair and hazel eyes remained unchanged, she now also saw the worry lines on his forehead, the laugh lines next to his eyes and around his mouth, and the glint of his teeth as his lips settled into a little half-smile. She offered a tremulous smile as she said, "I miss him, too."
Unspoken was the truth she had trouble admitting, even to herself:she missed Duncan far more than she missed her own father.
She looked away from Alistair, the unwanted thought intruding into the odd peace that had settled over them. Tugging her hand away, she cleared her throat and pointed to the windmill. "Come on, let's go. That's where Leliana said she'd meet us, at the base of the windmill."
"Let us move, then," Morrigan interjected. "For a moment, I thought you were going to kiss the fool. We certainly have more important matters to attend to than that."
Kalindra froze. Sharing a sense of loss was one thing, but intimacy… She stepped away from Alistair as a shudder swept through her body, and she used the momentum to turn and head toward the slowly turning blades of the windmill. "Don't be absurd, shem."
She didn't hear Morrigan's soft chuckle or Alistair's equally quiet sigh, though. Her thoughts were once again ruled by cold green eyes and a cruel smile. Her hands wrapped around her arms tightly, unaware of the blood that started to trickle down her arm as her desperate grip wrenched the bandage free.
.~^~.
Making their way around Lothering undetected proved to be both more and less difficult than Kalindra had anticipated. The added difficulty came from Morrigan, as there was no way to disguise her striking beauty and the staff which never left her side. It was offset by Alistair's sudden normalcy: with his armor gone and gambeson tucked under his arm, he appeared to be just another refugee. She'd sent Alistair ahead to diminish the chance of the Wardens being seen together, and had cautiously moved with Morrigan through the outer edges of the town, helping the mage over a low fence here and there. Fen'len joined in eagerly, even going so far as to distract the attention of a couple of curious children, leading them away with barks and a wagging tail.
Eventually they reached the windmill - or at least the bottom of the hill upon which it stood. When she looked around for Alistair, she found him standing on a low rise, looking into the distance with a frown on his face. She went to his side and followed his gaze. And blinked. "Is that… someone in a cage?"
"It appears to be," Alistair said with a shrug. "I've never seen a cage like that ever actually in use. It's generally only used for the worst kind of criminals."
"Like murderers?" The comment slipped out before she could stop it.
"Yes, of course. What could be worse than that?"
Kalindra's hands balled into fists before she could stop them, and her jaw tightened so quickly it brought on a mild headache. She could still feel the blood of the bandits on her hands, despite the multiple scrubbings she'd given them after Morrigan had patched her up: warm and thick and mixed in with all the other blood she'd spilled. Her dreams had made it impossible to forget that blood, reminding her of her victims night after night in a parade of bloody, dead faces. As much as Vaughan figured into every nightmare that drove her from sleep, she had also begun to dream of the others, of the guards who were just doing their duty to a bad master, and of the one whose blood had never touched her blade but whose death still fell the most heavily on her shoulders. Nelaros...
She started forward, ignoring Alistair's protest, and approached the cage. As she got closer, words came to her ears, words of a language she'd never heard - not even in Denerim's market, which had its fair share of travelers from far and distant lands.
Like Mother…
Shoving the thought aside firmly, she came to a halt in front the cage and looked up at the… well, giant of a man. He didn't appear to be just a tall man, however: no shem she had ever met had grey skin, topped her by over two heads, and had subtle but visible points at the end of his ears. She shook her head, waiting for a break in his words before asking, "Why are you in this cage?"
His eyes opened, revealing a startling lavender surrounded by a ring of red. "You are not one of my captors. I will not amuse you any more than I have them. Leave me in peace."
"What are the shems doing to you?" She saw the circles under his eyes and the sagging skin that spoke of dehydration and hardship, but his clothes were unmarked and she saw no signs of torture.
"Does it matter? I'm a prisoner, in a cage. I've been placed here by the Chantry." His tone was odd, almost as if she were imposing on him by taking an interest in his condition.
"Even prisoners have names and stories." Still, to be placed here by the Chantry… "I would like to know yours."
The eyes narrowed slightly, though she couldn't read any other expression on his impassive face. After a lingering silence, he straightened and nodded his head. "I am Sten of the Beresaad—the vanguard—of the qunari peoples."
"I am Kalindra Tabris. I… don't really have a people." Two Grey Wardens against Thedas… it seemed hardly worth a mention, really. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."
He shifted on his feet, head tilting slightly. "You mock me. Or you show manners I have not come to expect in your lands." A slight shrug was his only acknowledgment otherwise. "It matters not. I suggest you depart and leave me to my fate."
Not the words of an innocent man. Of course, she herself would hardly be innocent, no matter what court decided her fate. The Wardens were her protection, and had not cleansed her of her guilt. "What fate? Why do you deserve to be left to it?"
