Chapter 7

Marcus made his way north of town, as Captain Veleth had indicated, looking for Second Councilor Arano. He found him halfway to the Earth Stone, just past a rather large, solitary house set back from the road.

"Thank you for coming, Marcus of Whiterun," Arano greeted him. "After all you've already done for Raven Rock, I hate to ask for more, but I can't risk Councilor Morvayn being killed."

Instantly alert, Marcus asked carefully, "What makes you think the Councilor's life is in danger?"

Arano sighed. "The Ulen Family of House Hlaalu – a rival Great House – has placed a deathmark on the Councilor's head."

"Why?" Marcus inquired. "If you don't mind my asking, that is. What did Morvayn do to the Ulens?"

"He once ordered an execution of a member of House Hlaalu, for treason, many years ago. He had irrefutable proof that Vilur Ulen was attempting a coup that would have thrown Morrowind into chaos for many years to come. Now I suspect that there may be hostile members of House Hlaalu living undercover right here in Raven Rock. Unfortunately, suspicions aren't proof, and before I accuse anyone, I need that."

"So what did you want me to do?" Getting involved in an internal civil war was the last thing on Marcus' agenda, but Second Councilor Arano seemed very agitated – for a Dunmer – and genuinely concerned for the safety of his superior. In truth, an assassination of the head man of Raven Rock – and by extension, all of Solstheim – would do no one any good. Marcus knew that Skyrim frequently shipped goods to Morrowind and Solstheim, and received merchandise in return. Keeping a stable trade relation intact was beneficial to both sides. And if that meant doing a favor for the Second Councilor, it was a small thing to ask.

"I'd like you to be my eyes and ears in Raven Rock," Arano told him, "and see what you can discover. Raven Rock is a small community, and everyone knows everyone. Any time I try to find something out, the information melts away. But you are a stranger here. You may be able to learn something I haven't been able to yet. Talk to Geldis Sadri at the Retching Netch. He's a bit of a gossip, but you can trust him. He's been with us for years, in spite of his reputation. He has a few ideas that I have not been able to make work."

"I'll make no promises," Marcus cautioned him. "But I'll see what I can find out."

"That's all I ask, Marcus," Arano smiled. "You've already eased my mind a bit. Thank you."

Marcus took his leave and headed for the Retching Netch.

"Here to rent your room for another night?" Geldis Sadri smiled.

"Yes, please," Marcus said, handing over the coin. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have a relative in Windhelm, would you?"

"Who, Revyn?" Geldis smiled. "He runs that general store, Sadri's Used Wares, right? Never 'eard of him." He winked and chuckled. "Just kidding. He's my cousin. Our fathers were brothers. He's older than me by a couple of years, but I never lose an opportunity of rubbing it in. How's he doing? When did you see him last?"

"A few months ago," Marcus admitted. "He's doing well." He deliberately didn't mention the time Revyn had conned him into returning Viola Giordano's stolen ring. "I'd be willing to pass a message along to him for you, when I return to Skyrim."

Geldis beamed. "That's real nice of you! I'll sit down tonight and work on a letter. I appreciate that! Anything I can get you right now? Sujamma? Shein? Matze?"

"No, nothing like that," Marcus said, lowering his voice. "I'm really looking for information."

Immediately Geldis dropped his own volume. "Ohhh," he whispered, conspiratorially. "Arano's got you on the case of the Ulen Family, eh?"

"Does everyone know about that?" Marcus asked in consternation.

"No, not everyone," Geldis assured him. "But I know it's been on his mind lately. He's just going about it all wrong."

Marcus gave him a sharp look. "And you'd do it differently?"

Geldis shrugged. "Look, if you want to catch those slippery slaughterfish, you have to make them come to you."

"How do I do that?"

"There's an Ulen Ancestral Tomb near the Temple," Geldis explained. "Someone's been leaving ash yam offerings on the altar inside. Now it seems to me that whoever is leaving them might know something useful. But Arano and his team of Redoran Guards have never been able to catch anyone actually doing it when they go to the Tomb. You, being an ordinary citizen, and a stranger here, might be able to go there and wait and see who shows up."

"I'm not going to accuse anyone of murder plots," Marcus frowned.

"You won't need to," Geldis said, shaking his head. "Just see who it is and let Arano know. He'll take care of the rest."

Marcus considered this. "Sounds like a better plan than chasing shadows," he agreed. "Thanks, Geldis." He placed a few coins on the counter, which Geldis scooped up and pocketed, rewarding the Dragonborn with a smile.

"Good luck!" he called after Marcus' retreating back.

Outside, he paused to let his eyes adjust to the hazy daylight, and coughed as the ash caught the back of his throat. It took only a moment to cast the healing spell Azura had taught him to clear his lungs and he immediately felt immeasurably better.

"Azura taught you that trick, didn't she?" a Dunmer called from his seat in front of his home. An assortment of wares were spread out on boards and carpets around him. Nearby, a tanning rack was set up and a basketful of hides waited to be cured.

"You know Azura?" Marcus asked him.

"Everyone in Raven Rock knows Azura," the Dunmer smiled. "She's helped nearly everyone in town, I guess. Name's Fethis Alor. Anything you're looking for, I probably have. You're that Marcus feller from Whiterun, aren't you?"

"That would be me," Marcus admitted. "I think Aphia Carellius mentioned you to me."

"Ah, Aphia! There's a nice lady," Fethis smiled. "Don't know what she sees in that old codger of a husband of hers, but I suppose it takes all types."

"Yeah, Crescius takes some getting used to," Marcus nodded. "I wonder, though, can you tell me anything about this?" He pulled the silver amulet he'd found in the mine out of his belt pouch.

Fethis' eyes widened. "Well, now, it's been awhile since I've seen one of these!" he murmured. "I used to sell lots of these, until I ran out," he went on. "This is an East Empire Company pendant. They used to give these to their workers as an incentive at one point…a kind of reward for extra effort."

"Are they rare?" Marcus asked.

