Chapter Seven
I was given three contracts. Nazir told me what I had to know in order to find them. As soon as I had acquired some new weapons, retrieved my horse after pickpocketing a few wealthier individuals, and obtained some supplies, I was off.
The first was for an individual by the name of Narfi in Ivarstead. My stomach clenched tighter with every step towards Riften, but I was limited with choices. Fortunately, I could keep to the wilderness and avoid the larger cities. I moved like a hunted animal, paranoid of every sound. My only consolation was that, if I completed these tasks, I'd have a warm and safe bed.
Narfi was a paranoid old man, living in a ruined building. The entire business was perfectly discreet and he wouldn't be missed. It took one arrow to bring him down.
My second contract was even further away, a woman, Beitild, located in Dawnstar. I struggled against the heavy snowfall. The wind was bitterly cold, fatigue settled into my bones and my wound was once again screaming. Karliah may have stabilised me, but she was not a practiced healer and her poison was beyond her full expertise. Whilst I was now unlikely to acquire a serious infection, there was still an impressive scar and bruising. The poison had marred my skin and every once in a while, particularly after a significant amount of movement, the burning returned with vengeance. I gasped like a suffocating fish, but I kept moving and cast a small heat charm to give me some comfort.
She was a stubborn and arrogant woman, so I doubted whether she would truly be mourned by her community. I knew she was my mark when someone called her name. Like the first, she was a fairly solitary creature and it was only a matter of time before she was alone. She also went down with one arrow.
The final contract was close to Windhelm, by a mill, for a man named, Ennodius Papius. He was also living alone and there was no mistaking his identity. As it was nightfall, I found him sleeping in his makeshift tent. One quick movement of my dagger ended his life.
I wanted to return as quickly as possible, hoping to demonstrate my efficiency and worth, but I was hindered by my own body. I had to rest longer than I would have liked, taking more and more stops along the way. Perhaps any semblance of my worth was coming to an end. However, I eventually returned to the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary, and only three days later than expected.
Like when I first arrived, I could hear the sounds of an enthusiastic conversation coming from the main room. Instead of that excitable Argonian or the vampire child, this voice was even stranger, rising and falling in the most peculiar way.
I gritted my teeth and stood a little straighter to mask my discomfort. I walked towards the group, who were crowded around a very odd individual. I recognised his attire from my youth, but it had been many years since I'd last seen a jester. However, whilst he may have been dressed as a fool, the careful way he stood, poised for sudden movement like the other assassins, told me that he was more than what he appeared to be. He seemed almost familiar, and a part of me felt I should recognise him, but my memory struggled.
"But the Night Mother is mother to all! It is her voice we follow. Her will! Would you dare risk disobedience?" The mysterious male said. His voice then became chilling. "And surely . . . punishment."
"Keep talking, little man, and we'll see who gets punished" Arnbjorn threatened.
"Oh, be quiet you great lumbering lapdog. The man has had a long journey. You can at least be civil." Festus' stern expression then softened as he turned to the odd fellow. "Mister Cicero, I for one am delighted that 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," Cicero praised. "Sure to earn our Lady's favour."
Astrid then intervened, giving a familiar courteous smile that hid what she was actually thinking. "You and the Nightmother are of course welcome here, Cicero. And you will be afforded the respect deserving of your position as Keeper." She then talked to the towering pillar of muscle and wet dog smell. "Understood . . . husband?" He gave a low growl in response.
"Oh, yes, yes, yes! Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," the jester said with increasing excitement.
"But make no mistake. I am the leader of this Sanctuary. My word is law. Are we clear on that point?" Astrid told him. Her voice was firm, brimming with authority. Cicero shifted position, his hands curled into loose fists as they sat on his hip.
"Oh yes, mistress. Perfectly! You're the boss," he grinned as he responded. I wondered briefly if he was genuinely that humble or simply humouring the woman. Astrid nodded once before turning away from him and striding over towards me.
"Ah, there you are. Good, I was done speaking with that muttering fool anyway. We've got some business to discuss," Astrid said when out of Cicero's earshot.
"I'm guessing that you have a contract," I said.
