A/N: I am so very glad at seeing how many people have read this (or at least were interested enough to click on it!), and I hope this next chapter lives up to whatever expectations I set up.

WhisperedDarkness – Evil is fun ^_^

lioness84 – Yes, she is the main character, in a sense. I wanted to twist the story around a bit, after playing it several times over. I also love the idea of an assassin that is personable, and comes at you with the smile you never saw coming.

I meant to post this last night, but Word decided to hate me and lose all my edits for the day. Not sure what happened, maybe I insulted it's cousin or something.

Thanks to the UESP forums for their lore discussions, especially on the nature of Sithis. And thanks to the Imperial-Library for compiling data, especially the song that the MC sings, that I believe is from Redguard.

So, here you go. Next chapter! Read, enjoy, review. (No, seriously. It helps me know what I'm doing right, and what went wrong.)


Chapter 2

It was once said that dying is easy, but that living is hard.

That has certainly been my experience – death comes easily enough as to be commonplace. Sickness, accidents, wars, age, wrath; everyday life leads inevitably to death. For without death, change, we stagnate within order.

It is an easy thing to bring about death. A knife's prick, a loosed arrow, a pinch of powder or the casting of ta spell. It is simple to kill. But living, now that's hard. It requires suffering and striving for the length of one's life. Perseverance in the everlasting hope that we shall achieve something beyond our present state.

And thus we hope for change. We crave it, the chance to go beyond.

Yet there are those who loathe deathbringers as foul. That when we end another's suffering and send their souls back into the Void, we do a wrong. They have compunctions against cold-blooded murder, but to butcher an animal is normal, and to kill on the battlefield is honorable.

My duty is as worthy as theirs. I am the dark side of the coin. A tool of chaos, cutting the rot away to enact necessary change, to cull the herd. But death is a necessity, the companion to life, the shadow to light.

Knowledge is the weapon of change; I am the instrument of chaos.

Masser and Secunda shone down, illuminating the Heartland into a patchwork of shadows and moonlight. The clop of horse step on the grass echoed into the boughs of the trees, but the rider gave it no mind. She could outmaneuver most beasts, and she was alert enough to avoid danger as a rule.

She rode at ease, relishing the cool night after a warm day, the fresh scent of evergreen and aspen after the smoke of the inn. She kept to the fringes of the woodland, along the winding ridge, enough to glimpse the road and her direction. Out beyond the vast distant lake, she could see the top of the White Gold Tower, glinting in the moonlight.

She leaned back to admire the sky, reaching out a leather-encased arm to trace the constellations. This was peace; a job completed, the satisfaction of a kill mingling with the solitude of a silent night.

She smiled, and sang under her breath,

"Strong Warrior charges
Steed prancing
Lady dancing"

On the heels of her chant, she calculated the day. Harvest's End had been four days ago. Or was it five?

She'd gotten the contract late in the night, after In the mood to celebrate what she had as a child, she'd taken full advantage to mingle with the good citizens of 'd left the Newland's Lodge. Rowdy under normal circumstances, given cause to drink, it the lodge had grown too much and she'd left as a courier had dashed in. She hadn't caught what gossip was shared, knowing only that it had brought a hush to the tavernthe Orcs and Dunmer. But, tired and light-headed from unaccustomed drink, she'd had enough and had returned to Sanctuary. There, she'd been given the contract in the early dawn hours. A contract for her alone, and from an unexpected person.

Sources had said that the Bosmer had intended to head to Cheydinhal on business, and then return to the Imperial City. A kill to be found, but quiet and out of the way. It had been easy to tail him, and to guess at his destination for the night; like her, he had avoided the main road. Thieves were easy to predict when you'd been one. And his horse had been flash enough to notice in amongst the trees. A pretty chestnut, ill suited to the forest shadows.

Still, there were inns when one knew where to look, and the publican was easy to lure into a drink. Easy to mimic, too.

