Chapter II: Tanner

"Taniale! I need you out of that bed! Up! Now."

The girl lay under the warm covers for a moment longer, staring up at the gaps between the boards that made up the ceiling. They needed to be caulked something awful, but finding the time to do so was an entirely different matter. With a groan, she heaved herself out of bed. Her feet still felt a bit swollen from yesterday's work.

A sturdy Nord woman peeked around the corner, the terror of failing someone in her eyes.

"Don't even wash!" she snapped, "You can eat breakfast on the walk to work. We just got a new missive. They need that shipment and they need it now. If you can walk it down there before sunrise, all the better."

"Right…" Taniale sighed, digging out a kirtle from the laundry pile that didn't look too filthy.

She threw on a pair of shoes, ran her fingers through her hair and was off. Her mother threw a cloth bundle at her as she rounded the corner and then turned away to put the final touches on the bale of leather she was tying up.

"Where's Henri?" she asked, a yawn escaping her lungs. She had just realized how empty the house seemed. It was too early for this.

"Down at the tannery with your father. This order they placed…I just don't know if we can finish it in time. It'll be all hands on deck today, let me tell you. Be as quick as you can with your errand so we can get back to work!"

"For the glory of the Aldmeri Dominion…" she muttered halfheartedly under her breath, doing a backhanded salute.

Her mother's quick hands stopped what they were doing.

"Yes…" she answered sadly, her shoulders drooping, "Let's…just be glad we're getting work at all. Focus on the positive."

And then in a lower voice, "They won't be around forever."

Taniale smiled, glancing at her mother's old legion sword on the wall, still kept in immaculate condition after all these years.

"Here we are!" she exclaimed, heaving herself out of the chair and limping on her old war injury, leather in hand. "Now, be careful. Don't attract too much attention to yourself. Try to get as much as you can from the armorer, but don't push too hard or they'll find another supplier!"

Taniale hefted the bale onto her back, trying not to fall backwards from the weight.

Her mother was working a mile a minute at the end table she called a desk, her quill scratching away as she silently mouthed the figures she was adding up. The girl lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, wanting to say something - to kiss her goodbye, to confess that she wasn't so certain about the wedding plans anymore. But she was busy and the wrinkles on her forehead deepened with every figure she added.

She glanced at her mother one last time and eased herself through the narrow entrance to the outside world.

-oOo-

"Ah!" a sharp voice whined as she opened the door.

She winced when she felt it connect with something solid on the other side.

"Gods, it's too early for this…" the voice wheedled sleepily.

"Sorry." she whispered, closing the door more softly than she'd opened it.

There were vagrants all over the waterfront - sleeping on front steps, under eaves, clustering into abandoned cottages. They had their hiding spots under the nose of the Imperial City itself, but it wasn't legal for them to spend a night there anymore. The city was undertaking a dramatic building project. The ancient architecture was being restored from the damage it had suffered during the war, new buildings were being built. And the undesirable were being purged from its marble streets.

Taniale had never minded the vagrants. They'd let one spend a cold night indoors on more than one occasion. Most were friendly and down on their luck. But for the grace of the gods went her family too.

She strode through the archway to the port, shifting the load on her back just a bit to see if she could make it more comfortable. It helped for a second before it became just as painful as it had been.

Two Aldmeri guards stood watch at the gate to the city, their armor gleaming like beetle shells in the moonlight, their posture ramrod straight despite the earliness of the hour.

"Name and business." One said curtly, his hand on his sword.

"Coriarius." she said softly, too afraid to look him in the eye, "I'm making a delivery to the market district."

"Very good." he answered, pulling a shining key from his belt and unlocking the door.

The gate closed behind her and she let out a breath that she hadn't even known she'd been holding.

As she passed to the end of the dark archway, she saw it, rising up against the morning sky. The Temple of the One, its dome cracked as it had been for so many centuries, the golden dragon rearing its head inside. Oh, they'd tried to rededicate the temple to every other god on Nirn. To rewrite the history of what had happened there, to change the glory of the Septims to something else. But they'd never succeeded. Vandals always managed to sneak in and throw every Aldmeri banner to the ground, rewrite every change that had been done. There had been a few arrests. Armed guards were stationed in the temple around the clock, their eyes boring holes through the backs of everyone who entered. But still, the changes never stuck. It certainly wasn't for lack of trying on the Thalmor's part.