"Indeed I do. You must go to the city of Markarth, and speak with the apothecary's assistant. You'll probably find her in the Hag's Cure, when the shop is open. The girl has been running her mouth and 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."
"Anything else?" I asked, feeling more like a servant. Perhaps I was just trying to find faults, or perhaps persistent pain was affecting my mood. I may also have been uncomfortable with the notion that my position, after years of work, was back to that of a newcomer and with the grunt work that entailed.
"Just do whatever the contact wishes. Be professional, represent us well, and get the job done." Yes, I was definitely a servant. I tried not to show my annoyance. I nodded once and left. I needed to find Nazir to complete the other contracts. Then, I would rest.
"Oh, yes, mistress. You're the boss. For now," Cicero muttered the last words as I walked by him.
"Wait, oh wait! I know you! Yes, yes. From the road! Cicero never forgets a face."
It was then that I recognised him. I had passed him shortly after my drunken adventure with Sam Guevenne. I was still confused by the entire experience and so I must have pushed my meeting with Cicero to the back of my mind. He was just another strange sight amongst many. That had been over a month ago, though. I suspected then that the jester had encountered more troubles other than the difficulties of transporting a heavy piece of cargo alone, or that he may have gone elsewhere briefly before finding the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. Otherwise, it would not have taken him such a long time.
"You were the man with the broken wheel, trying to transport your . . . mother," I said.
"I am! I am! But not just my mother. Our mother, hmm? The Night Mother! Oh yes! And you helped me! You helped poor 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."
"The stupid guard came whilst Loreius was fixing the wheel. He wanted to know what was in the cart. He said I stole something! Me! Poor Cicero. A common thief. The very thought is insulting. One might even say... maddening. Luckily, he went away after a little persuasion. It might have become ugly otherwise," the jester told me. I had the impression that he was aware of his mental state.
I felt a nerve twitch under my eye, insulted for his opinion on thieves. At the heart of it, I was still a thief and had trained endlessly to perfect my profession. I could understand a law abiding citizen scolding my activities, but not from one who also took coin from nefarious deeds. I believed that there was more skill in merging with the shadows than simply slaughtering what came across my path.
I looked at the fool, who seemed confused by my sudden shift in character. "Yes, lucky for you. Good day, Cicero," I said and walked over towards the small vampire child.
"Babette, is it?" I greeted her.
"Yes, it is. You must be the new recruit! Peregrine, is it?" she asked. Whilst I could hear a child's voice, the pronunciation of her words was sophisticated and like that of an adult. She spoke nicely, but at the same time I found it disconcerting. Fortunately, despite her eerie gaze, her smile was genuine and pleasant.
"Please, call me Grin," I said.
"Grin? What a strange name," she commented.
"It has been noted that I often find humour, even when I'd prefer to find a hot meal instead, and so it became an appropriate nickname," I told her.
"Yet, you seem quite serious, perhaps stoic," she then smiled. It wasn't a cruel expression, but I felt as though she saw more than she was revealing.
"It has been a troubling couple of months. Perhaps I've found it harder to see the funny side of things because of it," I then sighed.
"Good thing we're not in short supply of funny characters," the Argonian said as he sat down beside the vampire. "I am Veezara, and you must be the new recruit," he said.
"This is Grin," Babette informed him. "I don't know what to think of that jester. I think he's probably quite astute to have remained the Keeper for so long and with the Brotherhood's continued destruction."
"I've heard rumours that the Dark Brotherhood is steadily being wiped out. Some even claim that you're all just an old legend and there's no such thing," I told them.
"Which is why the more members we have the merrier," Babette chimed in.
"No, no more merriness," Arnbjorn said as he passed, casting a disgruntled look at the jester who was singing to himself as he checked over the coffin.
"What made you want to join our little family then?" Veezara asked conversationally. The honest truth was simply desperation.
"I suppose I wanted to find something new and interesting. This just seemed . . . right. We all have a calling, I followed mine," I lied. I most certainly did not want to do anything new and interesting. I had been content. I was also sure that my calling was not to dispose of one annoying noble because another was throwing a tantrum. The Argonian nodded. "What about you?" I openly asked.