A simple contract, and now she was finding herself wondering what news had been brought to Cheydinhal staggering enough to make drunken drunks Orcs and Dunmer go silent.

If she was lucky, she might return in time for Tales and Tallows, one of her favorite celebrations. She enjoyed giving people cause to fear the dark night. She had been good at it as a child, but frightening adults brought a whole new set of thrills.

She guided her bay mare around mossy rocks, and corrected her course. Away from the road now, north towards the mountains.

Her thoughts returned to the find she'd made, that amulet and the journal. Though she could summon enough light to see by, it would not do to draw notice when she wanted to avoid any possible connection to the inn. She would have to wait until she arrived at the Sanctuary.

"Lord advancing
Through the night."

She sang out again before spurring her horse bay out of its complacent walk. She was feeling tired now, the fade of the thrill, and while she knew her horse would get her to safety, she didn't want to sleep until she reached Sanctuary.

The woodland rose steeply, the Heartland giving way to the northern edge of the Nibenay Basin, the trees denser. Here she kept a sharper eye out, for the way was darker, and goblins often were near the mines in the foothills. Her sister had once mentioned having to root them out, but they kept returning to assault the miners.

Night faded to dawn, the bright flame banding across the horizon. She glanced around, noting landmarks. There, north to her was the dirt track that led to the back entrance of the city, and past the mines, for there was Lake Arrius.

No one was around, and with the ease of long practice and balance on her mount, she eased out of the leathers she wore and into the skirt and blouse she wore around the City. She felt no need to be armored so close to the city, not when she could gallop to the walls and cry out for help, a poor, innocent certainly wouldn't do to change in view of the guards. While they might enjoy the show, she didn't need them to see what she was changing from.

And there, there was the castle, well in sight. She slowed her horse to a walk again, watching the sun rising, lighting the crumbling tops of the old fort up the ridge east of the city. She saw several flowers in bloom along the road, and dismounted to pick them. Potions were always useful, and it led her at a slow pace to the gate. She pulled her pack off, stuffing leaves and petals into it with a nod at the sleepy guard. She looked around. At the gate, she dismounted. There was always a child eager for coin, and she held one up with a bright smile.

"See that Kat gets taken care of proper, or I will find you," she said. He yawned, and took both coin and horse. and she watched the sleepy boy take her horse to the stables whileShe watched them until they were out of sight, then she pushed open the gates.

The new light touched the chapel's stained glass windows, sending jewel-bright colors to sparkle on the river that cut the city in two. She nodded to the other guard on duty, just as ready for his bed as the other, and slipped a coin into the beggar's hand that approached. She saw no one else up and about yet, and walked past the swaying willow into the graveyard.

A small smile on her face, she touched the tombstones she passed. Amongst the dead, she again found renewed appreciation for her own life, such that it was. She didn't know these dead, but one grave was much like another, and without going to Chorrol, it was the closest she could get to her mother.

Her eyes downcast, she chose one of the stones, and knelt to leave one of the flowers. A primrose, for luck, though she was by uneven turns both blessed and cursed. A brief look over her shoulder told her she was out of sight of the gate guard, and a sweeping glance showed no one in sight. She rose, and exited the graveyard.

At the steps of the chapel, she paused, for the only person in sight was yet another guard, across the statue of Arkay, standing outside one of the purple-roofed homes. She frowned, wondering why he was there. He was, however, covering a yawn and not looking her way. She was beginning to yawn herself, and narrowed her eyes at the perpetrator.

She darted across the street to the ramshackle house, it's stone not near as neat as the others nearby, boards covering its windows and the wood of its structure showing decay. It brought a smile to her face, that so near the chapel was the Sanctuary. A shrine of death and a shrine of life. She wondered if it had been done on purpose, and whether, if you dug through the assassin's lair, you would come into the undercroft.

