I arrive back in the Sanctuary after about a week of traveling. I am tired from all this foolish business with the Graybeards and the Blades and am quite happy to be home, where things are less complicated.
Astrid isn't standing in her usual place by the map, and I hear noises from the main room.
"But the Night Mother is mother to all!" Cries a shrill voice. "It is her voice we follow! Her will! Would you dare risk disobedience? And surely… punishment?"
I enter the room hesitantly to see my Family gathered around a familiar little jester. Transporting his mother, he claimed… what is in that box?
"Keep talking, little man, and we'll see who gets 'punished'." Growls the wolf.
"Oh, be quiet, you great lumbering lapdog." The old mage scowls. "The man has had a long journey. You can at least be civil." He turns toward the fool. "Mister Cicero, I for one am delighted you and the Night Mother have arrived. Your presence here signals a welcome return to tradition."
"Oh, what a kind and wise wizard you are!" The fool grins and claps his hands like a child. "Sure to earn our Lady's favor."
"You and the Night Mother are certainly welcome here, Cicero." Astrid declares cordially. "And you will be afforded the respect deserving of your position as Keeper. Understood… husband?" She adds, glaring at the wolf subtly.
He huffs and walks away.
"Oh yes, yes, yes!" The fool cheers, starting to do a short little dance. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"But make no mistake. I am the leader of this Sanctuary." Astrid states pointedly. "My word is law. Are we clear on that point?"
"Oh yes, mistress. Perfectly! You're the boss." Cicero nods emphatically.
I retreat back into the map room and wait for Astrid to return. She notices me and smiles. "Ah, there you are. I was done talking to that muttering fool anyway. We have business to discuss."
"You have a contact for me?"
"I do indeed." She replies. "You must go to the city of Markarth and speak to the apothecary's assistant. You'll probably find her in the Hag's Cure when the shop is open. The girl's been running her mouth – wants an ex-lover killed. She's apparently performed the Black Sacrament. Her name is Muiri. I need you to talk to her, set up the contract, and carry it out."
Well, at least she's finally letting me prove myself. "Anything else?"
"Just do whatever the contact wishes." Astrid answers. "Be professional, represent us well, and get the job done. Since it's your first contract, I'll let you keep whatever Muiri pays. She'll be generous, I'm sure. They always are."
With that, she turns away and walks back to her normal place by the wall.
"Astrid?" I lower the hood of my cloak.
"You have a question?"
"This jester…"
"I know. I don't like his presence here any more than you do, but it's necessary right now." Astrid says.
"I've spoken with him once, in Whiterun Hold." I explain. "His wagon broke, and he asked me to help him convince a farmer to fix it. He did pay me."
"Interesting." Astrid muses. "Then he'll trust you more than any of us. You should speak to him as soon as you can. He might respond better to you than he would to us." She continues. "Just go and see if you can get anything out of him. See what he wants."
"Very well." I walk toward the fool and his face stretches into a grin I didn't even know could fit. "You! Cicero never forgets a face!" He flings his arms around my shoulders, squeezing me tightly. Mad indeed, but if I can stomach it, he may prove useful. "Oh, how wonderful to see you're one of the Family!"
"You're the jester from the road," I note, "transporting his mother."
"Oh, I am! I was! But not just my mother! Our mother, hmm? The Night Mother!" He says, never losing his smile. "Oh, yes! And you helped me! You helped Cicero! You talked to Loreius, got him to fix my wheel! Oh, you may have pleased me, but you have surely pleased the Night Mother. And our mother, she will never forget!"
When I say nothing, he continues. "Ooh, so silent, so menacing." He says lowly. "A true assassin of the Old Ways. Cicero likes you. Oh, Cicero likes you indeed…" He trails off, staring at me diligently. He seems to be studying me for something, but I know not what.
"Why are you staring at me?" I ask, my voice taking an icy tone.
"Oh, Cicero was just thinking." He says quickly. "Thinking of… someone."
After looking him over, I scowl. "You're an Imperial. What brings you to Skyrim?"
"Cicero could ask the same of you. A Breton, here in the icy cold?" He grins again, sickly sweet. "The Night Mother's crypt in Bravil was… desecrated. The Imperial Province is ravaged by strife. Nowhere there is safe, at present." His eyes wander about the floor, carrying a surprisingly haunted look. "So Cicero brought our Lady to her new home. Here! This is the only Sanctuary left in all of Skyrim, you see. Such was my… honor. As Keeper."
