It only took a few turns for me to become completely lost. It was almost pitch black in this part of the sewers – I had no idea how the assassin could see. I jumped at every shadow, and eventually the man seemed to take pity on me. He crouched in front of me and once again wiped my tear-stained face. "Hush, little one."
"But-but…I don't understand!" I nearly wailed, but fear kept me to a whisper. "There are monsters here! I'm scared!" I snuffled and wiped my nose on my sleeve. "I don't want to die…"
"You will not die. Yet. You will stay silent, and stay with me." He stood and placed his hand on my shoulder, encompassing me in a cocoon of black velvet. I sniffed, breathing in his scent - a mixture of spices, cold steel, and the sharp tang of poisons. Against my will, my hand reached over and grabbed a handful of his robe, clutching it to me. He looked down at me in surprise, but made no comment.
We continued on, with me clinging to him. At one point, he scooped me under one arm and leapt clear across a drainage line. This prompted a squeak from me, but besides that, I obediently remained quiet.
We halted again when the faint sound of footsteps caught his attention. He pulled me behind a stack of crates, pressing a finger to my lips. We waited in silence as the sound grew closer and closer. I hoped with all my heart that it was just a goblin returning to the old campfire that still smoldered near us. But the silhouette that I could see in the faint glow did not look goblinoid.
Only the assassin's warning kept me from whimpering aloud when the source of the footsteps finally came into view. It was a very pale man – his face was drawn, and his eyes seemed to glow red in the darkness. He only looked like an old man, yet something about him felt very wrong.
He stopped in front of us, and sniffed the air. I felt the assassin tense next to me, and I pressed my hands over my mouth.
Suddenly, the pale man let out an unearthly howl and sprang at us. I saw his fangs glisten, and bit down on a finger to keep from shrieking. A vampire! I heard a rustle of cloth and turned just in time to see the assassin meet the monster mid-leap.
A silver flash, and the vampire fell back, howling. The two men circled each other, looking for an opening. The beast clearly hadn't fed for a while. I knew that much of the legends. You could see the whipcord strength of it, the flexing claws. No wonder the assassin was being careful, this was truly a monster among monsters.
The vampire's eyes kept flicking over to my hiding place. I'd heard that vampires could hear your heart beating from fifty paces. It seemed that that rumor was true. I squeezed the hilt of my dagger so hard that my knuckled turned white and prayed that the assassin would finish the beast off before I became its meal. No matter what the assassin had planned for me, it surely had to be better than having all of my blood drained.
It was now clear that it wanted me, rather than the much more dangerous man it now faced. I swallowed, realizing that I was basically defenseless and easily portable. My eyes fell on the old fire, and a spark of an idea came to me. If only some of the other rumors were true as well…
The next time the vampire's back was to me, I released the death-grip I had on my dagger and very slowly eased toward the fire. The assassin saw me at once, of course, and frowned. I ignored him, chanting, don't look at me, don't look at me, in my head. Slowly, ever so slowly, I reached out for a chunk of wood…
Just then, the vampire spotted me. It spun and leapt, nails grown into claws outstretched, thirsting for my blood. Abandoning all attempts at stealth, I dove at the burning wood, grabbed it with both hands, rolled, and brought it up just as the vampire reached me.
The agonized shriek it made as its flesh burned rang throughout the sewers. I had rammed the wood right into its face with all of my small strength. The stick splintered at the impact, driving burning shards into its head and my hands. I dropped the rest of the stick, and doubled up, clenching my hands to my chest and wailing.
The vampire continued its path over my head, as it clawed at its eyes. A black blur followed it and after the first sound of steel striking flesh, I turned my head away.
The vampire took a very long time to die.
I heard blood splashing on the floor in great gouts. At some point, something flew past my shoulder and bounced on the ground as I rocked back and forth, nursing my hands. I looked to see what it was, which was a mistake. It was an eye.
Once the howling stopped, the assassin walked over to the corner where I was busy throwing up. He waited politely for me to finish and held out a flask. I looked at it, and then at him. He was spotless, as far as I could tell, his face composed. I thought of myself, curled up in the corner, and how I must look.
I decided, in that instant, that I wanted to be like him. I wanted his lack of fear, his strength. I wanted to be able to do what he did. I swore that someday, somehow, I would. If I lived that long.
