Morndas 20 Sun's Dawn 4E 202 6:30 PM

"Ow, ow, ow," I muttered. The Black Door to the Sanctuary was within sight. I never would have imagined that an ebony door dominated with a skull and bloody hand would be a welcome sight. I sighed in relief. Despite potions for the pain, my wrist hurt. I had also acquired a bruised tailbone, arrow wound on my left shoulder, scrapes on both shins, and a bruise on my right cheek.

My journey to Markarth had been uneventful. Muiri had requested for me to kill a bandit leader named Alain Dufont who was an ex-lover. Dufont was also a con man who had used Muiri to get closer to the Shatter-Shields after their daughter Friga had been murdered by a serial killer. He had wished to exploit them and steal their fortune that they had amassed from their shipping company.

Muiri had offered a bonus for killing the remaining daughter, Nilsine, but I had opted to refuse that contract. I felt Muiri's anger at the Shatter-Shields for rejecting her after being an unknowing pawn in Dufont's plan was an overreaction.

Destroying a bandit den was something I could feel good about. People who preyed on the weak deserved to get what they gave. Bandits, Forsworn, and vampires were always targets one could feel good about killing. They may have had the bodies of men, but they were monsters. Well, most vampires, I had to amend thinking of Babette.

Things had been going well enough initially. I had located Alain's base at Raldbthar, an old dwarf ruin west of Windhelm. I had snuck into the ruins carefully sniping lone bandits. My wrist had twinged but I hadn't felt any significant strain so I had continued onward.

I had found an upper balcony that overlooked where Dufont was meeting with his second-in-command and lieutenant. I knelt by an old dwarven ballista. I narrowed my vision until all I could see was my target. I drew in a deep breath, searching for the Void.

When I first trained in archery in Cyrodiil, my master had taught me that the best archers were able to use a technique called Find the Void. When finding your target you had to push out all the distractions of the world. The noise, the people, your hunger, that itch behind your knee. Anything except your target had to fade away into nothingness.

Alain was in my sights. I knew it would be a perfect shot. I pulled the string back to my ear and was about to release both my arrow and breath when my wrist suddenly exploded in pain. The arrow went wild, skidding on the ground by Alain's feet.

"Gods dammit," I yelled as two bandits ran up the stairs towards me. I couldn't shoot my bow again and with the stairs occupied it was likely that Dufont would get away. I glanced around searching for something that would help me. The ballista I was crouching by was loaded. Would it still work?

I grabbed the ballista and sent a prayer to Kynareth, goddess of air. To my surprise, the javelin sprung loose and fell through the air. It hit Alain directly in the chest sending him hurtling backwards. "Whoo hoo!"I screamed jumping in the air.

"You're dead!" the male bandit screamed as he charged me. I managed to fumble my dagger out of its sheath before he closed into melee. I brought up my blade in time to deflect his, but I was too off balance to stop him from punching me in the face.

I reeled back in pain. Stars filled my vision. I drew a deep breath and shouted, "FUS RO DAH!" throwing the man off his feet and off the balcony. A sickening crunch could be heard when he landed below.

An arrow sprouted in my left shoulder. I screamed in pain. The force of the arrow caused me to spin around and slip on the edge of the balcony. As I fell, I managed to grab the edge, slamming my legs against the side.

The female bandit stood above me pulling her sword. She laughed cruelly, "I suppose I should thank you for the promotion, girl." As she swung down, I let go falling more than thirty feet to the ground. I luckily managed to land mostly on the male bandit's corpse which absorbed most of the impact. Unfortunately, I also landed directly on my tailbone sending a wave of pain up my back.

I despise when an easy kill suddenly becomes me scrambling for my life. "I really miss Lydia right now," I said to myself thinking of all the times my housecarl had been there to watch my back. I reached up and grabbed the arrow stuck in my chest. It had lodged in the shoulder bone. I snapped it off and threw it away.