The secret workers of the night were finishing up their duties before receding into the woodwork - street sweepers removing every trace of refuse from the perfect cobblestones, night soil men hauling their loads to where they wouldn't offend high class noses, shopkeeps sweeping up in front of their businesses before taking their place behind expensive merchandise for the rest of the day. In a few hours everything would be noise and color and raucous perfume. The rich would parade their ill-gotten gains down the streets they'd conquered and Taniale thanked all the gods that she'd be back at the tannery by then, knee-deep in sheep urine.

At last she came to the armory dominating the center of the market district. They'd bought out what was once an entire block of storefronts to build it. She had vague memories of there being a newspaper in the corner office and a kindly old man who put copies of it in everyone's hands whether they wanted it or not. Now it was full of worktables, forges, whetstones and tools, crate upon crate of raw materials. And there was the armor, of course. All elven-made, graceful and deadly-looking all at once. She stole a glance at the half-finished pieces, the pointy symbol of the Thalmor already carved along the edges, worked into the design so subtly as to almost not be there. Almost.

"Excuse me." she called softly, opening the quartermaster's door with a creak.

A bell tinkled as she stepped over the threshold into the gloomy room.

"I'm here with the Coriarius delivery."

"Thank the Eight." a grimacing elf with thin lips said, not entirely sincere, "Do you people know how far behind we are here? Gods, I'd switch over to the supplier in Bruma if they weren't so damn far away…"

He wrinkled his nose disdainfully as she walked toward him. She found herself wishing desperately that she'd had a chance to wash now. Though soap could only ever leech so much of the stink of the tannery from her skin.

She hefted her load onto the desk with a grunt, trying not to show the fear on her face. He cut its ties with one quick snick of his golden knife and held up the first layer of leather for inspection in front of his flickering lantern.

"Hmm." he muttered, testing it between his fingers, scratching and poking at it, "This is junk. But since we need it so badly…170 septims."

A surge of hatred rose in her breast. For half a moment the flame in the lantern flared up, sending odd and frightening shadows across the wall. It was over as soon as it had begun and left the elf staring quizzically at her, confusion and fear marring his immaculate features. The sheet of leather danged limply between his fingers like the corpse of a dead animal.

"200." she said softly, crossing her arms.

"195. I'll…" he mopped his suddenly sweaty brow, "I'll just…get you your money then…yes."

He scurried to the strongbox in the back like all of Oblivion was on his tail.

-oOo-

The city was stirring from its slumber, its resplendent residents rising from the depths like sea monsters. Stylish little cafes threw open their doors and hawked pastries to half-awake customers. The traveling salesmen rolled up the shutters of their carts and trundled along the boulevard, shouting their wares at the top of their lungs. A gilded procession of high-ranking elves paraded their way down the street, shoving aside any who couldn't make room for them fast enough.

The bag of coins jangled at Taniale's belt as she followed the progress of a sausage cart hungrily before abruptly turning away and breaking into the breakfast her mother had packed her. It was a stale crust of bread from the day before and a wedge of simple cheese. Frowning, she tore off a piece of the bread and tried to get her mouth moist enough to chew it.

She was almost at the front gate of the city now, steadily working against the flow of traders, mercenaries and soldiers that were pouring in. The litany of chores that had to be completed today was running dizzily through her head - all the mundane little things that had to be done to keep from falling into a pit from which there was no climbing out of. She worked against the flow of the crowd slowly, carefully making her way to the front gate, half-dreaming, awake only enough to not cause an accident.

"Tan!" she heard a wretched voice cry over the noise of the crowd, faintly, distantly, "Tan, stop!"

She blinked the daydreams from her eyes, a morsel of bread sticking in her throat like a lump of stone. There was a familiar figure zigzagging through the crowd, swimming against all who stood in his way. Her heart sank when she saw him. Not now. It's too damn early for any of this.

"Tan!" he gasped, popping out in front of her and seizing her shoulders, "We have to get out of here!"

