By the time I finished with the day's errands, it was too late to fetch a courier. Alvor and Sigrid had no reason to worry about me, but I still felt I owed them a heads up that their task had been fulfilled. Hadvar, on the other hand, would be expecting me for more sparring lessons, and I felt a pang of guilt at thinking I had just found new instructors.
The morning after, I scribbled a quick note for them:
"Dear everyone:
Jarl Balgruuf is very thankful for Alvor's message. Guards should be on their way now. I have been asked to remain in town for a couple more days, as there's something the court mage needs done regarding the dragons. Say hi to Dorthee.
Thanks for everything, see you soon.
Sira"
My tasks as errand girl were every bit as menial as I had expected, but not particularly physically imposing. Fetch a shield for Aela. Have some daggers cleaned. Arrange for more wine. The training I was expected to follow in between errands, on the other hand, was every bit as grueling as it could be. The Companions had not stayed in business for over a thousand years by allowing their whelps to keep a single drop of sweat for themselves.
It was, however, an opportunity not to be missed, and I was immensely proud of having been admitted – far prouder than of anything else, ever, even if I wouldn't admit it. So during the next three days, I gave myself into it, working my muscles so they'd be up to the standards demanded of my already quick reflexes. Each night, I would go to bed so sore and tired to have to plan the quickest way to drag myself into bed, and the following morning I'd need to rub my legs before they would respond to my mind. It would've reminded me of my childhood misery, if it weren't for the deep thrill I would get at every compliment.
The library at Jorrvaskr was equally impressive, although I wasn't particularly interested in reading. I'd never had any books as a child, and nobody on my alley had much beyond "The Lusty Argonian Maid", but the sight of shelves full of tomes was something I expected only of palaces. On my second night, right after supper, I escaped the table (Torvar's and Njada's sarcastic bickering wasn't as funny as they thought), and went down into the living quarters, just staring at the shelves right outside Kodlak's office.
No pretty tales to be found on this one. The titles all suggested higher knowledge and pursuits: accounts of past explorers, manuals, biographies of great heroes. It was a weird feeling to have so much knowledge just staring at my fingertips, if only I knew where to begin looking… and in any case, was I looking for anything?
"Going to take your pick already?" I heard Athis say behind me. I flushed and grabbed the first tome I could, Nord pharmacopeia.
"Sure. There you go, take all the others if you want."
"I may as well, for all the attention most people pay to them. Didn't take you for an alchemist."
"Oh" I quickly saw the cover of the book I'd taken. "I am no alchemist. That's a big word. I can mix some blue mountain flowers with wheat or butterfly wings to heal myself. I'll have to learn something better if I don't want to pawn my own skin to Arcadia."
"Can't argue with that goal, to save a few septims. In Morrowind, any housewife can do what Arcadia sells. Try adding charred skeever and giant's toe to the flowers, kid, and make sure you return the book where you found it."
"Oh. Right. I'm sorry – I mean, thanks."
"Was that so hard? Now, I left some pages there marked, with cheap ingredients to restore stamina. I've seen you fight, and you'll need them."
"I thought that was mostly needed when you're carrying massive hammers around." For someone who rarely seemed in a good disposition, may as well milk the opportunity as much as possible.
"Ah, the huge hammers. The locals are very fond of those." He chuckled. "A small sword can be even more lethal if you're fast enough, but you're not yet. And you should work to waste less energy on unnecessary botched blows – they'll get you killed. In the meantime, try trotting around less when they send you to errands, and do proper sprints."
"Full on?"
"As fast as you can, for 30 seconds. That's where your advantage should be."
"Wait, let me get some parchment for notes"
"Funny." He did look vaguely amused, but he clearly wasn't the roaring laughter type.
"Couldn't resist."
"You're all right, kiddo – you read and that makes three of us, other than Kodlak, but now you're interfering with my reading."
"Very well. Thank you, and good bye."
I really should've written down those ingredients he gave me. For an overly-defensive, bitter elf, Athis was OK.
There was not a lot of time to settle, as just two days after that, I was taken away from breakfast for the jarl's summons. Quite inconvenient, as my training was just gathering momentum, but I was secretly relieved at what seemed to be a "rest day". I mean, how hard could it be to fetch a stone from a grave?
If I'd asked, I bet Farengar, the court mage, would've mentioned the potential draugrs, skeevers, frostbite spiders, and general confusion expected inside Bleak Falls Barrow, but he didn't seem to care for people in general and I didn't care for looking like an ignorant foreigner. So as far as I was concerned, there was nothing to fear there beyond the bandits who had taken Lucan's golden claw, and the pull of that reward was stronger than the potential risk.