Stumbling to my feet, I wobbled to the nearby table. A war axe gleaming with enchantment lay on the table. I grabbed it with both hands and blindly swung as the female bandit charged me. The axe hit her in the neck biting deeply. A spray of blood flew as her body collapsed.

Now I was home. I would take a long hot bath first. No, wait. I would see if Nazir had anything on the fire. No, I would sleep for sixteen hours.

"What is the music of life?" the Black Door inquired.

"Silence," I duly answered.

"Welcome home, sister."

Astrid was waiting for me at her planning table. "Oh good, you're back. Your kill was successful?" I nodded wearily. "Good, I have something else I need you to do."

I sighed, "Astrid, I just got back. Cannot I at least get some sleep?"

"I'm afraid not," Astrid pulled me closer. "It's Cicero. His behavior has become erratic since you left. I think he's planning to turn the others against me. He's been locking himself in the inner chapel. I can hear him talking to someone, but I don't know who."

I bit my lip not knowing how to answer. "Any one of us could enter that room unnoticed. I need you to hide in there and eavesdrop on the fool and his accomplice." Astrid's eyes darted back and forth suspiciously. "Hiding in the shadows wouldn't be good enough. You'll have to hide in the Night Mother's coffin."

My jaw dropped. "You're shocked, I know. But it's the only place Cicero won't check." She pushed me towards the chapel. "Go, I'll distract Cicero to give you a few moments."

"Talos on a dragon," I muttered as I trudged upstairs to the chapel. What had been going on while I was gone?

I stood before the large iron coffin of the Night Mother. I recalled how Cicero had almost snapped my wrist the last time I had been in here and had planned to merely touch the coffin out of curiosity. I poked the front of it out of spite. If you're going to sin, might as well make it worth it.

The lock was childishly simple. The coffin swung open to reveal a long desiccated female corpse. Tatters of a dress clung to her mummified body while rope secured her in an upright position. The smell of cinnamon was strong.

I had explored many barrows for word walls to further teach me the language of the dragons. I had passed several Draugr interred in their ancient coffins and crypts. I was long used to the bodies of the dead, many of them moving and ready to kill me for disturbing their long peace. So why did I feel like maggots were crawling on my skin?

"Um, Night Mother, please do not find offense at what I'm about to do," I cleared my throat. My mouth was suddenly dry. I stepped into the coffin, pulling the doors shut. As it clicked into place, I had the terrible thought of, "How am I going to get out?" I wanted to turn so my back was to the Night Mother, but there wasn't quite enough room to maneuver.

The interior of the coffin was completely black. Thank the gods I'm not claustrophobic. Or afraid of the dark. What is the word for being afraid of the dark? I'll have to ask Festus, he would probably know. It was going to bug me to not know.

I didn't have enough room to put my hands at my sides, so I rested them on the Night Mother's shoulders. I was so tired I leaned against her to take some of the weight off my feet. I expected for her skin to crackle and flake, but it felt like well cured leather. This close I could make out other pleasant smells like rose and jasmine.

I could hear Cicero humming. It was a bit muffled but understandable. At least the coffin wasn't sound proof. "Ah, alone at last," laughter. "Solitude, sweet solitude. Have you talked to anyone? Of course not, I do the sneaking and the saying. I think some of the others are coming around. The wizard Festus Krex, the Argonian, the unchild."

I mentally ticked off each person as Cicero named them. Astrid had sent me here; Arnbjorn would sooner castrate himself than betray his wife. With Festus, Veezara, and Babette named that left only Gabriella or Nazir. My heart sunk. The Dunmer had expressed respect for the Night Mother, but I never would have thought her capable of betraying Astrid. And I doubted it was Nazir since he had stated that he couldn't stand clowns.

"You'll talk when you're ready, won't you? Sweet Night Mother," Cicero crooned.

I sighed in relief. The mad man was only talking to his charge. Of course none of the others would betray Astrid.

