Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Four: Inescapable
I spent a while unsuccessfully scouring my cell for anything that would help with an escape. Clearly the Architect had gotten better at holding prisoners since the events of the book "The Calling" -- unfortunately. I found a few pebbles, some moss, but nothing that could be used to pick locks, nothing that could even be a credible weapon.
I examined the crude padlock in more detail; it was a massive, black, iron contraption that I'd have no chance at breaking. It looked like it would probably be easy to pick -- not that I had any such skill -- but that would still require a pin or blade or
something
. I searched my pockets, examined my clothing, but I had nothing. My hair was tied back with a simple elastic. I wasn't even wearing my underwire bra; the stitching had started falling apart months before, and I'd switched to the traditional, if less comfortable, breast band.
I must start carrying more stuff in my armour.
"Nothing," I declared in disgust. "Who knew darkspawn made such good housekeepers?"
Faren barked out a tired laugh. "What are we going to do?"
I sighed. "Wait to be rescued, I suppose."
"Do you think she made it?" His voice sounded unsure, almost frightened. I couldn't blame him.
"Of course," I replied, with more certainty than I felt.
I hope
. I couldn't stand the thought that Avanna hadn't made it; it would take days for Alistair and Aedan to realise we were missing. They'd never find us. "And I'm already picturing an angry Aedan decapitating that asshole."
Faren laughed.
The night was boring, but also excruciating. I was exhausted, between the battle and the sleepless night, but knew I didn't dare fall asleep; there was no knowing what the Architect might do to me if I let his mana go -- and I had to assume if I fell asleep, I'd lose it, given how much concentration it took to hold on. For a while, Faren entertained me with stories of growing up in Dust Town. It was clear he missed his sister; I hoped eventually he'd be able to go back to Orzammar and be near her and the baby.
"I wonder if she misses Bhelen?" I mused.
"I imagine. He may have been a mark, and she a noble hunter, but she told me he was kind to her. I don't know that it was love, but it might have become that, eventually. It was good of Sereda to make her part of the Aeducan household, but she's still casteless. It's not likely she'll have suitors, or friends; I imagine she'll be lonely."
I winced. "Maybe...maybe you're wrong. Sereda was trying to fix things."
"It will take time, though. Nothing changes fast in Orzammar. My nephew will have a family, though, and status; that's all I could hope for."
I promised myself silently that if we lived through this, I'd make sure Faren got to at least go visit.
It was clear Faren was tired, and weak from blood loss. When he started nodding off mid-sentence, I scolded him into trying to sleep -- as well as he could while tied to a chair, at any rate.
It was a testament to his fatigue how soon his snored echoed around the chamber; I didn't mind, for once, hoping it would help me stay awake. I contemplated trying to exercise or something, but couldn't talk myself into it in my tired state. Instead, I alternately stood and knelt, going for positions I knew I'd never fall asleep in.
After a few hours, the torch sputtered out; not wanting to wake Faren, I sighed and continued my vigil in the dark.
I held my bladder for as long as I could; they'd not provided me with a bucket or chamber pot, and the discomfort was helping me stay awake. Finally unable to hold on any longer, I surreptitiously crouched in the back corner of my cell, nose wrinkled in disgust.
Utha bustled through the door an indeterminate amount of time later, waking Faren with a start. The ghoul carried a glowing stone of some sort, I assumed an arcane lamp something like those we used at Soldier's Peak. To my relief, she left it sitting on a small ledge jutting out of the far wall. She proceeded to fish through my backpack, which still sat on the floor opposite from my cage; she found the last of the jerky, feeding it to Faren and offering him water from the spare water skin I kept. She brought in two hurlocks to help guard him, then let him free to pee; she bound him to the chair again when he was done, and he was so exhausted he didn't even struggle.
She didn't bring me any food, even when Faren protested; I wasn't that disappointed, given how unwell I felt generally, and just sipped at the water skin the Architect had left with me the night before.
When Faren had finished eating, the ghoul administered a potion of some sort; by the dwarf's sputtering, I assumed it tasted awful. She didn't answer -- being mute, of course -- when he demanded to know what it was, but if anything he seemed slightly less weak, less pale than he'd been before. I wondered if it was like the potion Avernus had given me when he'd taken my blood.
It was another few hours before the Architect came back; he settled in to talk while Utha once again began taking Faren's blood.
"How do you know so much about me?" was his first question.
I considered.
Is it dangerous to tell him?
"I don't exactly know how," I began, "but where you sent me...there was books and things with information about Thedas. Everything about the Blight, but also some about your past."
He glanced sharply at me. "My past?"
I nodded. "I know about Genevieve. And Bregan. The deal you made with that Orlesian mage from the Circle..."
"But that's all?" He looked...relieved.
"I think so. At least, if there's more, I hadn't read them."
"But...who wrote them?"
