The rocking of the little boat made Kya feel sick. She couldn't recall ever riding in the boat to the tower and feeling like she was going somewhere she actually wanted to be. No matter which direction the boat was heading.
She had expected that Wynne would have insisted on coming with her. But the old mage hadn't said a word, and once she saw Loghain climb in the boat beside Kya, she turned away. They sat without speaking as the shore faded, the gentle swish of Hester's paddles through the water the only sound besides the wind and waves.
Kya lifted her chin and refused to shiver. It was her idea, after all, that they leave their armor behind and try to appear as unthreatening as possible. Greagoir wasn't ever happy to see her, and she couldn't imagine he was going be happy to see Loghain either. They all blamed Loghain as much as they blamed Uldred for what happened at the tower.
Kya was fairly certain it was a very bad idea to bring him with her.
She did have an ulterior motive for that. And not out of some twisted sense of justice either. She wasn't stupid; she knew Loghain had seen enough death in his life that the execution of one mage wasn't likely to move him. What she did know was that his presence would be enough to stop her from having a pathetic emotional outburst once the deed was done.
Or at least she hoped so.
She glanced at Loghain out of the corner of her eye. He was staring out across the water, frowning as it seemed he always did. She could imagine what he was thinking, and much of it was probably irritation at the detour for personal matters, especially when there was a war to be fought. But to the Black City with him, if he was going to judge her now.
A gust of wind whipped across the boat, making it rock precariously. Kya grabbed for the rail of the boat with one hand, and the seat behind her with the other. Loghain apparently had the same reflex, because his hand quickly came down on the seat, half over the top of her hand, gripping it tightly before he realized she was there first. She expected he'd have let go immediately if another wave hadn't come and rocked the boat in the other direction, sending her sliding over against him. She had a temporary wash of relief at the fact that neither of them was armored, since that might have tipped them out of the rickety excuse for a boat completely. Kya knew her skin had gone a completely horrifying shade of green.
Hester gave a little laugh and looked entertained. The man was lucky she didn't bring her sword.
As the waves finally returned to their normal sickening seesaw, Loghain slipped his arm out from between them. Kya half expected him to push her away, since there was nowhere further he could move. And frankly, that was the only way he was going to get her to move, because the thought of sliding back towards the edge of the boat made her stomach flip.
Instead, his arm slid up around her shoulders awkwardly, as if he was completely unfamiliar with such a friendly gesture. Kya turned her head slowly – fast would have cause breakfast to reappear – and looked at him. He was a bit paler than usual, but instead of irritation, he actually looked concerned. Well, maybe a little anyway.
"Are you alright?" he asked. It sounded like he was trying to be comforting, but it came out as a mix of annoyance and anxiety. Kya nodded mutely, and he patted her shoulder like she was a wayward Mabari.
She still didn't think she could move. Not only did she have no interest in getting closer to the water, but Maker, he was warm. And she felt like her blood had all gone to ice. Before it had a chance to get any more awkward than it already was, the boat scraped up against the pile of stones that served as a dock at the base of the tower.
Kya's stomach cartwheeled, and it had nothing to do with the movement of the boat. But she was damned if anyone was going to see it. Instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat – it was probably some disgusting mix of her heart and her breakfast – and she tilted her chin up defiantly. Loghain stood up out of the boat as if he'd been here dozens of times and offered her his hand.
She looked at it and wondered if he'd take it as a sign of weakness if she accepted. But then again, crashing into the lake and having to be fished out was a touch more mortifying, so she accepted and let him help her up. She was glad for the touch of his hand, warm against the frozen landscape of her fingers.
Kya squared her shoulders and took a long, deep breath to calm herself. It was pointless, but it was the sort of thing someone was supposed to do. Of course, any sane person wouldn't be here at all, under the circumstances.
She did not want to do this.
She did not want to see Jowan die.
But despite that, she stalked forward with mock purpose towards the heavy, distasteful doors to the tower.
"We are keeping him in the cellar. Near the phylactery chamber," Greagoir barked. "If I recall, you know the way."
Kya gave him a blistering look. "Then I assume I don't need an escort?" she asked, trying and failing to keep the anger out of her voice.
"No," he replied sharply. "We have added more runes to prevent the use of magic there. Neither Jowan or you are any threat." He looked smug. "But," he added, "He is being guarded by my Templars, so don't expect a private reunion."
Kya tried her best not to growl. "Yes, I'm sure," she said tersely. "I expected nothing."
She gave Loghain a look over her shoulder, and stamped away from Greagoir towards the stairs leading to the cellar. The main door was open for her; there was no need for a rod of fire this time. A pair of Templars stood on either side of the door, both in helmets, looking for all the world like a pair of metal golems. Which they were, essentially. But they did not stop her or even bother with a look in her direction as she opened the door. She heard Loghain's footsteps behind her.
"I have a feeling," Loghain said quietly, though his voice echoed in the long stone hallway nonetheless. "That you have a history with the Knight-Commander."
Kya snorted. "Hardly," she replied. "At least not for my part. He has some convoluted idea that my following the First Enchanter's instructions was a form of malicious sedition. Although I expect it might make his tiny brain explode if he tried work out why."
Loghain gave her a questioning grunt.