"Wha…?" she murmured, trying not to spew bread crumbs down her front.

The boy shoved her bodily off the street and yanked her down a dark alleyway, pushing her against a wall and clapping his hand over her mouth.

He was sweating profusely, a look of sheer terror in his eyes, his silky black hair matted against his head.

"Henri…" Taniale said softly, pulling his hand from her mouth, a tingle of fear knocking about in her heart, "What's happened?"

"It's…" he choked out, trying with all his might not to burst into tears.

Giving up on speaking, he pointed meekly toward the crowd surging through the plaza beside them.

Half a dozen Thalmor agents were marching past their hiding spot, their armor gleaming in the sun, their hawk-like visages cutting a striking profile against the chaos that surged around them.

A man in chains trudged between them, his head bowed, utter defeat in his eyes. His gray hair fluttered in a gust of wind and with that, he was gone.

She felt a sliver of ice sink into her heart. Her knees felt weak. The world was starting to spin. Henri was going on and on about something or other, spewing words at lightening speed. All she could hear was the rushing in her ears, the sound of a single word wept ad infinitum in the caverns of her mind.

Father.

"I-I…I don't know what happened." Henri sputtered out, gesticulating wildly, "Either a neighbor ragged on us about the Talos worship or...or maybe they think your mother's in league with the rebels in Skyrim. I was out buying firewood from Weye when it happened. A-And when I got back…"

He slumped against the wall, pounding his knuckles into his forehead over and over again.

Taniale steadied herself against the smooth stone bricks, icy cold against her thin clothing. She was trying to breathe, to think things through. Clarity broke through her panic like sunlight through cracks in the ceiling.

"Mother!" she hissed under her breath, startling Henricus out of his self-flagellation, "I have to warn her."

"How?" he cried, "There's Thalmor at every exit. They're…"

He rubbed the back of his head, looking inextricably sad.

"They're looking for you too."

The gleaming Ayleid walls of the city tightened like a noose around her neck. She sunk to the ground, her shaking hands covering her face.

For a split second, she hated Henri more than anyone else in the world. Why did he have to come running to find her? What if she had just been arrested at the gate, unawares? Surely that would have been a kinder death than the slow strangulation that comes with the cage of the gilded city and the thought that while she was still free she had a chance at all.

But that was an awful thought and she threw it from her mind like the piece of trash that it was. Henri sat down next to her and sighed. He squeezed her hand and held her close, trying not to cry himself. She didn't try to push him away this time.

"What about you, then?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head, calmer than he was before.

"I didn't hear my name on their list. I don't think they have any records of me. Not as part of the family, anyway."

"Lucky." She smiled halfheartedly. The gesture took all the energy she had left.

"Right…" he answered bitterly, a cruel smirk on his face, "Being born in the sewers to parents that don't legally exist - best thing that can happen to a lad, that."

Her parents had adopted him as their son before she was born. They didn't think it was possible for them to have children. But plans change in the blink of an eye.

"Wait a minute…" he muttered, standing up with sudden urgency and looking around the narrow alleyway. "The sewers!"

He took off running down a shady corner like a daedra was on his tail. Taniale raced to her feet and chased after him, hitching her skirts up to her knees. She found him standing in a dead garden behind what was once a grand house. Shriveled plants in cracked pots lined the faded walls. He was frantically shoving them aside and glowering at the cobblestones beneath.

One of them tipped over and shattered when he pushed it just a little too roughly. The sound bounced off the empty walls surrounding them, announcing their presence to the world. The two of them froze in sheer horror, watching and waiting for the hammer that was surely about to fall.

No elves in shining armor came bursting in to kill them, nor watchmen concerned with neighborhood theft. All they could hear was the distant murmur of everyday business being carried out on the other side of the ancient house. Time passed and they started breathing again. Henri kicked one last pot aside with the heel of his foot and hauled open the sewer cap he had found with a satisfied grunt.

"I don't know if you've seen this before…" he said quietly, lowering himself down into the reeking hole, "But these tunnels run all through the island. There used to be more of them - the Thalmor saw to that. Too much opportunity for secret meetings and all that. But every once in a while…something slips through the cracks."