"I have been convicted of murder." The statement was matter-of-fact, emotionless. "Have the villagers not spoken of this?"
A wry grin came to her face. "I… have not spoken to them. I preferred to avoid them, in fact."
"Then you show surprising intelligence."
"Thank you."
"It was not a compliment."
She tilted her head, considering him again, and the grin faded. "Who did you murder?"
"The people of a farmhold. Eight humans, in addition to the children." Again, that matter-of-fact delivery, though the words this time chilled Kalindra to the bone.
"Children?" She wrapped her arms around herself and took an instinctive step backwards, only peripherally aware that Alistair had approached the cage as well. "That's… that's horrible!"
"I agree."
"Are you all right, Kalindra?" Alistair asked. "He didn't threaten you or anything?"
"How could I pose a threat? I am a prisoner, as I should be." Now the tone held a tinge of exasperation. "Leave me to my fate. It has nearly claimed me. Soon I will expiate my sins and my struggle will cease."
"That—that doesn't even make sense," Alistair protested, but Kalindra had already turned back to the qunari, absently rubbing at the distant pain in her arm.
Expiate his sins… through his death. Yes, that sentiment she understood all too well. "I think we share something in common," she said quietly.
His eyes, which had sagged shut, opened and looked at her, their gaze locking. "I find that difficult to believe. I am qunari, and you are basra, and the two can never be the same." Still, he did not look away.
"You seek atonement, do you not?" She moved to the door of the cage, reaching into her pouch for her lockpicks as she began to examine the lock. "What would be a more fitting atonement: to give up your life for those already dead, or to fight for a better world for those left behind?"
"My death here would accomplish both, would it not?"
So very much in common. "I seek to stop the Blight, Sten of the Beresaad. I offer you a chance to do more than perish in a lonely cage, a death as useless as it is certain. I offer you a chance to ensure that no child need die at the hand of monsters." I give you the same choice I was given - too late to avoid guilt, but soon enough to hope for a better path.
"I encountered elements of the Blight before I committed my crimes. Are you saying it is your duty to fight it?" His eyes narrowed as he looked at Kalindra and Alistair, neither wearing armor or weapons, and snorted softly. "Are you a Grey Warden, then?"
"I am a Grey Warden, as is Alistair," Kalindra stated.
A true expression now claimed his face: incredulity. "Surprising. My people have heard legends of the Grey Wardens' strength and skill…" He again scrutinized the two in front of him. "…though I suppose not every legend is true."
"Hey!" Alistair protested. "I'm much more impressive when I've got all my Grey Warden equipment, I'll have you know."
"A true warrior does not need steel to make an impression, human," Sten retorted.
Ignoring the exchange, Kalindra turned her attention to the lock, feeling it out carefully. It was more complicated than the ones she'd encountered in the Arl's estate, but not the worst she'd come across. When the sought-after click vibrated in the steel, she grasped the door and swung it open. "I offer you a place to fight at our side. What could be a better atonement than to fight against such darkness?"
The question hung between them for a moment, and finally Sten nodded. "So it is done. I will follow you into battle. In doing so I shall find my atonement." He looked her up and down one more time, then left the cage. "I hope."
She swung the door closed behind him before turning to head back to Morrigan. As she moved, Alistair caught up to her and muttered, "I can see why you'd want another fighter - and he certainly seems to be one - but are you sure about this? I mean, he is a murderer."
Her halt was so sudden he almost tripped trying to stay at her side. She glared at him for a moment, knowing he was completely right and her angry reaction was born entirely from her own sense of guilt, but feeling the irrational sting of betrayal nonetheless. "Aren't we all?" she grated, then turned and went back to Sten, who was walking a bit slower than she'd anticipated.
A small smile came to her face when she saw that Fen'len had managed to evade the children he'd diverted and was now introducing himself to Sten with some firm barks and a wagging tail. The qunari would need some time to recuperate - no matter how stoic he was, his physical condition had deteriorated in his captivity. Yet another person to worry about.
"Hallo!" a voice called out, and she glanced, startled, to where Leliana was waving at her, one hand still on a small cart that seemed to hold much more now than it had when she had gone back to Lothering. As the woman came closer, she pointed into the cart. "I bought us more supplies, too! Sleeping in the wilderness without tents is just so barbaric, no?"
Leliana. Kalindra smiled and waved back, a bit surprised at how happy she felt to see that shock of red hair and smile. She'd half expected never to see their belongings again, and certainly hadn't expected Leliana to know what they would need beyond the basics of food and water. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad…
Two more companions she knew practically nothing about, and they hadn't even left Lothering yet. Wonderful. Hopefully we won't pick up any more strays.