Broken Vows
Chapter 7
The night I returned to Vivec, the nightmares began. They varied night to night, from violence and storms to vampires and falls from great heights; visions of terror from which I could not awaken, no matter how hard I tried. Worst were the dreams I could not remember: from those, I did awaken, sweating and breathless, with my heart pounding from what could have been fear or something else, and no memory of the visions that had haunted my sleep.
Thus, my first few official weeks as a member of the Order of War are still a blur in my mind; the dreams afforded me too little rest to allow my memory to work properly. There was not much to remember, in any case. I still lived in the Hall of Justice in Vivec, and occasionally volunteered to take a shift on the watch, as there was little to do on the long stretches between assignments outside the city.
On perhaps the fifteenth or sixteenth night of nightmares, I awoke with a start, jerking upright in my cot with a strangled gasp. The dream was already forgotten; I rubbed wearily at my eyes, wishing I could sleep for more than a few hours without interruption.
I lay back down, but I was kept awake by the certainty that I would only dream again. After a half-hour or so, I arose and dressed myself in my armor, hoping a walk in the cool night air would calm my nerves.
My restless feet took me to the Hlaalu canton. I wandered the outer walkways, seeing no one but a few brothers of the Watch; it was there that Amurah found me. She emerged gracefully from the dark shadows outside the entrance to the waistworks, drifting into sight like a dark feather in the wind. I averted my eyes and kept walking, hoping to pass unrecognized.
It was a foolish hope, of course. She fell into step beside me, moving silently. "Well, well... what keeps you up and about so late in the night, Ordinator?"
I eyed her warily. "Nightmares," I said shortly, wondering what she would make of it.
Her gracefulness seemed to fail her momentarily; she stumbled one step, shooting me a startled glance, but she said nothing.
"And you?" I asked, trying not to feel guilty about glancing behind me, to see if another Ordinator was watching. "Wandering the night on Mephala's dark errands, are you?"
"Yes," she replied simply, and glanced at me again, as she pulled open the door to the plaza. "Care to join me?"
"Surely I don't look quite that mad," I said, staring at her. She smiled, infuriatingly, and ducked through the door.
Smoothing away my scowl of annoyance, I went after her, easing shut the heavy door. She walked on without me, and I hurried to catch up, trying to walk softly across the echoing flagstones. "What are you doing?" I hissed, my eyes on the guard who stood post at the far end of the plaza.
"I have a Writ to carry out," Amurah said, and reached into a pocket. "Here, you can read it, if you like. In fact, it would be good if you came with me. Sometimes the onlookers get a little... overexcited, and it would be best to have an Ordinator present at the time of the execution. Just to keep things from getting out of hand." She held up the rolled paper toward me.
I nearly reached for it, but common sense intervened. What would the Order make of a second report, under my name, of an execution carried out by an assassin named Amurah Llenith?
"I'm off duty," I said.
"Then why are you following a Guildmember around the City in the middle of the night?" She asked innocently. She glanced pointedly at the other guard, who had now turned to stare in our direction.
Too clever, I thought to myself, angrily. "Lead on, citizen," I raised my voice, making it impersonal and a bit impatient. "I have more important duties to attend than verifying the legality of your executions." The guard turned away, satisfied that nothing was amiss, and I followed Amurah into the Elven Nations Cornerclub, glowering at her back.
Inside, the few patrons who visited the club in the late hours of the night were laughing uproariously at some drunken joke. They fell silent when we entered; I could not say if it was due to my presence, or the look of grim purpose that Amurah wore as she strode through the tavern. I followed her down to the lower level, where a few drunkards sat slumped over their tables.
One of them, a Dunmer, looked up as we entered. His eyes widened, and he rose clumsily to his feet, fumbling a knife into his hand.
"I- I don't want any trouble-" he stammered, backing away from Amurah as she approached.
It happened more quickly than I'd expected. Amurah did not stop to reply to the man's pleas; her Daedric sword was in her hand, the one that she'd taken from Ald Sotha. She slashed at him without hesitation, moving fluidly to evade his attempts at a counterattack. As the other patrons looked up muzzily to watch, I shifted uncomfortably on my feet, thinking uneasily that perhaps I should have read the Writ before I allowed her to attack the man.
I could see that the unlucky Dunmer would not have been a match for Amurah even if he was sober. The struggle was over in short order, and Amurah straightened up from his corpse to hand me the Writ, all business.
I skimmed over it without truly reading it; I still was not sure I would make a true report. Since a bit of a crowd had gathered in the room, I went through the formality of recording her name, noting that she'd moved up in the ranks of the Guild since the first time we'd met. When I'd finished, she took her leave with a wry smile and went back the way we'd entered, up to the plaza-level of the tavern.
"Move along, citizens," I grated automatically, and the gathering of onlookers began to disperse.
Not wanting to encounter the guard in the plaza, I left through the door that led into the waistworks. The soft sound of the running water there was soothing, helping to ease, a little, the guilt I was beginning to feel. To come upon a scene of execution after it was done, and to let the murderer go, that was one thing... No one on the Watch enjoyed it, but it had to be done. But, this- to stand aside and watch it be carried out, without stepping in to prevent it? I squeezed my eyes shut, wondering what was happening to my piety, my devotion to the Temple and truth.
My lip twisting in disgust under my helm, I left the waistworks as quickly as my feet would carry me.
Amurah found me again a few minutes later, this time as I stepped off the bridge to the Redoran canton.
"Nightmares, eh?" Said her voice in the darkness, startling me. She appeared in my sight a moment later, leaning against the wall across from the bridge, arms folded over her chest. I slowed my hurried strides, staring at her.