He vanished into the darkness, the sound of his feet hitting iron rungs echoing in the emptiness below. Taniale looked down after him and felt sick, imagining slick walls closing in around her, a single misstep that would leave her drowning in excrement. Taking one last breath of fresh air, she put her foot on the first rung and began to descend.

It was far more spacious than she'd been imagining. The thin shaft of light from the outside world illuminated a massive chamber supported by crumbling pillars. There was a rusty lantern in Henri's hand with what looked like just a trickle of oil left in the bottom. He struggled to light it, his hands still quivering, striking sparks from his flint and steel, none of which were catching. Taniale shot a glare at the offending instrument and the wick ignited with a sudden violence, nearly causing Henri to drop it.

"Somewhere in here…" he went on, shuttering the lantern and stepping deeper into the dank world beneath the city, "There's a drainage pipe that opens on the other side of the island. I'm sure of it."

Taniale took a shaky breath and gagged on the stench that assaulted her. The island of light that was her fiance was getting further and further away. She rushed to his side, panic rising in her breast. Henricus seemed shocked when she grabbed his hand of her own volition and clasped it tightly. He squeezed it back and smiled, though there was fear in his eyes.

-oOo-

"Ohh no…" Henri muttered, an undercurrent of panic in his voice.

The lantern had started to sputter, its last trickle of oil about to be used up. They were still deep under the city, surrounded on all sides by tight walls and steep drops. Things crept and slithered in the shadows, just outside their line of sight.

"Give it here!" Taniale hissed, holding out her hands.

He passed it over carefully, trying not to disturb the flame. Taniale held it between the palms of her hands, staring deep into its dying light, pouring her will into the continuation of its short life. Gradually, it steadied. A bead of sweat slid down her chin from the effort.

"Okay…" she breathed out, relaxing her grip and letting the lantern dangle at her side, "Where to next?"

"Here." he pointed down another ancient passageway, watching where he put his feet as he walked, "I can hear the port."

Taniale thought she could too - the sound of rigging creaking in the wind, barked orders and the shifting of cargo. But when she tried to hear it again, there was nothing there b ut the trickle of water and the skitter of rats.

They walked on a little further, taking claustrophobic twists and turns when the smell of the lake hit Taniale like a ton of bricks and the sudden burst of daylight scorched her eyes.

"Akatosh's ass!" Henri exclaimed, just a fraction of a decibel too loud, "This wasn't here before!"

A grate, its bars spaced far too perfectly to allow anyone exit or entrance, stretched across the end of the pipe. The newness of its construction clashed with the character of the entire rest of the sewer system.

Taniale set the lantern down and it at last sputtered and died. She ran her hands over all the bars, testing them one by one for weakness. All of them were flawlessly formed and joined with immaculate craftsmanship. Her heart was sinking with every one she tried.

And then she saw it - one bar at the very bottom, marred with what looked like the workings of a hacksaw. Straining with the effort, she yanked it free, sending herself flying backwards with a splash into the muck of the pipe. Moisture soaked through to her undergarments and she shivered with disgust. But the pipe was in her hand and the opening to freedom beckoned.

It looked like barely enough space to admit her shoulders. She wasn't sure if anything bigger than a dog could make it through at all.

Henricus was holding his hand out, a tragic look on his face. Taniale took it, pulling herself to her unsteady feet. She wrapped her arms around him, sticking her nose in the crook of his neck.

"I'll be back." she whispered in his ear, "Wait for me. If I'm not there in a couple of hours, well…"

Slowly, unwillingly, he let go of her.

"I'll be here." he said softly, his voice low and hoarse.

She looked disdainfully at the noxious sludge at her feet. Screwing up her courage, she dropped down on her belly and slowly squirmed through the opening. Halfway through, the broken end of the bar caught on the back of the dress and threatened to rip it from her back. Henri pried it loose and she crawled free a moment later, every part of her slick with the sludge, stinking worse than she ever had after a long day at the tannery.

Henri watched her through the bars as she stood up, pointlessly trying to dust herself off. She caught his eye for a moment, gave him a weak smile and was gone.