"Well, they're no longer being made," Fethis nodded, "so they've become collectible. I'd love to get my hands on a few more of them. Are you selling this one? I'd pay you a fair price for it."

Marcus hesitated. "I think I'll hang onto this one for now," he finally said. "If I come across another one, it's yours."

"Fair enough," Fethis replied. "I'll take any you can find off your hands. The old mines are a good place to look for them, but they could be scattered all over Solstheim."

Marcus nodded his thanks and turned to leave. An altercation nearby, however, caught his attention before he could head for the Temple. A Dunmer selling produce was arguing with an Orc. Behind the Orc, a rat-faced Dunmer hovered, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. Marcus didn't like the looks of this.

"Oh…hello, Mogrul," the farmer said nervously. "Care for anything from my stand?"

"Ash yams, Garyn?" the Orc sneered in disgust. "I'd rather eat cheese that's been sitting in the sun for a week."

Garyn's tone became pleading. "Look, I know why you're here," he said. "I'll get the coin, I promise!"

Mogrul gave a cruel smile. "If you want that beautiful wife of yours to stay that way, you'd better."

He strode off, with his toady following close behind. Pausing at Milore's stall, he glowered at her, and she shrank back from the glare.

"Milore, you need to talk some sense into your husband," he stated baldly.

"You can't get blood from a stone, Mogrul," Milore pleaded with him. "As it is, we can barely make ends meet."

"That isn't my problem," Mogrul dismissed her. "I was clear when I loaned Garyn the money that I wanted it back by the first harvest."

Milore sighed. "I'll see what I can do…"

Mogrul grunted and headed for the Retching Netch, disappearing inside.

Marcus stood there for several minutes, fuming in the hazy sunshine, getting his temper under control.

"Are you alright?" Fethis asked from his rug.

"Who was that sonofabitch?" Marcus asked quietly.

"The Orc?" Fethis shuddered. "That's Mogrul. He's a money-lender. Nearly everyone in Raven Rock is in debt to him to some degree or other."

"And no one does anything about it?" Marcus demanded. He hated usurers. They preyed on those who could ill afford the exorbitant fees they charged for their services, but who felt they had no place left to turn. Raven Rock was a town that had seen better days, but that didn't mean scum like Mogrul could come in and take advantage of others' misfortune.

"He's not doing anything illegal…that he's been caught at, that is," Fethis offered, unhappily. "But he's a bully, and takes advantage of our fear. I think I might be the only one he owes money to. He hasn't paid me for months."

Marcus turned back to face the Dunmer. "The money-lender owes you money?"

"Ironic, isn't it?" Fethis scowled. "He bought some potions off me last Rain's Hand. I'm a patient man, but it's been four months now, and Mogrul's made no attempt to pay me the two thousand septims he owes me. I don't think he ever will. Every time I bring the subject up, he says to 'put it on his account.'"

Marcus frowned. "Can't you get the Redoran Guard to shake him down for it?"

"They've been too busy with the ash spawn attacks, and…well…" Fethis' voice trailed off and he shifted uncomfortably. "Some of those things I got for him weren't exactly…legal."

Marcus nodded in dawning understanding. By involving the Redoran Guard to enforce what Mogrul owed him, Fethis would be implicating himself in contraband.

"What if I talk to him for you?" he offered. It wasn't that he condoned Fethis' line of trade, but he didn't like bullies making threats against family members. He liked Milore, and if Mogrul laid a hand on her, there would be Oblivion to pay.

"That might help me," Fethis acknowledged, "but it will make it harder on people like Garyn and Drovas and others who have borrowed money from him, just to get by."

"I'll make him see reason," Marcus promised. "He might find easier pickings in Blacklight after this."

So saying he headed back to the Retching Netch, only to practically collide with Mogrul as he came out of the tavern again.

"Watch what you're doing, pipsqueak!" the Orc muttered, sweeping out a massive forearm to brush the Imperial aside. Marcus grabbed the arm and with a neat twist brought it up behind Mogrul and held it there. The Orc struggled, but Marcus had the leverage.

The weasley Dunmer behind him drew his sword and Marcus barked out, "ZUN!" The blade went flying and Marcus yanked Mogrul's arm painfully again, adding to the Dunmer, "This is between Mogrul and me. Stay out of it."

A crowd was beginning to form around the marketplace, but Marcus didn't care.

"You owe Fethis Alor two thousand septims, Mogrul," Marcus said evenly. "It's time to pay up."

"Who in Oblivion are you to—AHH!" He yelped as Marcus, with his free hand, rapidly punched several nerve points on the Orc's body. They were slightly different than in a human, and he was grateful for the insights Durak at Fort Dawnguard had given him.

He released Mogrul's arm, knowing the Orc would be heavily handicapped if he tried to wield a weapon, but the bully was eyeing the Dragonborn warily. "Who says I owe him money? That skooma dealer? Hah! He'll get his money when he can pry it from my cold, dead fingers, not before."

Skooma? Marcus' resolve faltered a bit. Fethis hadn't told him it was skooma. Seeing the fleeting look of distraction on the Imperial's face, Mogrul grabbed a handful of ash and sand and threw it into Marcus' eyes before leaping up to pummel him into the ground. He knew that as long as weapons weren't drawn, the Redoran Guard would look the other way.

Blinded, his eyes streaming, Marcus rolled to one side, but could not escape Mogrul, who was on him in a second. Huge, beefy mattocks slammed into his face, and only the dragonbone helmet saved his nose from getting crushed. Knowing better than to try and head-bash an Orc, Marcus opted instead to buy himself time to fight on an even footing. Since Mogrul hadn't drawn a weapon, he wouldn't either.

"FEIM!" he Shouted, going insubstantial instantly. Mogrul's next swipe went completely through him, causing the Orc to cry out in pain again as he slammed his fist into the rocks under the sand. Marcus took advantage of his condition to scramble to his feet and back away, digging the sand and ash out of his eyes.

