Chapter Summary

The newly constituted Dark Brotherhood of Blades is coming together nicely with its first real recruit and the beginnings of a dragon hunting plan. However, an investigatory field trip to Kynesgrove leaves them all none the wiser. While Delphine heads off to plan their next move, Cicero and Eola find themselves at a loose end...

Chapter 4: A Blade in the Dark

It was late when Delphine finally made it back to the Sleeping Giant. Midnight, and Sven was packing up his lute, while the last of the inn's patrons filed out, even Embry the town drunk. Orgnar was wiping down tankards, preparing to close up for the night.

"Hey Orgnar," Delphine called. "Cicero back in yet?"

Orgnar grunted in affirmation. "Hiding out in your room, Delphine. Brought some girl with him, blonde, Breton, could be your daughter if you'd ever bothered to have kids. Say, Delphine, are any more waifs and strays likely to be showing up with him? Cause it's getting to the stage we're running out of places for them to sleep. They're taking up beds I could be selling to paying customers. Costing a fair bit to feed 'em too."

"I know," sighed Delphine. "I am working on it, I promise. I've come into some cash, and hopefully soon I'll have another, safer place to move them all to. But for now, let me know how much they're costing, I can reimburse you. And if any travellers come in wanting a bed and there's not one free, let me know, I can move someone around. We've got some spare bed rolls, right?"

"A few," Orgnar muttered. "They can't stay here forever though, Delphine."

Delphine promised him that wouldn't be the case, but inside she felt far from certain. At least Cicero was quite content with a bed roll in her secret cellar, in front of the Night Mother. Where she was going to put the newest recruit was anyone's guess, and if she was honest, Orgnar's description of her as a younger, prettier version of Delphine herself had unsettled her a little. Taking a deep breath, she slipped into her room, secured the door and made her way into the cellar.

Cicero was already there, candles lit and the Night Mother on display. He was sitting cross-legged in front of her, explaining the Night Mother's life story and history and impressing on whoever was listening how she was their Mother and must always be treated with nothing less than the utmost devotion and respect.

"My heart belongs to Lady Namira, as you know," a female voice responded, accent not far different to Delphine's own. "But I can be perfectly respectful to other gods. Tell me, when she killed the children Sithis gave her, did she eat their flesh afterwards?"

Delphine hadn't expected that question, and the ghoulish pleasure in the girl's voice gave her pause as she wondered just what Cicero had recruited. Still, they were a society of professional murderers. Expecting them to attract the sane and well-adjusted might be a little optimistic.

"Cicero does not think Dark Brotherhood history recorded that," Cicero replied and to his credit, even he sounded a little unnerved. "But I am sure she would have done had she believed Sithis desired it."

The new recruit laughed with delight. "Nice answer, Champ. I'm impressed. And she really talks?"

"She does," Cicero confirmed. "But only to our mighty Listener, Delphine of the Blades. Delphine hears the Mother's voice and passes her orders on to us. You will like Delphine. Delphine is blessed by Sithis, as terrible as she is beautiful. Delphine is Eldest Sister, First among the Brotherhood, and her word is law to us. She is to be feared and loved like the Night Mother."

Which was all very flattering, but Delphine could not in all honesty let this particular line of conversation continue without intervening personally.

"He doesn't lie," said Delphine, stepping into the light. "But Cicero does have a bit of a tendency to exaggerate. My name's Delphine, I am the Listener, but as for fear and love, I'll settle for discretion, loyalty and doing what you're told."

"LISTENER!" Cicero shrieked, scrambling to his feet and launching himself at her. Before Delphine had time to react, Cicero had wrapped himself around her, head resting on her shoulder as he set about attempting to hug the life out of her. "Listener, Listener, Cicero has missed you so much, my Listener, Cicero was worried when he returned first, in case the nasty Thieves Guild had got to you."

"It's good to see you again too, Cicero," said Delphine, finding herself unable to stop smiling as she put her arms around Cicero and a feeling of being home settled deep into her bones. "And I see your mission was successful. Going to introduce me to our new recruit?"