She jogged around the dirt trail circling the city, feeling more exposed than she 'd felt in an hour. Every gust of wind sent the hairs on the back of her neck standing straight up. She thought she saw staring eyes from every battlement above her, their weapons poised to end her life right then and there.

A flood of relief rushed through her system when she spotted a fisherman's abandoned boat on the beach down below. There was a ragged old blanket stuffed under its seat that she threw around her shoulders like a cloak, concealing the bottom half of her face and pulling it over her head.

Around the bend she could see the ships coming and going from the port and hear the clattering noise of their business. The gate to the city, with its two elven guards stood at the end of the harbor, looming large in both reality and her imagination.

She took a deep breath and tried to relax. Just another vagrant. That 's all she was now. That was all they had to see. She strolled down the hill beside them, hunching her back a little and shuffling her feet.

They looked right through her as she passed, though one of them wrinkled his perfect nose when her stench hit him. Taniale's heart raced as she turned her back to them, circling the lighthouse and passing through the archway that led back to home.

There it was. The house, its old planks half rotted by sea breezes, the door nothing but an unfinished slab of wood crudely stuck in the entrance way. A growing urgency in her steps, she scrambled down the pathway. She was about to run through the door, hurl herself into her mother's arms, when a trio of soldiers rounded the corner from the opposite direction.

Two Thalmor agents, each with a pair of shackles at their belts and one neighborhood watchman, his shoulders slumped and his feet dragging as he walked.

Her heart stopped. Slowly, she backed under the eaves of an abandoned shack, holding the blanket tight to her.

The watchman knocked on the door. Once. Twice. When he raised his hand for the third time, the door swung open.

"Hekla Coriarius?" one of the elves asked, his voice elegantly accented.

"Yes…" her mother answered, suspicion and irritation in equal measure coloring her answer. She crossed her arms, staring them down.

"We have had a complaint. You and your family are under arrest for suspicion of praise to a false god."

"What?" she breathed, her face going red with rage, "We never…Who told you? I'll have you know that - "

The elf put his hand up, stopping her flat.

"Your husband has already given a confession." he said coolly, the words sliding off his tongue like golden honey, "Your house and you are to be searched for evidence of the claim. A trial will decide your guilt. You will need to come with us."

"Look, here!" she exclaimed angrily, stamping her foot.

There was a group of onlookers gathering now. Curious faces, passing laborers, dirty orphans who gawked with bigger eyes than all the rest of the lot combined. Taniale sunk deeper into the crowd, hiding herself behind a washerwoman with no teeth. She could hear the sound of water rushing in her ears. She felt as though she were falling backwards, crashing through an empty void, spiraling into nothingness. Not yet, she told herself, biting her lip to keep a grip of herself.

"I served this empire for fifteen years!" her mother spat, jabbing her finger at the chest of the guilty-looking watchman, "I fought for you all in the Red Ring! I've been supplying your godforsaken army since then! And this is how the Empire repays those who are loyal to it?"

"M'am." the watchman said sorrowfully, refusing to look her in the eye, "Please. You need to come with us for the time being. I'll…I'll try to clear this up as best I can. Promise."

She exhaled loudly and her fist struck the door frame in resignation.

"Fine." she conceded, a barely detectable tremor of fear in her voice. "Take me to my husband."

Looking them dead in the eyes, her jaw set, she held out her hands.

One of the elves pulled the shackles from his belt and one by one, fastened them around her wrists with a metallic click and a jangle of chains.

"One last question." the elf asked, his smile like a wolf's, "Is your daughter at home?"

She could feel her mother's brazen smile bursting like sunlight through a roiling storm.

"Ha! No." she laughed, "She's out. Where, why…I couldn't tell you. She always did have wandering feet."

"Hekla…" the elf purred with menace, the cruel smile leaving his face, "This will go worse for you if you lie."

"Shor's honest truth!" She smiled mock-innocently, her grin all teeth. "I don't know where she is."

The elf sighed, exasperated. He mumbled something that was lost in the murmur of the crowd.

"Spread out!" came the curt order all of a sudden, "Search the house. The neighborhood. Every nook and cranny!"

The crowd dispersed like someone had thrown a bucket of pitch in the midst of it. Taniale stuck to the washerwoman, her heart pounding in her ears, trying not to run too fast, to show the terror and sorrow that surged in her heart.