Suddenly, I could feel arms snaking around me. The Night Mother's corpse began to softly glow with an unearthly light. The confines of the coffin fell away and I was floating in the openness of the Void. She held me closer, a mother's embrace. I could make out the details of her withered face. I should have felt fear, horror, or disgust and was prepared for it. Instead I felt something completely different and new.

This was what it was like to be in love. Pure unconditional love.

"Poor Cicero, sweet Cicero," her velvet voice filled my very being. If Astrid had a voice you could fall in love with after a few words then the Night Mother had a voice you would kill for. Her words were low and slow like someone who has not used her voice for a long time. "He'll never hear my voice for he is not the Listener. There is only one who may hear my voice. You are the one. You who share my coffin and warm my old bones are the Listener. Tell him the words he has longed to hear all these years. 'Darkness rises when silence dies.' Go to Volunruud and meet with Amaund Motierre. He has performed my Black Sacrament."

She released her grasp and I felt myself falling back into Nothingness.

I returned to reality with the coffin popping open. I reeled backwards into Cicero's arms. His expression was shock that is quickly replaced by rage. "Defiler, blasphemer! You dare to defile the Night Mother's coffin," he shook me like a ragdoll. His fist slammed into my shoulder hitting the arrow wound directly. The pain caused my whole arm to numb. I stumbled back a few steps.

"Wait, the Night Mother said for me to tell you that I'm the one," I held up my good hand in surrender.

Cicero's weight was on me and I fell to the ground. His gloved hands wrapped around my throat. "Lies," his voice scaled higher with each word. "The Night Mother will only speak to the Listener and there IS NO LISTENER!

"Do you think I am a fool? Do you think others haven't tried to falsely claim to be the Listener so as to manipulate loyal Cicero?" I can't breathe. I can't speak. One arm is useless and I can't get any purchase with the other. Cicero is too strong. I could think of only one option left to me. I'll apologize to him later. My knee rammed up as hard as I could manage into the place all men dread. The jester grunted in pain, his grip immediately released. I pushed him away and crawled trying to make some distance between us.

Cicero recovered much too quickly, shaking off the blow and raising to his feet. His hand was already on his dagger. "You'll learn the price for disrespecting the Night Mother," his voice deep and dark. No jokes now. "Just like Loreius did." His booted foot kicked me in the midsection hard enough to flip me onto my back. Cicero straddled me and lowered himself to pin me. The knife is raised high above his head ready to come down.

"Darkness rises when silence dies," I managed to say.

The knife fell to the ground, clattering loudly. "The words," Cicero said in wonder, "The Binding Words. The ones in the Keeping Tomes. The only way Mother had to communicate with poor Cicero." He leapt to his feet, dancing. He laughed madly as he cavorted around the room, doing somersaults and cartwheels. "She's back, our Lady is back!"

I opted to lie there quietly, drawing in deep, rattling breaths. One of the doors to the chamber burst open. Astrid strode in, ready to catch Cicero and his accomplice. "This ends now!" she yelled. "Who's the traitor?"

"I found the Listener, I found the Listener!" Cicero skipped around Astrid, his voice singsong.

"It was the Night Mother, he was only talking to the Night Mother," I coughed. I managed to roll over to my hands and knees, but didn't trust I had the strength to stand. Astrid walked over and gave me a hand up.

"And the Night Mother spoke to her!" Cicero bound back to Astrid leaning against her. "She's the Listener!" Astrid sneered at the jester before pushing him away.

"Volunruud. Meet with Amaund Motierre," I whispered. My eyes fluttered. So tired. Before losing consciousness, I said, "Contract from the Night Mother."


Tirdas 21 Sun's Dawn 4E 202 2:00 PM

I awoke in my bed. Someone had changed me out of my armor and dressed me in a nightgown. Fresh bandages, expertly wrapped, were on my wrist and shoulder. A damp cloth graced my head. I looked to my right and saw Cicero's smiling face inches from mine. The jester was crouched next to my bed, his gloved hands grasping the edge.