"Yes, yes, of course," said Cicero, releasing her and bounding over to the other woman's side. "Eola, this is Delphine, our Listener to the Unholy Matron's words. Listener, this... this is Eola. She has not worked as an assassin before, but she is skilled with magic and swordcraft, and she's a worshipper of the Daedric Prince Namira, whose rites regularly required wielding knives against the unworthy."

"Namira found them worthy enough after we'd killed them," Eola grinned, stepping forward with her hand outstretched. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Cicero's talked about you non-stop all the way from Markarth."

"Likewise," said Delphine, eyeing up the younger woman as she shook hands. She had to admit, she was impressed, and Orgnar hadn't been wrong about the resemblance either. This one was strong, confident... and a potential leader. One to watch, clearly. Delphine was just rather glad that being Listener was not something one achieved merely by murdering the previous incumbent. "Did you say you were a Namira worshipper? Cicero, is that... allowed?"

Cicero nodded happily. "Sithis is not a jealous god, my Delphine. Many of my former Dunmer brothers and sisters still worshipped Boethiah and Azura on the side, and we had a few Sanguine and Dibella devotees. As long as they served Sithis by their deeds, the Brotherhood was content. Which also means, my Listener, you do not need to keep hiding your amulet of Talos whenever you think I'm looking."

"I do not keep hiding-" Delphine started, then gave up on remembering that she had been doing exactly that. "So, Eola, how exactly did Cicero find you? The Night Mother wasn't terribly specific, and she certainly never mentioned a Namira cult. Don't the rites of Namira involve desecrating corpses?"

"Depends on how you define desecration," Eola shrugged. "The priests of Arkay would call it that. So do most people, actually, but most people are fools. Doesn't matter though, Namira knows her own. When we were driven from our shrine by Draugr, I took refuge in the Hall of the Dead in Markarth, which is where Cicero found me. I could tell from the start he wasn't like the rest of them. I see the dead and my mouth grows wet – he sees the living and imagines them as corpses. You can see how we complement each other nicely."

A bit too nicely for Delphine's liking but she nodded at Eola and indicated for her to go on.

"So we talked and we made a bargain," Eola continued. "If he helped retake our shrine and rededicate it to Namira, I'd join the Brotherhood. Delphine, he did more than help, Namira was so pleased with him that after the rites were done, she gave him her Ring and named him her Champion. After that, how could I not follow where he led? I'll follow Namira's Keeper of the Ring, and he seems to follow you. If that means working for you, I'll gladly do it." Eola tilted her head to one side. "You know, you're a lot more down to earth than he made out. Cicero talked like you were some kind of goddess, or insane mystic living half in another world, but you're actually quite sane and practical."

"One of us has to be," said Delphine dryly. "As I said, Cicero does take his devotion to the Night Mother very seriously and that has a tendency to colour his vision a little. Glad to have you aboard, Eola."

"Glad to be here. I just have one question – am I allowed to dedicate my kills to Namira?" Eola asked.

"Dedicate them to Namira how?" Delphine asked warily, glancing at Cicero who was standing quietly in a corner, head bowed and hands behind his back.

"Eola wishes to know if she can feast on the flesh of the dead after she has killed them," said Cicero softly, not even looking in Delphine's direction. Delphine, her fears confirmed, fought back a wave of nausea, before turning back to Eola.

"I won't lie to you, it won't always be possible," said Delphine, wondering, not for the first time, just how her life had come to this. "Sometimes the client has specific requests about how the kill is to be carried out, or how the body is found, and those times, you won't have much of a choice. Mostly though, we just want them dead and we won't care how you do it. Which means if you want to, and stopping to eat isn't going to mean you get caught... go ahead."

Eola practically bounced on the spot. "Yes! Thank you! I promise you, I will be the best assassin ever. Well, apart from the Champion here," she added after Cicero coughed rather pointedly.

"I'm sure you will," said Delphine. "Why don't you head on upstairs and get some sleep? Take the room across the inn, I think they're both empty."

After Eola had gone, Delphine turned to Cicero, arms folded.

"These rites of Namira she made you take part in. Did you at any point have to eat part of a dead body?"