She climbed the path up the hill with tears pouring down her face, her disguise slipping from her shoulders, the mud of the sewers drying and cracking on her skin.

-oOo-

Henri was pacing restlessly when she came storming back, from one end of the tunnel to the other, for what seemed like a procession of endless hours. He jolted himself back into reality when he heard someone clawing her way up the grassy hill, panting breathlessly.

"Taniale?" he asked under his breath, hardly hoping that it was.

Her footsteps echoed noisily as she strode down the pipe, a fistful of grass in her hand.

He saw tear streaks cutting through the grime on her face and anger in her step. The grass burst into flame in her hand and she flicked the ashes away disgustedly.

"What happened?" Henricus panted, struggling against the bars between them to no avail. He shoved his arm through a gap and reached for her, grasping at empty air.

She sat down heavily, just outside his reach, her shoulders shaking.

"Taniale, please!" he cried, wishing with all his might that he was small enough to fit through the hole.

She didn't answer. Without a word, she pulled the filthy blanket she was wearing over her head and turned away.

-oOo-

Taniale leaned against the wall of the drainage pipe, her damp dress still clinging to her legs, her body wearier than she thought possible. She watched the sun set over the shimmering lake, remembering when her parents had taught her to swim. Her stomach grumbled, rudely interrupting her thoughts. She tried to think of something else. Something, anything pleasant.

She wasn't sure if Henricus was asleep or not. He seemed to be dozing standing up, the muck on the bottom of the pipe squelching as he shifted his balance now and again.

There was a set of words on the tip of her tongue that she knew she had to say eventually. She feared that the sound of them might destroy him, might shatter whatever illusions of having a family that he had. But he looked so sweet with his eyes closed, so free of worry in wherever it was he went when he dreamed. She bit her bottom lip to hold them in. Just for a little longer.

"Henri…" she whispered, the name slipping out past her grasp.

His eyes flicked open as though he'd never been sleeping. He looked haggard, so much older than his years.

"I'm going to leave tonight."

He nodded sleepily.

"I'll come with you. Work my way through this, find another exit…"

Her fists clenched into balls against the slimy wall. She wasn't sure if she was shivering from the cold and damp or something else. She breathed and the word came out.

"No."

His eyes went wide and she saw his lips forming a rebuttal.

"You have your freedom." she said quickly, cutting him off, "Don't throw it away by helping me."

"What else am I supposed to do?" he hissed, the hurt growing in his voice, "How can you - "

"I need you to stay here and take care of the tannery!" she cried, her voice cracking on the last syllable.

"Until…" she added, choking back tears, "Until they get back. They have to have something to come back to."

He frowned, saying nothing, his stance telling her that he was not any happier with this idea than any other.

She pushed off the wall, fitted her arms between the bars and wrapped them around him.

"I'll find you again." she choked out, squeezing him as tightly as the barrier between them permitted, "Someday…"

Neither of them said anything more as they held each other against the winds and the waves outside.

-oOo-

Taniale crept up the embankment, the cool waters of Lake Rumare lapping at her ankles. With a quiet grunt, she pulled the little rowboat halfway out of the water, resting it on the sandy soil. It had at least two leaks somewhere in its ratty hull and she 'd had to bail it out before it had even gotten to the opposite shore. But that didn't concern her too much. There was only one last voyage that it had to make.

Staying low to the ground, she slipped under the eaves of shacks slowly falling into ruin around the ears of their owners, being careful to avoid the sleeping bodies littered across the Waterfront. She worked her way back to the house, her every sense on the alert, jumping at every shadow.

The door was hanging open, swaying slightly in the night breeze. She slid through, letting in a thin beam of moonlight to see by. It was a horrible mess inside. Everything they 'd owned was thrown on the floor in jumbled heaps, the pillows torn apart and blankets ripped to shreds. As she stepped towards the window, her foot crunched on something that sounded like broken glass.

Feeling around in the darkness, she wrapped her fingers around the wooden board that covered the window at night. With a little jiggling, she pulled it free and set the heavy thing down on the floor with a thunk. It'd been caught on a rusty nail sticking out of the windowsill. She half-remembered her father putting it there one Winter when the chilling lake breezes kept knocking the window covering loose.