The cool-down period for a single-word Shout was far quicker than if he had used a fully voiced one, Marcus knew, and since this was a street brawl, and life or death was not on the line here, he decided to keep it simple. But he had already learned an important fact: Mogrul fought dirty, relying on his size and strength to intimidate and overpower weaker opponents. Marcus had been caught off-guard, but he was far from weak.

Some of the Redoran Guard were stopping to watch, but did not interfere. It occurred to Marcus that some of them might be in debt to Mogrul as well. He could feel the thu'um fading and prepared himself. Mogrul was no stranger to fighting. He used no magicka, and as far as Marcus could tell, didn't know any spells. Marcus did, but the only ones he knew which might be useful were Destruction spells, and he wasn't out to kill Mogrul; he only wanted to teach him a lesson.

Now the two opponents went at it in earnest. Mogrul was powerful, but he was huge and slow. Marcus was more agile, and used that to his advantage. At several points during the fight, Mogrul taunted him to "stand still and fight like a man," or to "come here so I can pound you into the sand." Marcus, wisely, chose to ignore the taunts. He used his tae kwon do to target Mogrul's central nervous system and his Shouts to soften him up. Staying out the Orc's way was his primary goal. He wanted to wear the not-so-jolly green giant down. And his plan was working. Mogrul was breathing harder than he was under the ash-laden sky.

He had nearly beaten Mogrul when someone – he thought it was Milore – called out, "Marcus! Behind you!"

Whirling, he saw the wiry Dunmer, Mogrul's companion, sneaking up on him with his sword raised, prepared to strike him down.

"FUS RO DAH!" Marcus bellowed.

The little guy rag-dolled across the marketplace to slam against Glover Mallory's smelter, where he lay unmoving. A couple of the Redoran Guard went over to check on him.

"Slitter!" Mogrul cried out.

"I said this was between you and me, Mogrul," Marcus replied calmly. "I warned him. Now, are you going to pay Fethis what you owe him?"

Mogrul glared at the Imperial in the odd armor. This was no ordinary person, to be sure. He was the only one of these milk-drinkers who had dared to stand up to him, and he had to admit, he couldn't take much more of the brutalizing he was getting at this man's hands, though his opponent looked like he could have kept going for hours.

He pulled a pouch off his belt and threw it into the dirt at Marcus' feet. "There it is. Take it. Count it, you spawn." He spat his disgust at Marcus. There was blood in the spittle. "And listen, if you ever come to Raven Rock again, I'll push steel through your guts."

"I don't think so," Marcus said calmly, picking up the pouch, "because you're leaving Raven Rock on the next ship out. Go to Blacklight or go to Oblivion, I don't care, but you're to leave now and never come back…or you won't be leaving at all." The last was said in a flat tone that brooked no argument, and even Mogrul gulped at the cold look in his opponent's eyes.

Glancing around at the crowd, all eagerly waiting to see what would happen next, and finding no support there – even from the Redoran Guard – Mogrul knew when it was time to cut his losses. "Fine," he growled. "I'm leaving. You'd better hope our paths never cross again, stranger. I don't know why you'd even give a damn about these pathetic losers here, but if I ever see you again, I won't hesitate to kill you."

"I think you'd find that a lot harder than you think, Mogrul," Marcus said in a deadly quiet tone. "And the name you're looking for is Marcus of Whiterun, also known as Dragonborn."

"Dragon—" Realization hit Mogrul, and fear crept into the dull purple eyes. As quickly as he could, he got to his feet and limped over to where Slitter lay, still unmoving. He felt for a pulse, and seemed satisfied that his bodyguard still lived, because he picked the Dunmer up and slung him over his shoulder. He didn't stop to pack anything, but headed directly towards the docks.

When the two disappeared from sight, the marketplace erupted into cheers, and the patrons swarmed around Marcus to congratulate him, thank him profusely, and shake his hand. Milore Ienth even went so far as to fling her arms around his neck and hug the stuffing out of him. Turon Areth pulled off his helmet and clasped wrists with him.

"I thank you from the bottom of my heart for getting rid of that low-life!" he grinned. "I know Captain Veleth has wanted to arrest Mogrul for some time now, but we never found anything we could pin on him. Your method was much more satisfying!"

"Yeah, well, it might have been fun to watch," Marcus winced, "but it wasn't so much fun to go through. That bastard can throw a punch!" He wiped the corner of his mouth with his gauntlet and found it covered in blood. A quick healing spell set him to rights, and he realized he was still holding the pouch of coin that belonged to Fethis.

Yes…Fethis. Marcus frowned. There was a conversation that needed to be had with that particular merchant.

The smile fell off the Dunmer trader's face as Marcus approached him, glowering.

"You didn't tell me it was skooma," he accused in a low voice.

"Yes…well…it just…I mean…" Fethis floundered into silence. Nothing he could say could put that right, he knew.

"No. More. Skooma," Marcus intoned. "Ever! Understand?"

"I promise, Marcus," Fethis gulped, "as Azura is my witness, I'll never deal in that stuff again. It was only for Mogrul."

"No more!"

Fethis nodded meekly, and accepted the coin pouch from Marcus, putting it away carefully as the Dragonborn turned and strode away, leaving the celebration behind.

As he headed for the Temple, Marcus saw the Northern Maiden slipping her moorings and heading out to sea. Huddled at the stern end were two figures, an Orc and a Dunmer, gazing back at the city they once called home. Marcus didn't feel the least bit sorry for them.

Mounting the steps to the Temple, he saw Second Councilor Arano arguing with a mer who appeared to be the residing priest. He struggled to remember what Turon Areth had told him when he first arrived:

"We don't have a healer in Raven Rock. You might be able to convince Elder Othreloth at the Temple to help you, though. He's a good mer."

Othreloth! That was the priest's name!

"You wanted to speak to me, Elder?" Arano inquired, his back to Marcus.

"I did indeed," Othreloth replied, his brow knit with worry. "When are you going to do something about our central Ancestral Tomb? I can't even go down there any longer. It's getting intolerable!"