I wiped my mouth on my sleeve, and reached out to take the flask, but hissed in pain. I'd forgotten about what had happened to my hands. I held them up to my face and nearly vomited again. They looked like…at the time, I had nothing to compare them to. They were covered in blood, and my sleeves were soaked with it. The whiteness of bone showed through in several places. Now that the adrenaline rush from fighting the vampire was gone, the full blast of pain hit me. I passed out.
When I came to, I was completely surprised to be alive. There was absolutely no reason why I should be. The softness beneath me told me that I was on a bedroll. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that the whole thing was just a dream. The taste in the back of my throat told me that it wasn't.
"You're very lucky that you were not awake when I took out the splinters, little one." I opened my eyes again to see the assassin sitting at a desk on the other side of the room. We were still in the sewers, unless his home was made of slimy, green stone, and smelt of things better ignored. But there was a desk, and a few chairs, and some shelves, and the bedroll I was laying on, tucked up in a little nook in the wall. The man was busy writing something, his back to me. By now, I didn't even wonder how he knew I was awake.
I brought up my hands to rub my eyes and saw that they were wrapped in clean, white bandages. I heard the clinking of glass. The assassin had taken a few vials from the shelf and was walking over to me.
"This is a Brotherhood safe hole," he said conversationally, "It is useful when one needs a place to stay in the Imperial city. I won't even mention how very lucky you are that you were not awake when I brought you here. Sit up."
I obeyed, a little clumsily, since I didn't want to put any weight on my hands. He set down the vials and pulled up a chair. Taking my wrists in a firm grip, he began to unwrap the bandages. "Now, then." he said, "I think the Cure Disease potion should have taken by now. I assume you didn't want to become a vampire?"
I shook my head violently. He continued, examining my hands, "Blood to blood contact like you had is very dangerous. It's rather more difficult to remove the infection, especially with you unconscious like that." He looked me in the eye, "What you did was incredibly stupid, little one. Brave, perhaps, but incredibly stupid. I was more than capable of handling that monster by myself. I do know how to fight vampires." He smirked, as though enjoying a private joke.
"Still…" his glare softened, "it was well done."
He nodded then, apparently satisfied by the condition of my hands. Reaching down, he uncorked one of the bottles. "Hold out your hands," he instructed, "and do not scream. This will hurt quite a bit."
I blinked, and without another warning, he splashed the liquid over my hands. Pain lanced through me, and the sharp smell of alcohol assaulted my nose. I made a strangled noise, and, as the pain subsided, added some words that I'd learnt from the pirates.
"I will excuse what you just called me, if only because I doubt you even know what it means. Now drink, the brandy will help get rid of the taste in your mouth." He raised the bottle he'd just drenched my hands with. I regarded it with suspicion, but opened my mouth anyway. He tipped a good amount in and I swallowed automatically. Immediately, my throat caught on fire, my eyes and nose began running, and I began to cough as though I had Bloodlung.
When I was able to breathe again, I wiped my eyes, and croaked, "Water. Please." He held out the flask he had offered earlier, and I drank greedily. "Thank you," I whispered, when I was finished.
"Of course, little one." He corked the bottles, and stood. I looked at my hands, and realized that they were now perfectly smooth. Whether the water contained a healing elixir, or if he had cast a spell when I was coughing, I didn't know. But, I reflected as I wriggled my fingers, at least they still work. A thief without hands was as good as…oh.
I raised my head to see the assassin leaning against the wall, watching me. I opened and closed my mouth several times, trying to think of what to say, finally settling on, "Why?"
"Sithis knows," he said, and shrugged. I couldn't tell if he meant it to mean to ask someone who actually knew, or if he was saying it the same way that others said, "Akatosh knows." I didn't even know who Sithis was, but figured I'd better not ask as he continued, "For now, consider it a whim on my part. Just because I'm a murderer doesn't mean I have to indiscriminately slaughter everyone I meet. Some of us do, I'll grant you, but I like to think that I have more…restraint. At any rate, I certainly couldn't kill you inside that man's house. It would be foolish to draw attention to myself that way."
I shivered at his matter-of-fact tone. "Oh."
"I'm not sure yet what I will do with you, but for now, don't worry about a knife in your back. You are proving to be an interesting…diversion. Until I decide otherwise, you are under my protection." He bowed his head to me. "Lucien Lachance, Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood, at your service."