As an extra perk, I finally had the opportunity to go back to Riverwood. As I walked down their main road, Hadvar spotted me from his station on the gallery.
"There's the missing lady!" He hollered and got up from his chair, which apparently he was already able to do, even if slowly.
"Divines, Hadvar, you look so much better! I've missed you, I feel I have so much to tell you." I went straight for the hug.
"Then hurry, because the way it's going, I should be carted off to Solitude in four more days."
"Oh, where to start? The Jarl thinks I'm brave, so now he sends me on errands. I helped the Companions slay a giant so they invited me over to Jorrvaskr. Now I have the honour of being their newest whelp, and I'm learning so much! One of them is a Dunmer who taught me some Alchemy because Arcadia's potions are so expensive. There's also a couple of scary looking twins. One of them is nice, the other one is smart. And an incredibly quick, lethal hunter called Aela, she's the one who was with the giant, I bet you'd fancy her."
"Wait, slow down. You're a Companion now? That's incredible, Sira – but 4 days ago you were no warrior!"
Yes, I'm ignoring that frown you don't realise you've made. I'm also ignoring the unpleasant chill your frown is giving me.
"Well, fine, the façade's dropped. Worse things have happened."
"What about the Jarl's errands?"
"Oh, yes, that's why I'm here. His mage wants me up in Bleak Falls Barrow to retrieve a stone that has something to do with dragons. Figured I would stop by and visit on the way."
"Bleak Falls Barrow? By yourself? That place used to give me nightmares as a child." He grabbed my arm just a notch above a friendly squeeze – almost getting to anxious clutch.
"Well, already told the Jarl I would, I'm not about to back down. Don't have enough rank with the companions to get a Shield-brother as tag-along yet, nor enough coin to hire a mercenary. I'm sure I'll handle it."
Only about half the confidence I was showing was fake. The other half was seasoned by a desire to impress and my inability to deal with the fact that he looked unhappy at the fact I'd joined Companions.
"What about Faendal? The hunter."
"The Bosmer leg to the torrid Valerius triangle? Sure, he'll do it for free if it means impressing Valeria".
"Well, excellent. Let's get Dorthee to fetch him. I'll talk him into it."
It was thanks to Alivar that Sira learned how to make a decent healing charm, how to behave at a dinner table like anything more than a barbarian, and the real value of her circlet. However, the most important lesson he left her with was the art of deceit. A lowborn 18 year old may be too inexperienced to lie convincingly, but Alivar had lived at least 4 times as much (even if he didn't look so).
When he found her by the door of the Count's Arms, he saw through her unpolished walk in less than ten seconds. Nevertheless, he lied, fed her vanity, and praised her superior intelligence before offering himself to tutor her the in arcane arts. He invested several evening buying her colovian brandy after their lessons, and dropping casual compliments right before casually asking her about her circlet or her living arrangements. Since he would get nothing but lies, he pretended to believe them and simply had her followed.
Not interested in teaching her anything beyond flames and sparks, he sought a more aggressive way to gain her trust: he bedded her and told her he was in love. Whatever little restraint she'd had in Alivar as a "tutor" disappeared once he turned suitor: she wanted to believe herself special, and quickly became too enraptured with him to question anything. To finish pushing her over the edge, he placed a small bottle of Skooma in Emilia's pocket, sending her straight into her moon dreams.
Under Alivar's plans, Emilia was meant to end up back in the whorehouse, giving Sira the perfect mental state in which to entrust him with her possessions. Emilia didn't make it that far, though: driven violent and incoherent by her abstinence syndrome, she got herself mauled to death by a Khajiit trader after trying to rob him of the Skooma he wasn't dealing. When Sira showed up at his inn, red-eyed and shaky, to give him the news, he saw a much simpler opportunity and offered to buy her circlet straight ahead.
Even the best make mistakes, and Alivar had made a huge one: by then, Sira had seen enough of the nice side of town to know copper and moonstone couldn't be worth that much. Suddenly, his sweetness and attentions made sense, as did the faint, ethereal glow the circlet had and the inhuman confidence it gave the wearer. If her innocence was killed that instant, her need for food didn't let her mourn it.
She immediately agreed to give Alivar the circlet in exchange for almost 300 septims. She told him to follow her to her alley, handed it over, took her money in her pocket, and before he made the pretense of plans for their next encounter, Sira dug a poisoned dagger right between his ribs.
Canis, Imp Stool and Mora Tapinella: the most valuable lesson he left her, she thought.