"I am Shadowscale," answered Veezara. "I was, quite literally, born to kill." To be honest, I didn't quite understand what the Argonian meant, but I nodded all the same so as not to appear ignorant. I then turned to the small vampire.
"There are not many communities that would welcome a small and unchanging child. Surviving like an animal in caves and forests never held much appeal. Families notice after a while if you manage to get adopted. I would rather kill than be killed. With my innocent looks, they never suspect a thing," Babette finished with a delighted smile. I could see her point. Whilst some vampires could live on the fringe of society, being a small immortal child would probably garner more attention.
I sat and spoke to the pair for a while. Like Nazir, they were both sharp and looked at me with intelligent eyes. I'd have to be very careful. I may have bitten off more than I could chew. I was relieved when the Argonian pulled out a pack of cards. It gave my hands something to do and my mind a few extra seconds to think. All I had to do was to pretend I was contemplating my next move, which, to a large extent, was the truth.
Babette was especially curious to find out about my past. I agreed to discuss some details on the condition that I was to be given the same liberty with her. She was incredibly open, as well as incredibly old. When she told me she was over three hundred years old I had to expend some effort to control my expression.
I bluntly asked her what she already knew about my life and then filled in some of the spaces.
"Well, I was with a group of hunters for three years before I became a student at the college of Winterhold. After that time I needed coin and after multiple unsuccessful attempts at obtaining a job I turned to crime. What can I say, I was desperate and I already had some of the skills necessary for the profession. With time I got better, and eventually I was noticed by the Thieves Guild. They took me in." It was then that I began to embellish my story. Of course, I kept it as simple as possible. That was the trick for a well-crafted lie. "Unfortunately, my heart was not in it. I knew I was meant for something else. Just as well, I was in Winterhold when I came across your contract and saw to it. It was, to say the least, invigorating. After that, to cut a long story short, I was betrayed by an associate and was left for dead. Surviving that encounter, I cut my losses and decided to follow what I felt was more my calling." What I left out was that I was betrayed by the head of the Thieves Guild and that, if he realised that I wasn't dead, would then want me dead. I was actually just a coward in hiding, fearing that the whole Guild might be against me because anything that was a threat to Mercer ought to be destroyed. Whether the Guild knew about Mercer's schemes was another matter, but either way I didn't like my chances.
"Yet, you sound so calm. If it were me, I'd want revenge for ever crossing me," Babette said plainly.
"Yes, the perks of this career is that you learn the skills to be able to dispose of anyone who . . . someone you'd much rather weren't alive," Veezara added.
"I did think about revenge," I said. In reality, I hadn't. My only thought was of escape and safety. "Unfortunately, I didn't come out of that encounter in one piece, as they say. Unless I recover, I'd be slaughtered because the gap between us is too large."
"I thought I smelled blood on you," Babette informed me. "Festus should be able to help with that. He's good at putting everyone back together again, although we take some pride in not having to rely on his skills too often. I'm sure, if you required assistance, any one of us would help you in your mission. Certain individuals are better dead, especially when they choose to cross the Dark Brotherhood."
"Thank you. I'll try and introduce myself to Festus when I can. For now, I think I need to rest. I'm going to collapse soon," I said.
"Sleep well," the vampire responded.
"Pleasant dreams," Veezara said.
My bed was situated in a large room. Each member had their own small section for personal belongings, but like the Thieves Guild it was primarily communal. Whilst I did wish for some privacy, I preferred to have a whole group of trained ears listening for any unwelcome surprises. My nightmares had increased, and with it my paranoia. Mercer was in every dark corner, draugr were under all the beds and bears were lurking at the end of long corridors.
"Peregrine, was it?" came a voice. I visibly jolted, imagining Mercer springing forward to grab me. I turned to find Cicero staring at me, his expression shifting briefly to one of confusion. "Although Cicero heard, though he didn't mean to pry, that the newcomer prefers to be called Grin."
"Yes, I prefer to be called Grin. What can I help you with, Keeper," I told him bluntly.