"I'm sorry, Elder," Arano sighed. "I'm doing the best I can."

"I appreciate your problems, Adril," the priest said kindly, "but I can't be expected to run a temple with those…things running around in there."

"With all due respect," Arano answered stiffly, "those 'things' aren't the only problem we have right now. Be patient, keep the door locked, and we'll get there when we can."

Othreloth looked decidedly unhappy with the answer. "Hmph!" he grunted. "Very well. I'll just have to find someone else to assist us, then."

He spotted Marcus, lingering behind the Second Councilor at the same time as Arano turned to leave.

"Ah!" Arano cried delightedly. "Marcus of Whiterun! Perhaps you might be able to help the Elder?"

"He's not Dunmer," Othreloth said flatly. "He doesn't even believe in the same gods we do. You're asking me to accept help from…from an outsider?"

"Of course not," Arano said smoothly, before Marcus could reply. "I'm asking you to be patient and wait until my men and I can look into the matter. But it might take some time."

He turned away from the Elder and gave Marcus a wink before striding down the stairs.

"Councilor!" Elder Othreloth cried. "Adril! Wait!" He sagged and heaved a sigh, eyeing Marcus suspiciously.

"I'd be happy to help you any way I can," Marcus said politely. He had dealt with querulous old men before. Diplomacy was always the best tactic. And if he used his Voice of the Emperor to cheat a little in persuading the old priest to accept his help, no one would know but him.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to let you try," Othreloth groused. "This is where we inter our dead. They are sacred places, meant to honor their passing. Sadly, we are unable to use the Ancestral Tomb beneath the Temple as of late, and have resorted to other locations to scatter the remains."

"What, exactly, is the problem?" Marcus asked.

"Ash spawn have taken over the tomb," Othreloth explained. "It's impossible to perform the proper burial rituals."

Ash spawn, eh? Marcus thought privately. Well, he'd handled those before, and he couldn't deny the ores and gems they dropped afterwards were tempting.

"I can take care of that for you," he promised Othreloth.

"Very well," the old priest agreed. "But mind you treat the tombs with respect! No looting, understand?"

Marcus was shocked, and more than a little mortified, since that's what he had been doing since he'd come to Skyrim. But this was a formal, active Tomb. Looting here was the furthest thing from his mind.

And yet he had been thinking of doing just that to the ash spawn.

Didn't Captain Veleth suggest they were created from the ancestral dead?

Struggling with his dragon soul, the avaricious part of his nature that he kept such a firm control upon, Marcus nodded. "I'll be respectful," he assured the old Dunmer. "No looting."

"Good," Othreloth smiled. "Here is the key. This should let you into the lower Tombs."

It was cool and quiet below in the tomb. The choking pall of ash wasn't as bad here, but it had still found its way in, and lay in drifted piles in the corners of the catacomb. Marcus crept in cautiously. He'd already seen how the spawn had a tendency to rise from the mounds of ash without warning. Sure enough, two of them rose from the raised berms where the cremation of the dead usually took place.

Marcus took them out quickly, resisting the temptation to pick through the ashes left behind. Two more spawn rose from the beds nearby, and two others from the far end of the mortuary.

Uh oh, this is not good, he thought. One or two ash spawn at a time, he could handle. Three or four of them at once? Now it became a problem. He used the Slow Time Shout to give him an advantage to hit more precisely and quickly, but as he took out the first two, more of the spawn were rising. He was getting swarmed. No wonder the Elders couldn't come down here!

The Dismay Shout helped a little, causing a few of them to cower at the back of the tomb, so he could concentrate on one or two at a time, but it would wear off just as several more began to emerge.

The ring he wore afforded him some protection from the constant barrage of fireballs being lobbed his way by the spawn, and he managed to gulp down one fire resistance potion he had in his belt pouch, but he was still getting roasted. Dodging between the pillars only helped a little bit, and more spawn were rising from the ashes. He needed help.

"HUN!"

He only used the first Word of the Shout. In truth, he was dodging fireballs left and right, and too busy keeping his skin intact. He also needed the faster cool-down to be able to Shout something else as soon as possible. Gormlaith Golden-Hilt stepped through the portal and assessed the situation.

"What be these foul abominations, Dragonborn?" she asked in wonder.

"They're called ash spawn, Gormlaith," he told her, shooting an Ice Spike through the midsection of one, while slicing through the arm of another. "We need to clear them out of here."

"They shall feel the wrath of my blade this day!" she announced, and drew her steel with a feral grin.

Having someone at his back made all the difference in the world. The fireballs still hurt, but Marcus found he could anticipate them coming in, and throw up a ward to take the worst of the damage. The fire seemed not to affect Gormlaith at all. She laid about her with her blade, and used both her Ice Form and Frost Breath Shouts to good effect. Marcus took his cue from her, and since he now had back-up, was able to give full voice to his thu'um.

"Thou art becoming more like Feldir, the Old," Gormlaith noted at one point, cleaving one ash spawn midway through its torso. It crumbled to ashes shortly after. "My Greybeard friend doth also use his spells as often as his sword."

Marcus felt unaccountably pleased to be compared to the ancient First Tongue.

It was perhaps another ten minutes before silence once more settled over the Ancestral Tomb.

"Thank you for the help, Gormlaith," Marcus said sincerely, clasping wrists with the Heroine.

"'Tis I who thank thee, Dragonborn," Gormlaith acknowledged. "My sword gets little use in Sovngarde, with the World Eater defeated. There is a soul among us, called Kodlak, who wishes to rally enough support to invade the Hunting Grounds, but Shor has not yet given his approval for that mission."

"I know Kodlak," Marcus grinned. "He's persistent. I'm sure he'll get his way, eventually. I can understand, though, why Akatosh wouldn't want to upset the apple cart right now." A shadow crossed his face as he thought of Tamsyn, still stuck in Apocrypha. He needed to finish up this promise to Councilor Arano so he could get back to that.