No one saw her approach the well, and she slipped in with practiced ease. Broad, verdant Cheydinhal spread before her, the winding river cutting the city n two. Wood and stone rose, the grand cathedral dwarfing them. The good citizens, surly Orcs and Dunmer immigrants, were just beginning to awaken for the day, and she wove her way through them. There was a downcast air to everyone that nagged at her, but she shrugged it off. She reached the well and slipped down it into the Sanctuary.

The slow creak of old bones and leather greeted her, and she smiled. She was home. In the corner, Teinaava had his reptilian nose in a book.

Her first stop was the living quarters to sort through the things that she wanted to keep. At the corner table, she saw a familiar blond head with an unfamiliar crimson, chatting with her usual humor. She knelt before her chest and took out her key, then paused as she noticed a new scratch against the lock. She sighed, and opened the chest. She studied the contents.

Books filled most of it; spare clothing, her alchemy set and supplies the remainder. On top, her notes were in disarray. She threw a glare towards the table, but the stone pillars were in the way.

There was a fine line between borrowing and stealing.

She rearranged her belongings and added her crop of alchemy goods, the journal and the amulet to it. It glinted in the light, and she began to suspect it not as a ruby, but a different stone entirely. A mystery to be solved later.

Nothing else was worth keeping, although she hadn't yet figured out what to do with the statuette. Rather than carry it around and get fingered for it, she set it in her chest and managed to close the lid. She may just need to sell some of her books to make room.

Or she could find a larger chest.

Leaving her pack beside the chest, she crept along the pillars to eye the far table. When she wanted to, she could cross cobblestones in clogs and make not a sound. There were few she could not sneak up on, although, alas, the opposite was not always true. Antoinetta's chatter to the newcomer drowned out her footstepsdistracted him from the approaching assassin, and she swept up behind the Breton to lay her dagger against her slim throat.

"Dearest Sister. If I find that you have touched my things again, I shall begin taking your fingers for each violation. Are we quite clear?" she asked, smiling against Antoinetta's cheek. The male Dunmer across from her gaped, and the young woman began laughing, her own knife cutting into an apple.

"Welcome back! Sister, look at our newest Brother! Novor, this is dear, sweet Joss," she said, gesturing with her knife, an apple slice stuck to it. Joss swept a look over him; he looked surprised at her blatant threat, but quickly smiled at the introduction.

"Greetings! I am pleased to-"

"Lucien chose him?" she asked, looking at Antoinetta. Something about the overly bright gleam in his red eyes did not sit well with her, either too eager or too alert.

"He did," the Dunmer answered firmly. "He sent me to kill an old man at the-"

"To be sure, a difficult contract," she cut him off, straightening away from them. "Is M'raaj-Dar around?" she asked. Antoinetta nodded, taking a bite of her apple.

"Training, I think. Said something about a smell in the air when he left." With a final flat look at Novor, Joss left, grabbing her pack on her way out. She would never find sleep with Antoinetta's talk and a stranger present. Opening the door, she threw a last threat at the Breton.

"I mean it, Sister. I will flay them off of you." The door shut on the woman's laughter. Joss stooped to pat Schemer before cutting across the main room to the other chamber.

Within, an Orc was bashing a practice dummy into splinters while a Khajiit flung ice at his own target. She stopped by the pillar to watch, crossing her arms. When he ran out of Magicka, he turned to glance at her. It was difficult to read through the fur, but the flat look of his ears suggested annoyance. As she usually got on quite well with him, she guessed that the irritation was not directed at her.

He went to sit on one of the barrels across from her.

"I'd say that the dummy is well and truly iced over; one of Gogron's hits ought to shatter it," she remarked as he opened a potion bottle. He snorted and took a swig before replying.

"Have you seen our newest member?" he asked in his husky voice. She lifted a shoulder in a shrug digging into her own pack. Sleep might not be for awhile, and she needed a refresher for the moment.

"Met; he seems to be getting on well with Antoinetta." She heard the slightest growl coming from him before he took another swallow.