"Oh, you're awake, you're awake," he sang. Cicero turned and yelled, "Babette, unchild, the Listener has awoken. Cicero is telling you just as you asked." He turned his attention back to me. I winced at the noise.

Gabriella walked into the room. "Welcome back to the living, sister," she said. "How do you feel?"

"Hungry," I pushed myself into a sitting position. "Need to pee."

"I'm not surprised. You've been asleep for twenty hours," Gabriella nudged Cicero aside and helped me out of the bed.

"Cicero will get the Listener some food." Cicero dashed out of the room to match action to words.

"He was by your side the whole time," Gabriella remarked. She slung my arm around her shoulders so I could lean my weight against her. "I haven't decided if it was endearing or creepy. It would be more flattering if he hadn't spent the whole night trying to talk to you. He kept asking for you to be okay and muttering about how he may be punished by Sithis if you weren't."

As Gabriella assisted me to the privy, she filled me in what had happened after I had passed out. Festus, Gabriella, and Babette had been put in charge of making sure I was going to be okay. Arnbjorn and Veezara had been given the task of going to Volunruud to confirm what I had said was true or not. Astrid had tried to banish Cicero to his room, but he had ignored her to stay by my bed. His animated chatter all night long had driven Festus to attempt to sleep in the alchemy room.

"I guess I'm not surprised," I said. "Cicero is an insomniac."

"And how would you know this, sister?" Gabriella asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's not like you've been in the Sanctuary to know."

"It's an awkward and embarrassing story," I said.

"Then you must be sure to tell me sometime," Gabriella smiled wickedly.

When we returned, Babette was arranging various philters and elixirs on the end table. Cicero stood in the doorway, nervously fiddling with a bowl of stew. Festus barred the jester further entry into the sleeping chamber.

"I'm going to need to change her bandages," Babette giving Festus a pointed look. She tilted her head slightly to indicate Cicero.

"Come on, son," Festus gently pushed Cicero back towards the kitchen. "Let's give the women some privacy." Cicero glanced anxiously towards me, but amazingly left without a word.

"Remove your gown please," Babette measured out the amount of cloth she wanted to use. With Gabriella's help, I managed to pull it off. "Looks like you had quite the adventure." As Babette cleaned my wounds and replaced the bandages, I told her and Gabriella what had happened in the Night Mother's chamber.

"The Lady has chosen to speak after so many years of silence," the dark elf marveled. "Oh, new times are ahead."

"I've seen enough to know there is nothing new under the sun," Babette said. She handed me a glass. "Drink."

I gulped the mixture down. "This stuff is foul," I grimaced. "Why am I still so tired?"

"Your body was already strained by the time you arrived to the sanctuary," Babette explained. She primly tucked her skirt under her feet as she sat on my bed. "The shoulder wound was infected. I suspect the bandit had poisoned the arrow tip. The beating Cicero gave you further agitated the wound. You need to heal and the best way for that is to do what your body is telling you. Rest."

My eyes were already drooping. Babette's voice was very far away. My head hit the cool pillows and dreamless sleep followed.


Tirdas 21 Sun's Dawn 4E 202 8:00 PM

This time when I awoke I still felt weak, but felt much more human. It didn't feel like the entire world was bearing down on me. Once again I looked to my right and saw Cicero. This time his arms were folded on the bed with his head resting on them. He didn't look very comfortable that way, but he was asleep.

"Don't hate Cicero," he whimpered. "Mother, please." By the Eight, he talked even in his sleep.

I gently ran my hand over his fine red hair. I noticed the sewn patches in his cap and outfit. The outfit had been carefully tended to, but it was faded from years of use. The Night Mother had mentioned that he had waited years to hear the Binding Words. It had been little more than a day and I already craved the Night Mother's voice again. What must have it felt to wait years without even the blessing of having heard her?

"The Night Mother doesn't hate you," I told the sleeping man. "She called you her sweet Cicero." He must have heard me because the jester sighed and settled into a more peaceful rest.