Astrid can hear every word we say, stalking about behind me, so I don't think I need to memorize his answers. "So what are the duties of your role?" I inquire, even though I don't really care.
He grins. "Oh, Cicero takes care of our Lady's body. Oils it, preserves it, keeps it safe. Makes sure nobody disrespects our Matron's coffin." He makes a face. "Only the best get my job."
"I'm sure." I respond, inwardly shuddering at the thought. "Tell me about yourself, Brother."
"Me?" His cheeks flush again and he shuffles his feet, as if he's never been asked about himself before. "Oh, Cicero is just Keeper. I… keep!" He giggles. "I take care of our matron, you see. The Night Mother. I keep her clean, and protected, and happy…" he trails off as if thinking about something unpleasant. Then his eyes return to me with a familiarly haunting darkness and he adds, "But I am not the Listener. Oh, no! There is no Listener. Not yet! But some day, some day, some day, I pray that one will come to hear her say… the words." He finishes in a hushed tone, with a hint of that laughter that never seems to leave him.
"Tell me your thoughts on Sithis."
"Hmm…" He hums thoughtfully, his golden eyes wandering before eventually settling on mine. A dark smile creeps across his face and he takes a deep breath. "That's like telling you about the cold of space, or the terror of midnight. Sithis is all those things. He is… the Void." He finishes in a chilling whisper.
The growl stirs a long-buried memory. I force it aside as his clownish grin returns and he looks at me expectantly. "Have we met?"
"Of course, of course!" He claps his hands. "Cicero would never ever forget you."
My lungs seize up. If he's thinking the same thing I am...
"We met on the road! Did you forget? You helped me with my damnedest wagon wheel!"
My breath returns and I manage to disguise my sigh of relief. "Ah, of course. Silly of me to ask."
"Oh, oh! Shall Cicero have a name to call the lovely Breton by? One as pretty as you, perhaps?" He gives me the biggest smile yet, a charming one at that, and he removes his glove and extends his hand for a proper greeting.
I return the smile, albeit a bit less sincerely. "Flattery won't be necessary." I hold out my hand as well. "You may call me Camille."
"Oh, it does suit you!" He shakes my hand and holds it gingerly. "So elegant and upright. The Fool of Hearts is pleased to make you acquaintance." He gives me a little bow after releasing my fingers.
Hearts? Of all the suits, that's the one he chose… I glance away and subtly brush my fingers against my clothes. "This has been fascinating, but I have a new contract to see to."
His smile shrinks a bit, but then it springs right back again. "Until next time, Camille! Cicero awaits it eagerly!" He replies, turning back to the box and beginning to open it up.
When I turn in my contracts, Nazir congratulates me in his typical, condescending way. Not willing to engage in sarcastic banter with him, I walk to my quiet place: the wooden chair beside Babette's alchemy supplies. She often reminds me of myself when I was young.
I watch Babette's motions as she crushes the petals of a nightshade flower. Her tiny hands look so strange handling such a deadly ingredient. She glances at me expectantly, and I pose her a question. "What do you think about Cicero and the Night Mother?"
She sighs. "Two hundred years ago, I would have lain down my life for the Unholy Matron. But that age has long since passed. Astrid is my matron now." She says. "But the jester… I haven't spoken to him beyond the few moments after he came inside. He seems… unstable."
"He's more than he appears." I remark, slowly kicking my feet back and forth. "But I don't quite know what I think of him yet."
"Well, maybe when you get back from your contract, you can speak with him more." Babette suggests, mixing the nightshade with a nirnroot.
"I'd like to stay now, but I have to leave within the hour. I swear, if I ever got a day to myself, half of Skyrim would fall off the world."
Babette laughs, one of the few times when she sounds truly childlike. "Well, have fun," she instructs, smiling at me. "It isn't worth it if you don't enjoy it."
A.N.: Another "new old" chapter. Please don't hesitate to leave me a review or send me a message. I read and reply to all of them, and they help me so much.
A huge thank-you to J. APPLEGATE for reviewing since my last update, and pointing out that this chapter was originally posted in HTML code. I swear, this site drives me crazy sometimes. To thank him for helping to get you a readable chapter, go check out his amazing Skyrim fic, "The Nerevarine's Return." I also happen to beta-read it. Chapter 48 and onward are where I've helped out.
-Gairi