Cicero hesitated, before it burst out of him in a plaintive wail.

"It was for the Night Mother!" Cicero cried. "Cicero is very sorry, and hopes Delphine will forgive him and not hold it against him. Cicero has no intention of doing it again. Cicero belongs to Sithis and the Night Mother... and to the Night Mother's true Listener. Cicero did it for the Night Mother... but if it means Delphine finds him repulsive now, Cicero... regrets it deeply." His voice cracked a little, and Delphine felt her heart go out to the little jester as he wiped a tear away. By all rights, she should be recoiling in disgust, and if she was honest, part of her was. He was still very much her Dragonborn though, and really it was frightening how it wasn't putting her off. The man had balls, she had to give him that. Not many would have nibbled on a body to get the job done.

"Come here," said Delphine gently, holding out her arms to him. Sniffling, Cicero stepped forward and let himself be cuddled. "I'm impressed by your willingness to see your mission through, and I'm touched by your loyalty. Here, for you, seeing as it turns out you know about it after all." She reached for her amulet of Talos and draped it around Cicero's neck. Cicero stared at it, speechless.

"Talos is the Dragonborn who founded an Empire and became a god," said Delphine. "All the Blades revered him, it's why the Thalmor hated us so. I'm not expecting you to live up to that standard, but you could do worse than to pray to him for victory against the dragons. Not sure how Talos feels about the Dark Brotherhood, he had a warrior's honour after all. But if you stay strong and keep fighting, he'll protect you, Dragonborn. Also, that amulet is just an amulet to an ordinary man or woman, but to a Dragonborn? It's a source of power, letting you Shout more often. I think you could use that."

Cicero looked like he was about to cry again. "Delphine mustn't... she shouldn't! This is her tie to her god, Cicero cannot take it from her, not when he's not even a Talos worshipper."

"That's just it, Cicero, you don't have to worship him!" Delphine sighed. "You and he, you're brother Dragonborns! You fight dragons, he gives you power to do it. You should have this. I want you to have it. I can't have my Dragonborn going into battle without Talos' protection, it wouldn't be right. And there will be battle soon, Cicero. Count on it."

Cicero fingered the amulet, before looking up at Delphine, a cruel smile forming on his face.

"Cicero thanks Delphine then. Cicero shall wear it with pride and use it well. When he fights and kills, he shall think of her generosity and dedicate his kills to his dearest Listener. Send your Cicero into battle – he shall lay dragon corpses at your feet and build you a throne of dragon bone."

"Add in a few Thalmor as well and you got yourself a deal, Dragonborn," Delphine laughed, stroking his face and feeling a rush of pride. Hers, he was hers, insane and broken maybe, but lethal and strong regardless, and together they could slaughter them all, dragon and Thalmor alike, and dance together in the blood afterwards, and he would not run from her darkness in fear, but share in it joyfully. In that moment, she knew she'd chosen the right one.

"Get some sleep, Cicero," she told him. "Tomorrow, we make plans, and we'll be on the road soon enough. But for now, rest. You have more than earned it."

Cicero hugged her again, and tumbled into his little bedroll after blowing out the candles near the Night Mother. Delphine took care of the rest, and shot him one last look before heading up the stairs. He was watching her go, a smile on his face that spoke of happiness and cruelty in equal measure. Delphine took its memory away with her, certain she would dream of both love and blood that night. She was right.

The following day found Eola and Cicero sitting at the table in Delphine's cellar room, having breakfast while Delphine outlined their next move. Cicero was nibbling on a sweetroll while Eola was cheerfully cracking open a set of ribs and devouring the marrow. Delphine could only be thankful that Orgnar had assured her the ribs definitely came from a cow. Running a Dark Brotherhood cell from a simple country inn was one thing, but Delphine wasn't sure she could live with herself if villagers started to go missing. Fortunately Eola seemed content to dine on animals... for now.

"So," Delphine began, "first thing you've got to understand is that before the Night Mother called me as Listener, I was a Blade, and have been since I was about twenty. Was in the Imperial Legion before that – joined them at age 16 as a raw recruit."

