“If you trust this darkspawn,” Maric suddenly said.
Bregan regarded Maric with a cool stare. The others looked at him oddly, as well, and Duncan knew why. Of them all, Maric was the only one who was not a Grey Warden. Was he even part of this plan? Duncan wanted to ask what they intended to do with the King, but then he remembered what Genevieve had told him the first night they’d camped in the Deep Roads: If the King ever learned anything he wasn’t supposed to, he would need to die.
Perhaps it was better not to ask just yet.
“Yes,” Bregan grudgingly admitted. “If we trust this darkspawn.”
“And you do?” Kell asked.
“I trust his plan, yes.”
“And I trust Bregan,” Genevieve added, looking up at her brother with genuine affection. It was odd to see the expression on the face of someone so completely blighted, with those red eyes and withered skin.
“And how do we know you are not under some kind of mental control?” Fiona asked suspiciously. “Blood magic is known to control minds. You could be influenced by magic and not even be aware of it.”
“If that were so,” the Architect said, “then why attempt to convince you of anything at all?”
“Then tell me this,” she responded. “If your ‘brethren’ are actually freed, does that make them better? Will they stop attacking the surface? Or the dwarves? Will they stop spreading disease?”
It appeared unfazed by the questions. “I am free,” it stated simply. “This gives me the choice to act differently than others of my kind. Would you deny the rest of the darkspawn that choice?”
Fiona appeared taken aback by his response. Bregan leaned in. “It is one step,” he said. “Only one step of several. Before those other steps can be taken, however, first we must stop the Blights.”
“And what are those other steps?” Maric pointedly asked.
Bregan ignored him. He nodded to Genevieve and she stood. “We will not tell you everything. I know how this might seem, but we have little choice. I am willing to trust my brother and I will do anything if it means fulfilling my vow. You may not feel the same.” She looked down at the ground and became awkwardly silent for a moment, considering her next words. “I appreciate that you came all this way with me. I truly believed you would turn about when I left you, but now that you are here, I need to ask if you will follow me a little farther.”
A silence followed her words. Fiona eventually arched a brow at her former commander. “And if we don’t?”
“Then here you remain,” Bregan answered. “Until our task is done.”
“And what about Maric?” Duncan blurted out. He regretted it as soon as he asked the question. The others looked at him curiously, especially Maric. Only Genevieve didn’t look at him. In fact, she studiously avoided his gaze.
“He will be returned to the surface,” the Architect said carefully. “In time.”
“That’s too kind,” Maric remarked.
“Returned how?” Duncan insisted. “Alive?”
The darkspawn gave a hint of what might have been a smile. “To allies.”
It didn’t elaborate, and Duncan desisted. He obviously wasn’t going to get an answer on this, either, though he had to wonder what sort of “allies” the creature could be referring to. Allies of Bregan’s, most likely. He noticed Genevieve shooting a curious look at her brother at the mention, but only for a second. Perhaps they didn’t tell her everything, either? Curious.
Genevieve turned to go. “I will give you time to decide,” she said. “In the end, if Bregan and I must do this on our own, then that is what must be.” Bregan nodded to her, but as the three of them started to walk to the door, Utha suddenly slammed her manacles down hard on the floor. The ringing sound they made drew everyone’s attention. The dwarf sat there, watching Genevieve and Bregan fervently. Duncan wasn’t sure if she was furious or … something else.
She made several gestures with her hand. They were quick and punctuated. Certain. Her expression did not change. Kell, however, reacted with shock. “No, Utha!”
Genevieve knelt down in front of the dwarf, concern upon her face. “We can give you more time if—”
Utha made a simple, negating slice of her hand.
Kell shook his head at her, stricken. “No, you should wait. We could …”
She turned and gazed at him sadly. Duncan watched as she made a series of complicated gestures to the hunter, most of which he didn’t understand. It was an explanation, however, something involving several chopping movements with her hand and a determined expression.
Kell, in turn, became more and more hopeless. And then finally he nodded, resigned. “If you truly think you must.”
She made a nodding gesture with her hand. She did.
Genevieve watched Utha, torn, but then her face hardened. She looked up at the Architect behind her, and gave him a curt nod. He lowered himself with the aid of his staff to kneel beside Genevieve, his robes rustling as he did so, and held out a slender, withered hand to the dwarf.
Utha took it, her eyes fixed on the emissary and her jaw set. Duncan expected for there to be some kind of incantation spoken, some ritual. But there was only silence. The Architect stared into Utha’s eyes and nothing happened at first. Then black veins began to appear along her hand where the darkspawn touched her. They became darker and darker, the veins branching until her entire hand was criss-crossed with them.
The dwarf closed her eyes, shaking ever so slightly. Duncan watched as the black veins appeared on her neck. Then they spread to her face. Her shaking became more pronounced, and she clenched her teeth hard to keep her composure. Hafter woke up, sensing something, and when he noticed the emissary standing nearby and felt the strange magics at work, he began to growl menacingly. Kell put his hand on the hound’s neck to quiet him. The hunter looked away and shut his eyes tight. He couldn’t bear to watch.
A shadow formed around the Architect’s hand, a black and amorphous mass that seemed to grow out of him. It got larger, and as it did the small chamber grew chill. Duncan shivered, and saw frost forming on the wall next to Utha. Her breath was coming out in white plumes, as it was for the rest of them. The shadow crawled off of the darkspawn’s hand and onto the dwarf’s, and there it slowly sank into her. Her flesh withered and curled, the air filling with the foul stench of decay.
Utha began to spasm. Still she fought against the agony that was burning through her. The stain on her skin spread, crawling up her neck and covering her face. Her coppery hair began to grey, and then it became white. Her long braid twisted and curled behind her, like a match that was burning itself into a cinder. Her eyes shot open, bloodred, and she opened her mouth in a soundless scream … and what wisps remained of her hair simply fell out.
And then it was done.
Utha pulled her hand from the Architect’s and doubled over, her body racked with shudders that grew less and less. The plumes of breath grew fainter until finally they disappeared and she was still. Duncan thought for a moment that she had died, but as she slowly sat up he realized that she was now simply cold.
The darkspawn nodded at her and lowered his hand. The chill in the air lessened almost immediately, although it did not disappear.
Everyone but Kell stared at Utha. The hunter averted his eyes and calmed Hafter as the hound whined in confusion. Fiona shook her head in disbelief, furious, but Duncan didn’t know what to think. The dwarf was now as bald and tainted as Genevieve and Bregan, her eyes that same bloody red, but she seemed calm. She nodded curtly to the Architect and he ran a finger along her manacles. They opened with a loud clicking sound and dropped off her.
Nice trick. Duncan needed to learn that sometime.
The dwarf stood and walked forward to stand before Genevieve, not even looking back at the others. “Thank you,” Genevieve said with the officious tone reserved for a good soldier. Utha nodded again but did nothing else.