"Yes," I said shortly, and made my feet keep moving, walking past her.
"Me, too."
I paused, turning around to look at her again. She hadn't moved. I could feel that tension between us when our eyes met; it pulled at me, and it took an effort to resist. A thought surfaced in my memory, Eno Hlaalu's warning: The farther you run from Mephala, the tighter he will pull the thread about your neck. We stared at each other for a long, silent moment.
"Come with me," she said finally. "The Grandmaster wants to speak with you."
"Why?" I demanded.
She shrugged. "It is not my place to say."
Thinking that I would probably regret it later, I agreed, reluctantly. She told me to meet her in the Arena again, and then faded from sight, bleeding into the shadows. Resolutely, I headed across Redoran canton, determined to ask Eno Hlaalu why his assassin was following me.
----
The Morag Tong headquarters was just as I remembered it. I avoided looking toward Mephala's shrine; Amurah led me past it, through a maze of twisting halls. "You should count yourself lucky, Ordinator," she said as we walked. "I don't think anyone who is not in the Guild has been here more than once."
There were several things in her statement that I could have argued with-- I certainly did not consider myself to be lucky, for one-- but, oddly, I was most bothered by her use of my title. The night was becoming more and more surreal; after watching her carry out an execution, and now voluntarily going to speak with her superior, I certainly didn't feel like an Ordinator, and I did not appreciate the reminder.
"I do have a name, assassin," I said crossly.
"So do I," she retorted, and then stopped, looking at me with a bemused expression. "You do?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"
She shrugged. "I thought maybe the Ordinators gave up their names when they entered into the Temple's service. I've never heard any referred to by name."
I made a noncommittal sound. Amurah glanced at me. "Well?"
"Sul," I told her, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Like the mask on my helm, my anonymity was part of the facade of professionalism that I hid behind when I was on duty. And, like the mask, it was another thing I had let Amurah see beneath. "Sul Daerys."
She looked as if she would reply, but we had arrived at a doorway to a room where Eno Hlaalu sat at a desk, several open books arrayed before him. He did not look up as we entered.
"I have brought... the Ordinator to speak with you, Grandmaster," Amurah said, glancing at me.
The man did not look up as he replied absently, "Yes... Leave him."
Amurah shot me another glance, a warning one-- what she was warning me against, I could not say-- before heading back down the hall. I was left alone with Eno Hlaalu, who continued to ignore my presence. I found myself wondering what atrocities the man had committed in his lifetime, that he would have risen to such a high position in a Guild that carried out murders. I felt myself growing angry, and waited unmoving, glaring at him.
When he did finally turn his attention to me, his piercing gaze was startling. Even more startling were his words; certainly not what I had expected.
"How have you been sleeping, Ordinator?" He asked.
I blinked, suddenly more surprised than angry. "Not well," I admitted, cautiously. "I have been plagued by nightmares every night. Your assassin tells me she suffers the same. Is this your doing?"
Hlaalu's mouth twisted in a humorless smile. "Mine? You are more foolish than you look, Ordinator. These dreams are sent to you by Mephala."
I opened my mouth to defy his claim, and then thought better of it. Mephala had spoken to me, after all... there was no reason to believe that the god could not force nightmares upon me, as well.
"Why?" I asked instead.
Eno Hlaalu leaned back in his chair, gazing up at me. "The Spider has plans for you, and yet you resist. There is a space in his web that you are meant to fill, and he will continue to call you until you answer."
"What plans?"
He raised his eyebrows. "You are in a better position to know than I am. What do you think he wants?"
"I don't know," I said obstinately. Hlaalu only stared at me, and finally I amended reluctantly, "Well. Perhaps... it seems the god wants me to join the Morag Tong." It was laughable to hear myself say it.
"Perhaps," he agreed calmly. He took a well-worn book from a stack on his desk, a slim volume with a scuffed green cover. "Take this; read it. Amurah can take it back when you've finished. Do not resist the Spider's will too long, Ordinator. His price may be more than you are willing to pay." I took the book, and he turned back to his own studies, dismissing me.
I waited a moment; when he continued to ignore me, I strode out of the room, glancing at the book.
The Black Glove, read the worn green cover. I had heard of it; it was given to prospective new members of the Morag Tong as an introduction to the Guild. My anger returned in a flare of heat, and I clenched my hand around the book, wishing I could tear it in half.
For the third time that night, Amurah intercepted my path; she was waiting in the common bunk room outside Hlaalu's quarters. She got to her feet when I entered. "I will take you to the shrine-" she began.
"I have nothing to say to your Spider God," I interrupted, tossing her the book as I walked past her. "Or to you. Any of you."
"Sul." My name, coming from her lips, sent an unlooked-for thrill through me. Despite myself, I paused, turning my head to glare at her.
Amurah took a deep breath. "Whatever dreams you've been having... imagine if you did not have your Tribunal to guard you from the worst of them. You, you have your Three god-kings and your saints to give you their blessings and soften Mephala's touch. But I've devoted my life to following the Spider; I belong to her. And when she chooses to send me visions in my sleep..." She shuddered, and I realized for the first time how sunken and haunted her eyes looked.
She held the book out toward me, a plea in her gaze. "Please, Sul, just read it. I ask no more than that. I don't like this any more than you do... But whatever Mephala is doing to convince you, I receive the same, tenfold. Please."
I held back a sigh and took the book reluctantly, refusing to acknowledge the warmth spreading through me when Amurah smiled gratefully. "Thank you," she said softly.
"Don't," I told her, hurrying away from her as quickly as I could.