"Aye, thou hast discerned the reason Shor holds us back, Dragonborn," Gormlaith nodded, soberly. "A war with the Daedra will do no one any good, especially thy Lady. Thou must proceed with caution."

"I'm doing the best I can," Marcus said helplessly. "I guess I never realized how much I depended on his voice in my head to guide me."

"Thou art doing well, so far," Gormlaith praised him. "Use thy Shouts; explore their various uses. Expand thy knowledge of magic. The Dunmer lass, Azura, will help thee. Thou hast bought time, with thy College keeping the Arch-Mage alive, but the sands are running through the hourglass, and soon it may be too late to save her."

Marcus swallowed hard and nodded, thanking her again as she dissipated back to Sovngarde. He left the Tomb to return to Elder Othreloth.

"The Tomb is clear," he reported. "The ash spawn are gone."

"Wonderful!" the old Dunmer cried. "I really didn't think you could do it! You have my thanks, stranger. Here, take this for your trouble." A hefty coin pouch was shoved into Marcus' hands as the old priest headed inside, calling to his assistant, "Galdrus! Come! The Tomb has been cleared, and we have many rites to catch up on."

"At once, Elder!" the young Dunmer exclaimed, getting up from his place near the door. He set the book he had been reading down on his chair and followed the old priest inside. Marcus took a look inside the pouch. There was, he estimated, nearly two thousand septims inside. No wonder it was heavy! No one could say Elder Othreloth was stingy, that was for certain.

It was time, now, Marcus realized, to do what he had promised Councilor Arano. He left the main Temple and found the Ulen Ancestral Tomb, heading inside, praying to whatever Divines were listening that there was no more ash spawn inside.

There wasn't. He had the place to himself. He found a place to wait where he would not be immediately noticed and settled himself in. I should have brought a book, he thought with amusement.

As it happened, he had only been sitting an hour or so when someone entered. Marcus recognized her from a few days previous, at Milore's stall. She certainly stood out among the other Dunmer, being nearly as finely dressed as Councilor Arano.

"Tilisu Severin," Azura had told him when he'd asked. "She and her husband Vendil, and daughter Mirri, are the richest people in Raven Rock. They own that house just north of town. It's odd though, that Mirri seems to be almost as old as her father. Oh well, perhaps he's just aged well."

Tilisu didn't see him at first, but placed her ash yams on the altar and raised her hands in silent supplication to the Daedra the Dunmer worshipped. When he shifted to get a better look, she started, whirling around to face him.

"Oh! Excuse me!" she exclaimed. "I didn't realize there was anyone else here."

"I'm sorry if I startled you," Marcus smiled kindly. "What are you doing here?"

"I presume the same thing you're doing," Tilisu said drily, eyeing him suspiciously. "Leaving an offering for the departed."

"That's very generous of you," Marcus allowed. "But you aren't a member of the Ulen family. Why do it?" He watched her carefully as he spoke, but Tilisu revealed nothing in her face or her manner.

"Since there aren't any Ulens left on this island, I've taken it upon myself to leave the traditional offering in their stead," she replied in a neutral tone.

"I'm sorry to have interrupted you, then," Marcus smiled and bowed. "I'll let you get to it, then."

"Oh, no bother," Tilisu said hastily, smiling back, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "We all have a right to be here."

Marcus bowed again politely and left the Tomb, wandering back to the market, where Captain Veleth directed him to the large house just south of Glover Mallory's smithy. "That's Morvayn Manor," he told Marcus. "It's where the Councilors live, but it's also our town hall, if you want to think of it in those terms," he said. "You'll find Councilor Morvayn and Second Councilor Arano in there."

Unsure whether he should just walk in or be announced, Marcus hesitated. But as Captain Veleth had already resumed his patrol and was walking away, he shrugged and opened the door.

At the far end of the hall, which wasn't very large, Second Councilor Arano was deep in conversation with a bearded, red-haired Dunmer in fine clothing. This must be Councilor Morvayn.

"Did you look over next month's expenses, Adril?" the ruler of Solstheim asked. "Will we have enough?"

"No, Councilor," Arano admitted. "I'm afraid we're going to fall short once again."

Councilor Morvayn sighed. "Very well, cover the difference from my personal treasury."

Adril Arano cleared his throat delicately. "Your coffers are running low, Councilor. At this rate, your treasury will be empty by next winter."

Lleril Morvayn gave a weary sigh. "It doesn't matter, Adril. I'm responsible for those people, and I'll make whatever sacrifices are necessary to keep them alive."

Both mer stopped speaking as they noticed Marcus standing there, but Marcus felt himself warm to the ruler of Solstheim. He genuinely cared about his people! Now he was more determined than ever to help stop whatever assassination plot was brewing against Councilor Morvayn.

"Ah! Marcus of Whiterun!" Second Councilor Arano exclaimed. "Councilor, may I present the man who has already helped the people of Raven Rock in the short time he's been here. This is Marcus of Whiterun."

Lleril Morvayn chuckled. "Adril, you fussy bookworm! Haven't you yet recognized who this is?"

"I'm afraid I've been rather busy, Councilor," Arano said stiffly. "I don't listen to gossip, you know."

At that, Lleril threw his head back and laughed, loud and long. "Adril, this is the Dragonborn! Even I recognized the name! And even if I hadn't, who else walks around Tamriel in armor made from dragon bones?"

The Councilor turned to Marcus, still grinning, and extended his hand. "Welcome to Raven Rock, Dragonborn! I'm sorry I couldn't have arranged meeting you upon your arrival. If you had but sent word, I'm sure I could have arranged a feast in your honor."

"Thank you, Councilor Morvayn," Marcus smiled. "That's really not necessary. I prefer to travel incognito when I can."

"What brings you to Raven Rock, then?" the Councilor asked.

Marcus threw a look at Adril Arano, who shook his head ever so slightly behind his superior. So Lleril Morvayn was unaware of the plot against him? Very well.

