A/N: Heh. Um. Not a very fun chapter, but I hope you guys keep looking out for the final two chapters! At least, I hope there that there are only two chapters left.
Chapter 18:
Encrypt
Sten
The kadan and I spent the next few days together, sparring and walking along the eastern shoreline, following our return from the underground—time away from the suddenly stifling qunari compounds. It began as an exchange of information; she revealed secrets about the Grey Wardens while in return I spoke of the fauna of which she was so eager to learn.
Although she had seemed so willing to listen at first, the more she learned about the Qun—the more pensive she grew, and often, I caught her staring out at the sea. Needless to say, she did not discuss her troubles with me.
She attempted to divert her attentions to teaching me the Grey Warden ciphers—encryptions that would prevent others from reading the information that pertained not only to darkspawn. These were utterly incomprehensible; although her delight in watching me struggle with the runic alphabet was somewhat alleviating.
The kadan seemed to expect us to remain in correspondence—she was evidently determined to leave me behind in Seheron. I of course, said nothing about my yearning to follow her wherever she went.
"This is…" I watched the stick she used, the script she drew in the sand was deliberately intricate, mysterious and obscure.
"This is the universal sign for 'warning' amongst the Wardens; the most basic that will enable you to encode your messages and missives throughout Thedas."
"Like the ones you composed?" She had already sent off letters of her own—since our return—with the first ships off the island. There were a great many; to Weisshaupt, Antiva, Nevarra, Orlais, even Ferelden. What puzzled me was that none of the letters she wrote were exactly the same.
"Mmm… it's something similar. Thing is—every cipher you write has to be signed. A name is not sufficient, Sten." I stared at her, and she continued, with a small smile. Complicated affairs, it seems, followed those who were not of the Qun.
"A signature will have to accompany your letter, something that would alert the receiver that your exact combination of letters, enscribed within your first and last symbols— to the key that will allow one to decrypt your message."
I sighed inwardly. "I… see." It was proving hard to concentrate on something quite so foreign—the secrecy of the Wardens was proving itself to be most tiring. She smoothed the grains over, and it was as if no words had ever been written—and I was struck by how… poignant the image was. The kadan would leave, and all that would be left of her were memories, and that too would fade. I did not wish for that.
"Tell me, kadan."
"What?" She turned her face to the sea, the winds catching loose tendrils of her hair, sweeping them across her face. It was that voice again—that petulant tone of a child. Sometimes, I forgot how young she really was.
"You should not keep things from a fellow Grey Warden." It was strange, to say that—it was yet another title that aligned us on the same front. It was also oddly… comforting. She huffed and got up—walking away. I was not going to let her wallow on her own. Not when we had so little time left.
Kiera
Sten was being rather… insufferable. Okay, insufferable was altogether the wrong word for his actions, but sometimes I wished to be left alone. Everything I did reminded me of the fate that I had led the karashoks into; my actions had doomed them, and all I could think of was how they would never feel the wind on their face, hear the swash of the sea, smell the fish and incense and tea that carried on the currents.
I wanted away.
Even with the sand between my toes, I felt an emptiness that was unsettling, to say the least. I wanted—no, needed—the violence of battle.
He grabbed my arm, and I retaliated, blocking his attempts to grab my other, bringing up my foot to break that hold. I'd succeeded in twisting my arm free, and I leapt clear. I wasn't in the mood for talking. Apparently, neither was he.
He managed to grab me before my feet hit the sand, and he pinned me to the ground in one swift move.
Kossiths were really tall.
Sten
The kadan feigned laughter, even while so trapped beneath me. When that failed to lull me into a false sense of security, she squirmed, but I held on —this had to end—her melancholy had to stop. The light in her eyes grew positively icy as she regarded me.
"Let go of me—Sten."
"No."
Her small human figure was caught fast, and I felt her give up, her body relaxed—securely in my arms.
"I will not let you suffer alone, kadan."
It didn't occur to me what an image we presented; the embrace was all too familiar—our proximity was too foreign, scandalous even, to the Ben-Hassrath, who had been ordered to fetch us. Our absence from the Qun's watchful gaze was now alarming to the tammassrans.
xOxOx
We were being summoned to the Viddathlok, a temple in which the Ben-Hassrath would attempt to re-educate—me, namely, but the kadan, she was not a part of the Qun, nor was she claimed a captive. It was indeed strange that no warning was given—although yet again, we required none. For what behavior? There was nothing to suggest anything even remotely justifying such a thing. Nothing improper had happened between us—and for that I was grateful, that she had been too distracted, even to tease.
Kiera
"So… what did I do this time?" I whispered, inching closer to Sten.
"It is not you who is in trouble—kadan." Somehow, those words did not make me feel any better. Neither did that smile curling on Sten's lips. He rarely smiled, but that one looked oh so sardonic. It was probably worse than I thought.
"Was it because of that suggestive position they found us in?" I had nothing to do with that—but you never know with those in on the witch-hunt (ouch—such irony in that word), everything could be misconstrued as something worse.
"Perhaps." He was now falling back on that favorite word of his.
The day was about to take a turn for the worse.
P.S.: I'm sorry about the cliff-hangers. Serialization (and I use that term loosely) seems to be a forte of mine.