"The Blades, weren't they some sort of Imperial spy network?" Eola asked. "Thought they were disbanded years ago."

"We were," said Delphine. "But we kept going in secret, even while the Thalmor hunted us. I stayed on the move, kept hiding, avoided tracking down any other Blades, and now I've lost all contact. Most of the ones I knew that survived the war were older than me, they're probably all dead by now anyway. As far as I know, I'm the last. But we were more than spies and bodyguards. We're an ancient order of dragonslayers, and we're sworn to find, guard and protect the ultimate dragonslayers – the Dragonborns."

Eola's eyes widened. "The Dragonborn – I've heard of him. They say one's been called to High Hrothgar for the first time since ever – is that true?"

Delphine nodded, indicating Cicero, who had gone as scarlet as his outfit and was staring at his sweetroll. "You're sitting next to him."

"Get out of here – you're telling me he's not just Namira's Chosen and the Dark Brotherhood's finest, he's a Dragonborn as well? He eats dragon souls when they die?" Eola looked at Cicero, new respect in her eyes. "Didn't think anyone could eat a dragon, there's nothing but charred bones left when they die. Eating its soul though, that's impressive."

"Cicero does not exactly eat it," Cicero muttered. "Cicero just... absorbs it."

"And you're likely to get to see him in action soon enough," Delphine promised. "But back to business. Cicero had just been called as Dragonborn when I met him – that's how we ended up working together. I'm a Blade and I swore to protect and guide the Dragonborn – any Dragonborn. So I took him under my wing. Then I met the Night Mother... and she named me Listener. Now I guess the Blades and Brotherhood have merged, which means we've got two missions – carry out contracts that the Night Mother gives us... and in between times, investigate why dragons are coming back and stopping them whenever we can. We've got one big contract on the go at the moment, which I'll come on to a bit later, but right now, I want to focus on dragons. The Night Mother's told me that if we follow the dragons, we'll get a proper headquarters out of it. I don't know how that'll happen, but she was right about finding you, so I'm inclined to trust her. So. Dragons."

"Dragons," Eola nodded, wiping her fingers on a napkin, the ribs finally well stripped of meat. "What do we know so far?"

"Not a lot," Delphine admitted. "But I have a couple of leads. First is this map." She indicated the map of Skyrim spread out before her, with dots marked all over it, some crossed out, and one just south of Windhelm with a circle drawn round it. Cicero and Eola both peered at it, curious.

"Cicero is wondering what the dots are for," said Cicero, tracing one of them. "They are not towns, surely? Skyrim does not have so many."

"Are they dragon attacks?" Eola asked, frowning. "But why are some crossed off?"

"Close," said Delphine, impressed with the younger woman's perceptiveness. "They're dragon burial mounds. You see, dragons weren't gone somewhere all these years, they were dead. The ancient Nords and the original Blades killed them, and this is where they were buried. They're not just coming back, they are coming back to life." Delphine paused for dramatic effect to let that sink in. Both of her comrades looked suitably appalled.

"Dragon necromancy? Who would do such a thing? Who could do such a thing?" Eola whispered.

"Cicero does not know, but Cicero does not approve," said Cicero, thin-lipped. "Dead should stay dead. Coming back to life is against everything the Brotherhood stands for."

"When it comes to dragons, most would agree with you," said Delphine. "I don't know who might be behind this exactly, but my gut tells me it's the Thalmor. They've got plenty of wizards who might be able to resurrect a dragon, and they've got the motive too. Think about where the first one attacked – Helgen, right as they were about to execute Ulfric Stormcloak. The war was virtually over – with Ulfric dead, the rebellion would have fizzled out and the rebel Jarls would have gone back to the Empire. Then the dragon turns up, Ulfric escapes and the war's back on. Who else gains from that but the Thalmor?"

"Would Delphine like her Cicero to break in to the Thalmor Embassy and kill them all?" Cicero asked, fingering his dagger. "Cicero would not find it any trouble, Cicero assures her."

"Hmm, Altmer," Eola murmured. "I've not had Altmer in ages. So tender, like chicken except golden and so sweet and juicy. Goes nicely with Alto wine, I must make sure to take a bottle with me."