"A Daedric Prince kidnapped my wife, and is holding her in Apocrypha," Marcus said. "The clues to rescuing her are supposed to be here on Solstheim."

Lleril's eyes widened. "A Daedric…not one of ours, surely?"

Marcus hesitated. He wasn't completely certain which Daedra the Dunmer worshipped. "It was Hermaeus Mora," he finally said. The Councilor slumped in relief.

"Oh, thank goodness!" he breathed. "I would be embarrassed to think it might be Azura, or Boethiah, or Mephala."

I wouldn't put it past Mephala, Marcus thought sourly.

"Adril, I want you to make sure that Marcus has all the resources he needs, will you?"

"Of course, Councilor," Second Councilor Arano assured him. "I don't mean to put too fine a point on it, of course, but our coffers are stretched a bit thin at the moment—"

"I don't need anything, really," Marcus hastened to assure them. "I just need the freedom to explore where I have to in order to find the clues to getting my wife back."

"Of course, of course," Lleril Morvayn smiled. "Your contributions have earned you citizenship here already, my friend," he continued. "Traveling beyond The Bulwark will be much safer as the result of your victory at Fort Frostmoth. I'll always consider you one of us." He shook Marcus' hand again warmly, and in spite of the worry on his mind, Marcus smiled back.

"Councilor, if you don't mind," Adril Arano inserted. "I would like to speak to…er…the Dragonborn, here, on a few subjects that weigh upon my mind."

"Don't let him go on too much about the security of Raven Rock," Lleril Morvayn murmured in Marcus' ear, giving him a wink as he clapped him on the shoulder before heading for the cooler environs of the rooms downstairs.

"Well?" Arano hissed as soon as Morvayn was out of earshot. "What did you learn? Did anyone come to the Ulen Tomb?"

"Tilisu Severin did," Marcus reported.

"Tilisu?" Arano blinked. "Are you sure?"

"As sure as I'm standing here," Marcus replied. "I didn't confront her. Just asked her why, if she wasn't an Ulen, she was leaving an offering at their altar."

"What did she say?"

Marcus shrugged. "That since there weren't any Ulens left in Raven Rock, she'd taken it upon herself to honor their dead." He spread his hands out helplessly. "Honestly, I can't see anything suspicious about that at all, though she did seem very wary about me."

"About you?"

"Well, yeah, considering I'm an Imperial, not a Dunmer, and I happen to be waiting in the shadows of a Dunmer family's ancestral Tomb. That's not cause for alarm at all!" This last was heavily laced with sarcasm.

"I would rather you hadn't let her see you at all," Arano frowned. "You may have tipped our hand."

"Then you should have hired someone from the Thieves' Guild to do the job," Marcus said flatly. "I don't sneak very well."

"Well, it's done," Adril Arano said. "We can't take it back now. If Tilisu's involved in any sort of plot to harm Councilor Morvayn, I'm going to need hard evidence to prove it."

"So get a search warrant and search their house," Marcus shrugged.

"This isn't Cyrodiil," Arano scowled. "We don't have Imperial Rule here. I can't just search their property on suspicion and circumstantial evidence. The Severin family is highly influential in Raven Rock, and they have shared their wealth with our community for years. If you're wrong about Tilisu, things would quickly go downhill around here, and the real culprits might slip away. I can't afford for that to happen."

Marcus frowned. "Then how do we get proof?"

From his pocket, Councilor Arano pulled a large key and passed it over to Marcus. "This key should open the front door of Severin Manor, in case they've locked it. I know you said you don't sneak very well, but for the sake of the safety of Councilor Morvayn, I'm asking you to sneak in there to see what you can learn. Do whatever it takes to find evidence of the Severin family's innocence or involvement in this matter, by whatever means necessary."

Marcus blew out a sigh. "Alright, let's just suppose for a moment that they're in it up to their eyeballs. They aren't exactly going to give up that evidence willingly."

Adril Arano gave him a somber look. "If you find the evidence, and it places your life in danger, I would expect you to do whatever you must to keep yourself alive. Good luck, Marcus!"

The Dragonborn left Morvayn Manor, frustrated and angry. He wanted to help uncover a plot – if there was one – but had expected Second Councilor Arano to send the Redoran Guard under Captain Veleth to search the Severin residence. This cloak-and-dagger crap was way out of his league. But, he reminded himself, this was Morrowind, not Skyrim, and they did things differently here. It was all a matter of saving face, he supposed.

If he searched and found nothing, the Severins would be pissed at him, and probably call for him to be punished in some manner. Councilors Morvayn and Arano could declare they knew nothing about it – at least one of them would be telling the truth – and while Arano would have his back, the worst that might happen would be he'd get banished from Raven Rock. That would make finding Tamsyn more problematic. He better hope he found something.

Marcus looked around the marketplace. The crowds had dissipated and the shops were closing up. His stomach growled alarmingly and he realized he couldn't remember how long it had been since he'd eaten. He decided to remedy that oversight before tackling the pressing issue of the Severins.

Inside the Netch, several more patrons came up to him, thanking him for dealing with Mogrul. Even Geldis waved off his money, telling him his meal was "on the house."

"I've been trying to keep that fetcher out of my place for months, now," he told Marcus as he set a steaming bowl of horker stew in front of him. "He actually threatened me at one point! Me! In my own place! Stupid n'wah! You let me know if you need anything else, Marcus!" he smiled before hurrying off to fetch drinks for his other patrons.

Marcus ate quietly, alone in his corner, having little desire for company at the moment.

"Marcus? Are you there?"

It was Azura, contacting him through his ear-bud.

"I'm here, Azura," he murmured quietly, tapping his earring. "What's up?"

"I just wondered if you've started out for Tel Mithryn yet?"

"Not yet," he admitted. "Something's come up."

"Oh?" she queried. "Do I need to come back?"

"Where are you now?" he countered.

"I've just reached Fort Frostmoth," she replied. "But I can come back if you need me."