"And yet, dear Grin does not grin. Cicero would be better suited for the name. Ah, but then who would you be? Would you be Cicero? Of course not, because there is only one Cicero and that is me. There is only one you and one me and we must be ourselves," Cicero finally concluded. I blinked several times, trying to understand where his thoughts were going, or coming from.
"Yes, I'm rather tapped out when it comes to comedy value. Once again, how may I help you?"
I made a move to grab my side, as though the pain could be stopped if I simply held everything in place. I needed to reduce the strain on my body, which was currently being caused from simply standing.
"You are hurt!" Cicero cried out, although he seemed more surprised than concerned or worried. I closed my eyes for a second, taking a deep breath.
"Yes, so I'd prefer not having to stand for much longer," I stated. Cicero then stepped aside before grabbing my forearm on my uninjured side and pulling me towards my bed. He lightly pushed my shoulder, indicating I should sit down. I did not need to be told twice and sighed as the material sunk beneath me.
"Cicero will return in a moment," and the jester was off. Whilst he was away I began to unbuckle some of the straps of my armour.
"Here! I have found it," Cicero said as he strode back over towards me. "This is has kept poor Cicero together on many occasions."
"Will it work on injuries from poisoned arrows?" I asked, looking sceptically at the amber paste.
"Either way, you won't be in pain. It'll either help heal you or kill you. You won't have to be worried about it getting all infected and diseased." I looked at him with wide eyes. "Cicero would have thought that The Grinning One would be able to take a joke. Unlike most things in our wonderful home, this will not kill you."
"I suppose I should thank you then," I said. I knew I needed to treat it, as Karliah had only done so much, so I did appreciate being given something for it. However, whether it worked or not would be another issue.
"Ah, yes! Cicero came for a reason but was then distracted. Did I offend The Grinning One?" he asked. I had noticed that my name was transformed in the duration of one conversation. I suppose I could live with being called The Grinning One, there were worse alternatives.
"Pardon?"
"Earlier, earlier!" Cicero exclaimed as though that explained it. "Looking so venomous at poor Cicero. Did I offend The Grinning One so greatly? Walking off without another word and leaving to wonder. Wonder if Cicero was rude to our newest family member."
"It doesn't matter," I said.
"Of course it matters! If Cicero has offended you . . .please tell me what has troubled The Grinning One."
"Just call me Grin, it is shorter."
"Yes, I will call – Grin what Grin wants. Now will Grin tell me what Cicero has done?"
"This is getting tiring. Fine, Keeper," I growled out his title. "Your opinion on thieves does not sit well with me. Are you satisfied?"
"Why? Grin is an assassin and not a thief," Cicero responded.
"I was a thief for several years. I am still very much a thief and most of my skills we acquired through being a thief."
Cicero paused for a moment, and I could have sworn I saw a calculative spark in those redwood eyes. It was like the madness had receded just for a moment, or perhaps it was the intelligence concealed by insanity becoming visible. Either way, it was gone before I could even fully realise its presence. Perhaps I had imagined it.
"Then Cicero will re-evaluate his perception of thieves since one of our own has come from such a place. Cicero just gets irritable that all of our occupations are so readily mixed together, comparing plundering bandits to professionals with contracts. Injustice!"
"Thieves are not like bandits. We also have contracts at times," I told him bluntly.
"Oh, no, that's not what Cicero meant," he said as he waved his hands in front of me. "I was not comparing thieves to bandits. No, no, no, didn't you hear Cicero say he didn't like everyone being thrown together. We are all different and Cicero apologises for old prejudices unwittingly causing offense."
I nodded before stifling a yawn. "I understand, apology accepted."
"Few understand Cicero. Time is trickling away and Grin should be sleeping and healing. Goodnight," he finally said before springing back several steps. He then turned, and with a final wave, strode out of the room. I could hear him humming down the halls.
Despite the fatigue, I managed to change into some loose garments. The room was lit by what appeared to be mage light. With a wave of my hands, the glowing spheres were extinguished and I was left in the quiet gloom. Voices trickled in, but my head was heavy and all I could think of was sleep. However, before I lost consciousness, I couldn't help but think of the strange jester.