"Both of you, be patient, all in good time!" said Delphine, pleased by their enthusiasm but wishing it could take a slightly less bloodthirsty tone. "You can't just walk into the Thalmor Embassy, the place is locked up tight. That's something I'll need to think about. First though, we need to find out if it is actually them raising dragons." She jabbed the map again. "That's where we're in luck. There's a pattern to the mounds. It's starting from the south-east, near Riften, and it's spreading out from there. Looking at the ones that have been opened so far, I've worked out where the next will happen." She indicated the circled dot. "Kynesgrove, just outside Windhelm. That's where we're going today. If we're lucky, we might be able to stop it happening."

"Stop it happening," Cicero hissed, eyes narrowing. "Kill nasty Thalmor Elves before they can let the dragon loose, yes!"

"Mmm, roast Elf," said Eola dreamily. "With a pinch of salt and a bit of lavender, I think. All that magicka in the meat, offset by the magic resistance in the lavender – marvellous!"

"Kynesgrove," said Delphine firmly, rolling up the map. "Dragon. We're going to watch and learn, and before it rises, we're going to kill it and whoever fool's decided to raise the damn thing. Get your things together, my assassins. We've got some killing to do."

That met with squeals of approval as her protégées swung into action. Delphine smiled as she reached for her own weapons and armour. Yes, the gods might have landed her with a psychotic murdering jester with mother issues, and a Daedra-worshipping cannibal... but in all honesty, Delphine had worked with worse. That dragon wouldn't know what had hit it.

Delphine crouched behind a rock, flinching as the biggest dragon she'd ever seen hovered above, the sweep of its wings causing mini-gales that could easily send someone sprawling if they weren't careful. Eola was crouching next to the rock opposite, blue mage armour outlining her and spells in hand. Behind her, Cicero had his bow at the ready, taking careful aim at the black dragon. It was saying something in that harsh language of theirs, but Delphine had no idea what. Dark magic was pouring off the mound, a column of viciously spiralling light firing upwards into the sky.

"Slen Tiid Vo," the dragon snarled, and the mound exploded. Delphine ducked, pulling Cicero down with her to avoid the stone flying everywhere. She heard Eola cry out, and looked up to see the other woman staring at the mound, horrified. She followed her gaze and felt herself grow cold as she watched a dragon skeleton crawl out of the grave, light and fire blazing along it as its flesh began to regrow.

"Wrong, wrong!" Cicero muttered, re-aiming, this time at the skeletal dragon. "Dead should stay dead!"

The black dragon had been talking while this was going on, before laughing and switching to Tamrielic.

"You do not even speak our tongue, do you?" it rasped. "So arrogant, to call yourself a Dovah when you have not even the power of the least of us. Little fool, you will soon learn your mistake. Sahloknir, krii daar joorre!" The black dragon flapped its wings and was gone... but the other one, Sahloknir, still remained. Not only did it remain, it was coming right for them.

"It shall be an honour to do my lord's will in this, Dovahkiin," Sahloknir growled. Delphine realised what he was about to do, and pushed Cicero to the ground, shielding him as a jet of flame roared over their heads. Eola meanwhile had summoned an Atronach and was now firing lightning at the dragon. With a roar, Sahloknir took to the air as Delphine and Cicero scrambled to their feet, both preparing their bows. Arrows flew and magic blazed, and the dragon swerved out of the way of both. Then it made the mistake of landing. Right next to Delphine.

"Protector of the Dovahkiin, you shall die first, while he watches!" Sahloknir hissed, preparing to breathe fire.

"I'll take you with me if you do, dragon!" Delphine snapped, drawing her sword. Before she could even strike a blow, Cicero had leapt as if from nowhere, pouncing on top of the dragon, grabbing it by the horns with one arm and slashing at it with a sword as it tried desperately to throw him off.