She was already over half-way to Tel Mithryn. "No, no," he said hastily. "It's nothing I can't handle. Just checking something out for Councilor Arano. I'll head your way when I'm done here."

"Alright, if you're sure," she replied, though there was doubt, and perhaps a hint of wistfulness in her voice.

In point of fact, Marcus really didn't want her to see him breaking and entering a private residence to look for evidence that might or might not actually be there.

"I'm sure," he said quietly, injecting a lighter tone into his voice by smiling as he spoke. "This shouldn't take me too much longer. I should be at Tel Mithryn by morning."

"I'll see you then!"

The connection was severed, and Marcus was alone with his thoughts again.

He waited a little longer, trying one of Geldis' special sujammas that Azura liked so much, and discovered it tasted quite a bit like rum. It wasn't bad, but a little went a long way and he declined a second flask. He needed a clear head.

Finally, he knew he could put it off no longer. He was procrastinating – a trait he found irritating in others.

Let's just do this and get it over with, Marcus, he told himself, and left the Retching Netch, heading north past the smithy and the apothecary shop to the lone mansion situated at the northern edge of town.

Like several other buildings in Raven Rock, including the Retching Netch, it looked like some kind of insect carapace resting on top of an ash-covered hill. Wooden pilings fortified one side of the hill – the side closest to town – to keep the sand and ash from spilling back down and burying Milore's shop from behind. Flagged stones made up a walkway to the front door, set in the face of the curved, sectioned walls of the building. There were no windows, and no other entrances.

Marcus was half-way tempted to just knock on the door and wait for someone to answer, but what could he have said that would have given him access to the interior? And indeed, if he had gotten inside, what excuses could he give that would have allowed him search for evidence? He didn't even know what he was looking for! Angry with Adril Arano again for not doing this himself, Marcus crouched in the shadows of the doorway until the Redoran patrol walked past and disappeared into the night before unlocking the door as quietly as he could and pushing it open just wide enough to slip inside.

"You never should have come here!"

Uh oh!

An Ice Spike caught Marcus in his midsection, and he grunted against the stabbing cold. Searching the gloom inside, he saw the silhouettes of Tilisu and her daughter, Mirri, poised and waiting, weapons drawn and magic in hand. They stood to one side of the central stairs that led to the lower level. An abstract part of his brain registered that they didn't really look very much alike, for being mother and daughter.

Mirri rushed him, and he quickly Fus'd her to give himself time to draw his own blade.

"Ladies, we don't have to do this!" he cajoled, making one attempt to reason with them. But he sincerely doubted it would have any effect. They had been waiting for him – for someone – to come tonight to confront them. It was as clear an admission of guilt as he was likely to get. Tilisu had to have suspected him from the moment he startled her in the Tomb. Why else would an Imperial be waiting there, lurking in the shadows? Certainly not to make an offering of ash yams to the Daedra for the soul of a dead Dunmer.

"You will never leave here alive!" Mirri screamed as she rushed him again, and Marcus found himself fighting for his life against two Dunmer women determined to end it. He was at a distinct disadvantage, and he knew it: he was fighting two unarmored women, and while he had been in Skyrim long enough to know the women fought as well or better than the men, he had been born and raised in a world that had taught him to respect the feminine gender, and to protect rather than hurt them.

All that went out the non-existent windows when Mirri drew first blood. It burned like fire, and he knew then her blade was poisoned. From the tail of his eye he could see Tilisu working her way around the stairs, passing in front of the fireplace at the far end of the room, in an attempt to flank him. He couldn't give her that chance.

With a swift gesture, Marcus summoned forth a ghostly wolf and sent it after her. He hadn't called upon a familiar to fight for him in battle in a long time. In point of fact, he'd almost forgotten he knew the spell until Azura had put him through his paces when he first arrived in Raven Rock.

Wolfie didn't last long against Tilisu and she was coming around the stairs once more. Marcus was alternately blocking Mirri's deadly blade with his own, or throwing flames in her face to make her back up and give him room to maneuver in the tight confines of the first floor room.

"FEIM!" he Shouted, and slipped past Mirri, who slashed ineffectually at him. He leaped over the low wall to the stairs below and headed into the interior of the house, with Tilisu and Mirri screeching in rage above his head.

Below stairs, it was more open, and Marcus felt himself already solidifying as the women came down the stairs towards him. He caught both of them with a couple of well-placed lightning bolts to buy himself time while the tightness in his throat eased until he could Shout again.

Tilisu sent a blast of ice storm his way, but he saw it coming and ducked around the corner into what appeared to be a smithy. The temperature plummeted, but at least he had avoided the brunt of it. The slash where Mirri had caught him was still burning, and he was feeling slightly sick, but he couldn't think about that now. They were coming down the stairs, and he had a feeling they weren't going to hold back on the magic.

Right on cue, Mirri swung out wide from the corner to give her mother a chance to cast another ice storm, but Marcus was ready and put up his ward, which buckled under the onslaught, but held long enough to take the brunt of the blast. He launched another lightning bolt at Tilisu and feinted at Mirri, grinning ferally as she fell for the feint and he sliced her arm open from shoulder to elbow. She screamed, but merely flipped her weapon to her other hand and came at him again.

Crap. She's ambidextrous?

Tilisu launched another Icy Spear which caught Marcus in the side, and he felt the area instantly go numb. It would be several minutes before he'd be able to get the feeling back into it, and that was several minutes he didn't have, judging from the intensity with which both mother and daughter were fighting. He wished, not for the first time, that he still had Alduin's Bane to use with his preferred dual-weapon style. Magic was all very well and good, but he wasn't as good at it as his opponent, and he wasn't doing enough damage with it.

Wait! I have another sword! He'd never used it since Tamsyn had taught him the spell, but there was no time like the present.

Still blocking Mirri's attacks with his right hand, and dodging Tilisu's Ice Spikes around the forge, Marcus concentrated as best he could and gestured with his left. At first, he was afraid it hadn't worked, that he didn't have enough magicka to bring it into existence, but suddenly the flaming, ethereal blue sword erupted into his hand and he gave a satisfied grin. This was his kind of magic!