"He is a foul-smelling ape unworthy of licking my boots," he rumbled.

"I don't see why Lucien allowed another member here, when people have been getting killed. And isn't our Sanctuary full? Gogron, Telaenrdil, Antoinetta, Mathieu-"

"Was advanced; he is here no more," the Khajiit said before draining the last of his potion. Refreshed, he rose while Joss digested the news, sipping hers.

It chilled her; Mathieu was like some of the Brotherhood that delighted too much in their work, just this side of insanity. Or in his case, possibly beyond. His eyes gave her the creeps, though he'd always been polite and quiet. Then again, wasn't it always the quiet ones?

"My point still stands."

M'raaj-Dar nodded his agreement, and the two shared a look of mutual suffering. He nodded at her pack. "Anything to sell?" he asked.

She shook her head, finishing off her potion. "No, nothing traceable, so I'm fine. What about you? Anything you need a fence for?"

He brought out a bag heavy with miscellany from the goods assassins 'acquired'. They haggled over her cut of the sale of goods, with her settling for a quarter share of the profits. Once they finished, she looked over his store.

"Do you need more poisons? I can mix some up for you," she asked. He nodded again.

"Yes, that whelp bought the last batch."

She thought over her personal supplies, and made a mental note to stop by Borba's to see if she had the additional ingredients she would need.

"I have a shipment you might like." His clawed hands held out an amulet. She studied its jade surface, noted the enchantment, and tallied it to several hundred gold pieces before looking back at him. "The Eye of Sithis, to help you detect others around you."

She wanted it. It was a pretty piece, and mysticism wasn't her strong suit, though she was better with it than she was with some other schools. She was a good judge of her environment, but on a job, every little bit helped when the slightest error could mean death. Still, though she had acquired enough gold, she was hesitant to spend it on the piece.

She kept her face straight, and shrugged. "It's nice."

M'raaj-Dar studied her before flashing her a toothy grin. "Might offer it for 300, if you don't charge for the potions."

She lost her bid for stoicismapathy, cried out in delight, and flung herself at him. Only familiarity and discipline kept him from freezing her, but she saw his fingers twitch in the beginnings of a spell. She kissed his furred cheek and laid claim to the amulet. One arm still slung over his shoulders, she dangled it between them and grinned. "Mraaj'Dar, my love, you are too good to me."

He extricated himself from her, grumbling that she was behaving too much like Antoinetta. She chuckled and painstakingly counted out the coins. They made a nice pile on the barrel, and her bag felt woefully lighter afterwards. He swept them into his bag while she admired the jade; it was the green of a forest in shadow, a good match.

Their business finished, she decided that she had one more stop before she got to work on the potions. Maybe by the time she finished, she would be able to find a bed. The inn always had nice ones, and would be quiet at any time of day.

Metal clanged towards them, and Gogron loomed over both of them. "Heh, hey Joss. Have you heard the latest?" he asked. She waved a hand at him.

"I need to go see Ocheeva." She favored him with a smile; while they differed in their approach to their work, she didn't mind the brute. "I'll hear it all later."

She shouldered her pack and left the training room. She slipped the necklace on, chill against her skin and sending ghost-shivers through her.

Approaching the Argonian's room, she noticed that one of the doors was already open. She set down her bag and knocked on the ancient doors – wondering, as always, who they had been built to keep out, and whether they'd succeeded. Ocheeva was seated at her desk, writing, but looked up at the knock.

"Joss, greetings. Come in," she rasped. Argonians were hard to read, but between the relaxed mouth and eyes, Joss thought she was pleased to see her. No teeth bared was always a good sign among either of the beast races.

She stepped in, noting that it was chillier than usual, and that a blue haze surrounded Ocheeva. Must be the enchantment; she would have to adjust to the vision change. The haze seemed on the edge of her vision as well, but surely it didn't extend as far as Vicente?

"Your contract?"