"Dragon will not hurt Delphine!" Cicero snarled, features locked in a rictus of rage. "Not... my... Del... phine!" Each syllable was punctuated by another stab wound. Delphine took full advantage. Running to the dragon's right and motioning for Eola to take the other side, she drew her sword down the dragon's flank, opening it up and nearly taking the wing off. Eola did likewise with her own blade and cast some frost magic at it for good measure. Between the three of them, it didn't take long. The dragon roared its last and collapsed, dead. Cicero rolled off it and looked up sharply, watching for his companions. On seeing Delphine, he rushed towards her and hugged her tightly.

"Delphine is safe?" he murmured.

"I'm fine," said Delphine. "Are you?"

"Dragon threatened to kill Delphine," Cicero scowled. "Cicero... Cicero does not like it when people do that, and so now the dragon is dead."

"Many people would like to see me dead," said Delphine. "No one's managed it yet, and I don't think that dragon would have done either. You don't need to worry about me, Cicero."

"Cicero knows he doesn't need to, but Cicero still does," said Cicero, eyes closed and head resting against her shoulder.

"That's very cute," Eola commented, arms folded as she watched, sly grin firmly in place. "I knew he had a thing for you, had no idea it was mutual."

"Don't you have corpses to go nibble on?" Delphine glared at her. Eola laughed, held up her hands and went in search of that dead town guard they'd seen earlier. As she left, the dragon's soul boiled up out of it and roared down into Cicero, who trembled in Delphine's arms under the impact.

"Not again, not again!" he whimpered. "This one doesn't just hate me, it's under orders to kill! Listener, Delphine, help me! It's burning me inside!"

"Cicero, stop it," Delphine shook him a little. "Stop it right now. You're Dragonborn and Sithis-blessed, you're more than a match for it!"

Cicero shook his head. "I can't. I'm sorry, I can't fight it, not this time. Cicero says to tell you goodbye and that he's always l-"

"Not another word, jester," Delphine hissed, losing patience and definitely not wanting to think about the slow welling-up of panic at the back of her mind. "You get back here right now!"

Cicero just wailed, eyes rolling upwards as he began to shudder and shake, a fit taking him. Delphine laid him on the ground, feeling the panic getting stronger. What if she couldn't help him this time? What then? What was a Blade without a Dragonborn, the Night Mother with no Keeper? She couldn't stop this alone. Feeling desperate, she reached for her amulet of Talos, only to remember she'd given it to Cicero. To Cicero...

Reaching inside his leather cuirass, she grabbed the amulet and clutched it tight.

"Talos Stormcrown, hear me now! I, Delphine of the Blades, invoke you and call you to the aid of your brother Dragonborn, Cicero the Keeper. Help him fight the dragon in his mind, help him and heal him, let him come into his own as Dragonborn. This I do ask you, in the name of Akatosh, of Kyne, of Mara, of Shor. Talos help me, may the Stormcrown come!"

Delphine was unprepared for the rush of power that shot down her spine and into her hand, causing her to drop the amulet in shock. The small axe was glowing as it fell back onto Cicero, and he screamed in pain as his entire body began to glow. Cicero thrashed around a few times, face twisted in agony, and then the light faded and he collapsed, breathing heavily and sweat coating him. But alive and calm, and Delphine could only hope his mind had also survived the encounter.

"Cicero?" she said, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. "Cicero, are you alright? Can you talk?"

Cicero, to her relief, squeezed back, eyes slowly opening. "Delphine?" he whispered.

"I'm here," Delphine reassured him. "What happened?"

"Cicero... is not sure. There was an angry dragon, and fire... and then this golden net trapped it, and a cage appeared, and it is in there now. Cicero does not think it can get out. Cicero... Cicero does not know how, but he thinks he knows how to capture them properly now. Did... did Delphine do that?"

Delphine helped him sit up, an arm around him. "Not me. Talos. I prayed for help, as a Blade, and he helped you. Through that amulet I gave you."

Cicero fingered it gently. "Then I will wear it always, in gratitude. It is very strange," he said, frowning. "Cicero's mind is so much calmer now. I do not – Cicero does not – the cage is slowing my thoughts down. So fast they were, so mutable, flowing from one thing to another. Now... now they are calmer. They do not shift into something else before Cicero can fully grasp them any more. Cicero..." Here he looked up at her, alarmed. "Is Cicero still Cicero like this?"