Kya slowed until she was walking beside him. "I betrayed Jowan's plan to escape the tower with his lover to Irving," she explained. "And Irving sent me to help them find and destroy Jowan's phylactery anyway. He wanted to make sure Jowan's lover – a Chantry initiate – was punished as harshly as he was going to be."
"Hm," Loghain said. "That's cold; but just in my opinion. If one of his was to be punished, it is only fair that his accomplice in the deed also pay for her part in it."
"That was what I told myself," Kya said. "Although I'm not sure I believe it."
Before they could speak further, they turned a corner to find two more Templars. These were without their helmets, looking distinctly unhappy about being posted so close to a blood mage, magic neutralizing runes or not. And one also looked distinctly familiar.
Andraste's bloody flaming sword. Cullen.
As if things could get any worse.
He didn't seem to recognize her at first, but when he did, all the color drained from his face.
"Kya," Cullen spat. She thought he might have spit on her literally if he hadn't been too dignified to do so. She'd seen him angry before, when she refused to summarily murder the remaining mages with Uldred in the Harrowing chamber. But that paled next to the expression in his eyes now.
"Cullen," she replied, hoping to diffuse his ire. "It is good to see you."
"I doubt that, mage," he snapped.
Kya frowned at him. "Well," she said. "At least you got over the stutter."
Cullen's hands clenched into fists. "Yes, I have. The cold hard truth of what you mages really are will do that to a man." He turned his eyes to Loghain. "Watch her closely, if you dare to travel with her," he continued, clearly unaware of who Loghain was. "Don't let her pretty face fool you, she's a mage and they are the most dangerous things in all of Thedas."
Loghain looked unimpressed. "I am not worried, Templar," he replied. His voice was cold. "And I will make my own opinions, thank you."
"Make all the opinions you want, ser," Cullen said. "They'll do you little good when you are her thrall."
Loghain barked a laugh.
"Laugh if you will," Cullen growled. "I will, for one, not be fooled again. I'll see every mage in this tower dead before I let one get to me ever again."
"Cullen," the other Templar said. There was a warning in his tone. He was an older man and Kya couldn't for the life of her remember his name. "You know what Greagoir said. Any more threats and you'll be guarding the privies."
Cullen gave him a scathing look, but held his tongue.
"He's in there," the older Templar said, looking back at Kya. He looked more sympathetic than she expected, or wanted. At least Cullen was honest about what he was. Or at least what he had become now.
"Thank you," Kya said. Giving Cullen one last look – he refused to meet her eyes – she walked between them into the sullen darkness of the cell row. They were all empty, save the one at the end. There was hardly any light here, just the flickering of a torch in a bracket on the wall. Even the magical lamps they used wouldn't work here.
She could just make out the hunched silhouette of a man sitting on the slab of a cot against the wall. He was turned away from the bars, slumped down and as still as if he was already dead. Every part of Kya wanted to turn and scream out of the tower, but she steeled herself and took the last few hesitant steps to the bars. She laced she fingers against the cold iron. Her knuckles went white. She knew Loghain was right behind her, which was the only thing keeping her voice steady enough to speak.
"Jowan?" she said softly. The hunched figure flinched at the sound of her voice. Slowly, so agonizingly slowly, he turned around and stood on unsteady legs. He took a few steps out of the shadows, the half light of the torch finally touching his face.
This was a shadow of Jowan. He was thin, painfully thin. His lower face was covered in a thin, sickly looking beard and there were deep purple smudges under his eyes. He blinked at her like she might be a cruel trick of his mind.
"Kya?" he asked. His voice was rough from disuse.
She nodded, not sure she trusted herself to reply aloud. He stepped forward again and slowly raised his hands. Hesitantly, he wrapped his fingers around hers where they clung to the bars.
"It's time then?" he asked. She nodded again. His eyes met hers finally; pale grey ghosts of the eyes he used to wear. "Thank the Maker," he whispered. He swallowed. "I am glad you are here."
"I . . . I had to . . . I had to come," she stuttered. "I owe you this much, at least, for what I did."
Jowan shook his head. "No, it's not your fault. I see that now," he said. "I forgive you." He managed to worm his fingers under hers, pulling them through the bars. He pressed her hand against his face. His skin was as cold as hers was. He gave her a sad, resigned smile and kissed the palm of her hand.
"You are the closest thing I ever had to a sister," he said. "And I can go to the Maker knowing that you will be the last thing I ever see."
Kya choked back a sob. "Jowan," she said. "I am so sorry it had to come to this."
"Does it have to?" Loghain asked. She had almost forgotten he was there. She turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder. "Could you not do for him what you did for me?" he asked. "You are a Grey Warden, after all. Do you not have the Right of Conscription?"
"I do," Kya said, shaking her head and turning back to look at Jowan. "But I know he wouldn't survive the Joining."
Jowan smiled wanly. "Not any more than I would have survived my Harrowing, had they given me one," he said. "I know that now."
Kya stared at Jowan. She memorized his face, each curve and plane, the sad look in his eyes and even the errant locks of hair that spilled on his forehead. He was her friend, and her brother. He was the only apprentice that never looked at her like she was just an arrogant, over-confident bitch. Even if her arrogance was well earned, and well placed, only Jowan seemed to realize it.
No matter what it was going to kill inside of her, she was going to make damn sure he had his final wish. She would be the last thing he saw when he died. And Maker spit on anyone who tried to get in her way.