It looked so much worse in the moonlight. She wondered if there was even any point in coming back here to pack.

At the very least, she decided, she could snatch up a few extra layers of clothing. An old shirt of her father's lay crumpled on the floor at her feet, the mark of dirty boots crisscrossing it. Gingerly, she picked it up, shaking what dirt she could out of it.

With sudden violence, the door slammed behind her and a scream escaped her throat before she could stop it. She whirled around in a panic and a saw a tall, elegant elf standing there, his leer illuminated by the moonlight glowing through the window, his golden armor looking cold and unlovely in the silver light. Her mother's sword was in his hand, gleaming as he twirled it like a toy.

"Good evening." he said cordially, his other hand firmly on the latch. "I presume that you're the one I've been waiting for."

Pure, unadulterated hatred boiled in her breast. She thought of her mother in chains, her father babbling a terrified confession, Henri slipping away into the darkness of the sewers, pausing only to give her the saddest of looks as he left.

"Get out of my house." she whispered, her voice low and hoarse.

"Really now?" he laughed, the irons on his belt jangling.

"Get out." she said a little louder. The shirt in her hand began to smoke.

The elf's eyes narrowed. He took a step closer, holding the sword protectively in front of him.

"By order of the First Emissary of Cyrodiil, you are under arrest for violating the laws put forth in the White-Gold Concordat. You are to come quietly or face the consequences of your - "

The shirt burst into flames in her hand and she flung it at his face with all her strength. He shrieked and the sword fell from his hand, clattering to the floor in raucous cacophony of clangs.

She dove for the window, meaning to jump over the edge, when a hand closed around her ankle and pulled her to the floor. The elf stood over her, embers burning in his tousled hair, rage filling his bloodshot eyes. With a roar of effort, she lunged forward, singeing his face with her flaming hand. He screamed in agony, falling backwards as he tried to put the fire in his eyebrows out.

She couldn't keep this up. One more second and he'd be back on top of her. There wasn't time to run, no time to think -

She seized a shredded pillow and it burst into flame in her hands. The wood of the floor caught easily, spurred on by her fiery will. It licked up the walls, the bedspreads, the overturned furniture littering the dark wood floor. The beams of the ceiling caught before she even had a chance to think it.

The elf was backed into the opposite wall, staring in sheer horror at the growing inferno. Coughing, his eyes watering and without a second thought, he tumbled through the flames, hurled the door open and ran out into the night, stray embers flying behind him.

Taniale coughed, straining to breathe in the thickening air. She could hear the old structure crying and moaning under the strain. Flames were licking at the hem of her dress. With shaking hands, she gripped the windowsill and propelled herself out. The nail cut a swath across her shin as she jumped, causing her to cry out in pain as she fell into the cool night air. Gasping for breath, she ran for it. People were shouting and running all around. She could hear the clomp of steel-toed boots behind her and the sound of her name being screamed in the night.

No hesitation in her step, she flung herself into the chilly waters of Lake Rumare.

-oOo-

The Waterfront burned. Sparks leaped from roof to roof, setting the thatch ablaze. Tiny people were running amid the flames - pulling down houses, heaving buckets of water ineffectually at lost causes. A man pulled a limp body from burning wreckage and collapsed himself.

Taniale lay on the far shore panting with exertion, every fiber of her being pushed to the limit of weariness. Her clothes clung to her legs like icy rags and chills like daggers ran down her spine.

She watched the carnage from afar, in a disconnected sort of way, the men like ants rushing to put out the fire. A deep chill settled in her bones and she began to shiver uncontrollably, tears running down her face.

There were Thalmor on the far shore. She could see the firelight glinting off their armor, their carapaces skittering this way and that like the beetles they were.

With a great force of effort, she heaved herself to her feet and began to run. The thought of where didn't cross her mind or what she'd do when she arrived. Getting far away from here - that was the only thing that mattered. The world flew by under her feet and the light of the fire vanished with distance.

But the smoke spread out over the entire sky, following her until daylight, the memory of what she 'd done haunting her every step.