"You'll always be my Cicero," Delphine promised, smiling. "But it looks like Talos may have done a little more than just help you deal with dragon souls. Looks like he may have fixed your own up a little."

Cicero scowled at this. "Cicero did not ask for that! Cicero can still kill, yes? Cicero will still feel the joy as the blade sinks in and the blood pools out on the floor and the life... goes... out..." Cicero's eyes had glazed over and a dreamy little smile settled on his face.

"I think it's safe to say that you're still a murderous son of a Hagraven," said Delphine, getting to her feet and helping him do likewise. "Come on, let's find Eola."

Eola, when they found her, was merrily engaged in carving flesh off a charred guard. "One for the pouch, one for me. One for the pouch, one for me," she chanted as she alternated stashing some away for future consumption and wolfing down the rest. "Hey, my siblings in Sithis. Want some crackling? It's lovely and tender."

"I'm not hungry," said Delphine, truthfully enough as her appetite had a tendency to flee at the sight of blood and fat trickling down Eola's fingers as she ate.

"All the more for me," Eola grinned, wiping her fingers clean. "Everything alright? I heard shouting."

"Cicero occasionally has difficulty absorbing dragon souls, but I think we found a solution," said Delphine. "We should be fine now."

"Dragon burned, dragon dead, locked in a cage in Cicero's head," Cicero chanted. Clearly whatever Talos had done to the jester's mind, it hadn't taken away his love of rhyming couplets.

"Well, that's good, right?" said Eola. "But the black one got away, so how do we find that one? I tell you, I'm not sure I'd want to face it again."

"Nor I," said Delphine sombrely. "Dragons raising other dragons, it's far worse than I thought. But that still doesn't tell us where that black dragon came from. Damn it, we're stumbling around in the dark! We still don't know a thing! And now it turns out the Thalmor aren't even involved."

Eola's shoulders drooped. "No tasty Altmer flesh? That's a shame."

"Cicero could kill Thalmor for you anyway?" Cicero suggested. "Stab stab stab stab stab nasty Elves!" He did a little dance on the spot, miming stabbing a Thalmor. Delphine looked thoughtful.

"It's still a possibility. Maybe they're not involved but they might know who is. At any rate, it's our only lead. I'll need to think about how we're going to do this, talk to a few contacts, call in a few favours. It's not going to be easy, but there might be a way. Tell you what, you two head back to Riverwood. I'll meet you there in a few days, once I've had time to do some digging, and then we'll set our plans in motion. How does that sound?"

"Will you be gone long?" Cicero asked softly, looking a bit forlorn. Delphine felt her heart go out to him, but really, this was something best done alone. A simple reconnaissance mission, and one in which she didn't want any of her contacts scared off by Cicero.

"Not long," she promised. "Besides, if we both go, Eola might get lonely."

"I might?" Eola said before noticing the look Delphine gave her. "Oh! Yes, of course, you weren't thinking of leaving me on my own, I hope, Champion? I'll need an escort back to Riverwood, and it'll be a lot more fun with two of us."

"Fun, yes," Cicero sighed, before shrugging, giving Delphine a hug and bouncing over to Eola's side. "Cicero shall do as Delphine says and keep Eola company while Delphine does important work, yes he shall."

"Good, that's settled then. I'll see you both at home," said Delphine, and she was soon gone, taking the road north, leaving the two others behind.

"Cicero shall miss her," said Cicero sadly. Eola nudged him gently.

"Hey, Champion. She'll be fine, and it won't be long. In the mean time, looks like we have a week off. Wanna do some sightseeing? Kill a few people? Eat their flesh in the name of Namira?"

"Perhaps," said Cicero, brightening up at the prospect of a few kills. He glanced into the distance, where the cone of Bonestrewn Crest rose in the distance, the unmistakeable silhouette of a hovering dragon causing some indescribable thrill to run down his spine. "Want to take down another dragon?"

Eola's eyes lit up. "Oh yes. Let's kill someone," she breathed.