There and Back Again Ch. 154

Jowan smirked again. The effect was ruined when some congealed rock dust flaked off his cheek, revealing a small patch of white skin. Aedan laughed.

"All right everyone, time for baths all around. And please remember, this is to be discussed with no one. As far as anyone knows, the Architect is in his 'protective chamber' upstairs -- which is sealed and never to be opened -- and Avernus passed away of natural causes in the night. We will tell everyone we had a private pyre up on the roof." Aedan's expression was suddenly serious. "Anyone who violates that rule...well, let's just say you won't like the consequences if I find out."

Murmuring agreement, we all went back to the dwarven door. Alistair opened it carefully, and we trooped through. Alistair and I picked up our assigned guards at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the main keep. I was happy to see mine was Avanna herself; she stared at my dusty hair and armour, but knew enough not to ask any questions, and her counterpart followed her lead. They silently followed upstairs.

Alistair headed towards our quarters, but on a whim, I paused, looking back at Solona behind me. "Come with me? Just for one second. I have something to show you."

I gave Alistair and Anders both slight headshakes, and confused, they both wandered off; I knew they were planning to pop up to the roof and start a fire, just so there'd be smoke to provide evidence of the fictional pyre. Solona, still caked in stone dust, eyed me curiously; I ignored the unspoken question, and led her back to my office, closing and locking the door behind us, leaving Avanna outside, and offering the mage a chair.

"Solona?" I asked, as I bent down behind my desk, pulling up the rug and reaching underneath. I waited for her answering hum, before continuing, "How much do you know about anatomy?"

I reached what I needed and hauled the small chest up, fishing through a ring of keys I kept tied to my waist all the time. I glanced up at the mage, who was looking at the little chest in confusion.

"What?"

"Anatomy. Body parts. Do you know much about what people's body parts look like, or what they do?" I waited for her answer before opening the now-unlocked chest.

She frowned. "Um, a bit? We are all educated in the Circle, and it would be hard to determine who showed talent as a healer if we weren't exposed to some basic information about bodies. But Anders is the expert, if you have a problem..."

"No, no. I just..." I sighed, and took a chance, opening the chest and lifting out the small glass jar within. "I was wondering if you knew what these were." I set the jar on the desk, and then sat down to wait, watching Solona's face intently.

The mage picked up the jar, grimacing a bit at the gore inside. There wasn't a lot of blood -- cautery, Zev had informed me, was the key to doing what he'd done without causing death -- but there was a little and it had tinged the fluid within grey instead of the pink it would be if the Architect had been human. She tilted the jar back and forth, examining the grisly contents, her brow furrowed.

"These used to be attached to someone, obviously. The Architect, specifically," I explained, providing a small clue.

I saw the moment when she realised exactly what she held; she went still, shoulders stiffening, eyes widening, and then she reached out and slowly, carefully, placed the jar back on my desk. "Are those..." She trailed off, seemingly unable to drag her eyes from the contents of the little jar. "Really?"

I nodded. "I felt like...well, it seemed only fair," I offered lamely, suddenly uncertain if I'd done the right thing by showing her. The mage was pale, her breathing quick and shallow, and one cheek kept twitching as she clenched her teeth and swallowed visibly. I wondered if she was going to throw up.

I didn't consider that what I'd done -- or asked Zevran to do -- was the wrong thing, just that perhaps she didn't need to be informed. Which should worry me -- and doesn't. I just hope I've not made anything worse for Solona.

Finally the mage met my eyes. "But really, why?"

I considered for a minute, trying to determine for myself what had driven me to even plan such a thing. And how to explain it, even if I knew.

I swallowed. "I don't know if he...if it's even possible for him to...I don't know." I slumped in my chair slightly. "I just felt like...he needed to be punished somehow. Some way that would be meaningful to most men. Just going to sleep forever seems too kind, but we couldn't kill him. So I thought...this way, he's not a man anymore. Won't ever be a father, if that was even possible. It takes something away from him, something most men prize, in return for what he took from you -- and me, if I'm honest."

I watched her face closely as I spoke, looking for some sign of her feelings on the matter; I was terrified that I'd made it worse for her in some way, that I'd somehow exacerbated the trauma or made her relive it. But other than the persistent cheek twitch, there was nothing. I waited anxiously to see what she would say, but she seemed frozen -- eyes locked on the jar and its horrifying contents, unable to look away.

Finally, when the silence had gone on long enough to become very awkward, I leaned across the desk and picked up the jar. "I'm sorry," I whispered, leaning back and opening the chest I'd stored it in. "Maybe it would have been better if I hadn't shown you."

I went to place the jar in the chest, when Solona finally moved, reaching out her hand expectantly. "May I?"

I hesitated only a moment before placing the jar in her hand. She stood abruptly, looked around almost wildly, then walked across the room, refusing to look again at what she held. I jumped when she smashed the jar by tossing it into the empty, dark hearth, glass shattering and fluid splashing wetly on the stone. Before I made it even halfway across the room, the mage had a torrent of bright red fire pouring out of her fingertips.

Solona wasn't a strong elemental mage, I knew; her talents lay in other areas like entropy and spirit. But evidently her rage was an excellent catalyst, because the stream of fire rivalled anything I'd seen from any of the other mages, and her voice, which had started out a low growl, rose in pitch until she was almost screaming, wordless sounds of hate and anger and fear spilling from her lips in a frenzy.

I didn't try to stop her, just stepped up beside her and waited until the fire petered out. I could feel her mana was completely depleted by the time the last few sparks fell, though she kept thrusting her hands out as though hoping for more. And then she was weeping, unintelligible words muffled by hopeless sobs, big fat tears pouring down her face to splash on the front of her robes. The contents of the jar -- and the shards of glass, the cork stopper, and even the preservative fluid -- had been vapourised, leaving nothing but a slight black stain on the stone and some scorching.

I put my arm around her shoulders cautiously, and just stood patiently as the tears finally stopped and she wiped her face irritably with her sleeves. She ignored the handkerchief I offered her, instead turning to me and flinging her arms around my neck. I hugged her back, gently, careful not to hold her too tightly or restrain her.

"Thanks," she whispered, and finally I smiled, though she couldn't see it.

"You're more than welcome. I wish there was more I could have done."

She pulled away, her cheeks reddening as she eyed the now-filthy hearth. "You've done enough. It's over."

I just nodded. Yes, yes it is. Finally.