"Dead, in an inn, off the road," Joss answered, wondering at the chill that permeated the room. Was it the coming of autumn and winter that made the usually cool structure even colder, or the nagging sensation that someone else was in the room, brought on by the enchantment?.

"Excellent. You carried out the contract well; Sithis is appeasedpleased, and you have earned your reward." She tapped a small bag; the clink of coins indicated a bonus. Studying the bag, she thought it might balance out her purchase, at the very least. "Did you, by chance, determine how Faldir escaped the Prison?" she asked. Joss smirked.

"He said something about a sewer entrance into the Prison, happened to be in his cell." A gleam entered Ocheeva's eyes, and Joss guessed that the information would find a use.

"Wonderful. Ah, and you've earned a promotion. Congratulations, Eliminator."

Smiling, Joss rocked on her feet, and clasped her hands behind her back. "Any new jobs for me?"

Ocheeva frowned, glancing at her parchment. "I'm afraid not. The last contract I had went to Novor."

Joss clenched her hidden fists briefly in irritation. "Well, I guess I'll go visit my other family, then," she said, keeping her voice light.

"I have work for you," a deep, chilling voice spoke from behind her. She spun, her dagger rasping out even as she registered who had spoken. Shrouded in the finest of black robes, the Imperial watched her from behind the door.

"Lucien," she acknowledged. Her heart pounded until it felt about to burst from her chest. She sheathed her dagger, cheeks flaming in embarrassment. Some assassin she was; she should have trusted the enchantment.

"Fear, dearest Sister?" he asked. His voice sent shudders through her, a reminder of their first encounter.

"You startled me is all, Lucien," she answered, working to keep her voice casual.

.

He approached, without not even a whisper from the robes, and she stepped back. Wrath of Sithis be damned; Lucien was the only one in this place that could terrify her so thoroughly, and she suspected that he was well aware of it. Every nerve was tingling at his presence, an odd, exhilarating dread that swept through her better than any potion she knew of. She certainly was no longer tired..

"Indeed." He fingered her amulet, a smirk crossing his shadowed face. She flushed deeper, her breath catching. "I have a contract that requires subtlety. And sadly, does not require a murder. Think you can manage some… restraint?" he asked.

She swallowed. "Of course. What is it?"

"Count Indarys is forgetting his place. The Brotherhood needs you to remind him what it means to fear Sithis." His dark eyes met hers, and she remembered the one and only time she'd failed a contract. She shivered again. So much for nonchalance.

"I can do that."

He stepped back, and she found that there was more air in her personal sphere.

"Ocheeva will give you the details." With that, he stepped to the door. He paused, then said over his shoulder. "It suits you." The air around him shimmered and he vanished from sight, making not a sound on the cold stone on the stone blocks.

Joss wasn't sure whether he'd meant the amulet or her fear.

Ocheeva's chuckle woke her from her fixation. "You look like a mark that's been Illuminated," she said.

"That's about right," Joss mumbled, shaking herself. Even after all their encounters, he still inspired terror in her.

"You do not need to kill anyone for this contract. You need to bribe the Count, and frighten him enough to keep silent but do not kill him. How you go about it is up to you But remember: subtlety."

"I'm not Gogron, Ocheeva; discretion is my specialty."

Joss pocketed the gold, her pay and the bribe, before leaving. M'raaj-Dar wasn't going anywhere, and could wait for the potions. A day or two wouldn't hurt.

Fully awake, she decided that she would get started, formulate a plan, look around the castle for the best way to get to the Count.

She wasn't sure if it was the thrill of a contract, or the pride of receiving one from Lucien personally that so energized her, but she figured that she could sleep later.

And hadn't someone once said that you could sleep when you were dead?

M'raaj-Dar wasn't going anywhere, and could wait for the potions. A day or two wouldn't hurt.

She smiled at how appropriate the thought was, and at an earlier one. as she remembered her earlier thought. Soon would be Tales and Tallows

She would give the Count a reason to fear the night.