Dismay creased Mirri's face as she realized she now had to guard against a flurry of attacks. With her one arm hanging limp and useless at her side, she was doubly-pressed to keep Marcus from doing her any further injury. She fell back, attempting to draw Marcus in, but he wasn't that gullible.

"ZUN HAAL VIIK!" Marcus Shouted, as Tilisu moved forward, drawing her own sword. Both hers and Mirri's sword went flying across the chamber, clattering on the floor somewhere out in the hall.

"Surrender now," Marcus told them, lowering his blade.

"Never!" Tilisu spat with venom. She launched another Icy Spear which caught Marcus full in the face.

It was like the worst ice-cream headache he'd ever had in his lives. Groaning, he stumbled back, seeing prismed images of the two Dunmer women advancing upon his position. Their faces were twisted with rage and hate, and cruel amusement at his predicament.

Mirri drew a dagger from her belt, and Tilisu cupped her hands to deliver a dual-cast something at him, but he didn't wait to find out what. He tumbled across the forge, hoping the heat would melt the Icy Spear enough so he could see clearly, and lashed out half-blinded with both conjured blade and Akaviri where he knew the two women had been standing.

A shriek met his ears and he felt resistance as Dragonbane cut through something – or someone – but he didn't stop to find out what. Still tumbling, he heard the whistle of air where his head had been seconds before as he rushed past the women and made it to the hall. The heat of the forge helped, and his vision cleared a bit, though he still had the headache. He saw Tilisu crumpled on the ground, clutching her stomach as blood pooled around her, attempting to keep her intestines from spilling out onto the floor.

Mirri was coming up fast and Marcus had had enough. It was still too soon to Shout again so he did the next best thing; he cast a lightning bolt straight to her face and watched her writhe in agony as her muscles seized up. He finished her off before she could suffer further. Approaching Tilisu cautiously, he waited. She didn't look at him.

"Kill me now," she said in a dull voice. "I will tell you nothing!"

"I think I'll call in the Redoran Guard instead," he replied calmly, having no stomach to kill anyone, especially a woman, in cold blood – even if she had been trying to kill him just moments before.

"Then I will have to do it myself," Tilisu said, and pulled a small vial from her pocket. Before he could stop her, she brought it swiftly to her mouth, grabbing the cork with her teeth and spitting it out before gulping the contents.

"Curse you, and curse Lleril Morvayn!" she gurgled as she died, her face contorted in a rictus of pain.

Marcus sheathed his blade. He stood for a long moment and stared at the two bodies, half-way tempted himself to curse both Councilor Morvayn and Second Councilor Arano for putting him through this. In death, the two women looked even less like mother and daughter than they had in life. He sighed, pulled off his helmet and ran a hand through his hair. The deaths of the two women wouldn't stop whatever plot was unfolding. He had not finished what he came here to do. Turning his back on the deceased, he began to systematically search the rest of the house.

The layout underground was fairly simple: the smithy was the first chamber to the right at the bottom of the stairs. Just past this was another chamber set up with an arcane enchanter. Several weapon plaques hung on the walls, but they were empty. On the floor against the walls of the room, however, were several baskets filled with empty soul gems. By now, Marcus was familiar enough with them to be able to tell if they were filled or not.

On the left side of the hall were two other chambers. The first one had a door, and proved to be a spare bedroom. This must have been Mirri's. The one next to that was another open chamber set up as an alchemy lab, and the barrels and shelves around the room were filled with alchemical ingredients.

The main chamber at the end of the hall appeared to be the master bedroom. Upon first entering, Marcus was startled by several figures standing near the door, until he realized in the dimness that they were actually armor mannequins, such as he had in his homes back in Skyrim. Weapon racks, plaques and display cases were also scattered around the room, but except for some unremarkable steel weaponry, a few gems and a handful of humanoid skulls, the cases were empty. The bookcase along the right side of the room was empty, as were the three unlocked chests he found. The bed seemed nothing more than a large plank of wood with a scattering of animal pelts on top, similar to the so-called "bed" he rented at the Netch. It didn't look any more comfortable, either.

The safe in the far left corner of the room, however, looked more promising, and he found it locked up as tight as a tick. Several attempts to get it open with the few picks he had in his beltpouch only resulted in a pile of broken picks on the floor and a frustrated, irritated Dragonborn. He blew out a breath, thinking hard. On a whim, he went back to the bodies of the two women, and was moderately pleased to find a key on Mirri's body that opened the safe.

Inside, tucked under several pouches of gold, gems and jewelry, was a letter, carefully folded up and sealed with wax. Marcus broke the seal and opened the letter. It was dated only two days previous.

"Dear Councilor Saldin," Marcus read. "In a matter of days I believe we'll be ready. Our forces hidden within Ashfallow Citadel have been training night and day, ready to strike when we give the signal. With Captain Veleth distracted by the ash spawn attacks, the timing seems perfect. I've waited nearly a decade to exact my revenge upon Lleril Morvayn for the death of my ancestor and I long for the moment my blade will be drawn across his throat. The next letter you'll receive from me will include his head in a sack. Display it proudly in the halls of House Hlaalu, brother."

It was signed, 'Vendil Ulen.'

"Ulen?" Marcus muttered aloud, his voice sounding hollow in the empty room. "Vendil Ulen, not Severin. Interesting…" He quickly folded up the letter and placed it in his belt pouch, taking nothing else from the safe. This needed to get to Second Councilor Arano right away.

He left Severin Manor, carefully locking the door behind him, and headed for Morvayn Manor. It was late, but he somehow had the feeling Adril Arano would still be awake.

He wasn't wrong.

"And you say you found this letter in the safe?" Arano asked him, after listening to Marcus' account of what had happened.

"Yeah," Marcus nodded. "It looks like the Severins weren't who they pretended to be."

"Then we finally have them!" Arano exulted. "All that remains now is chasing them down, and bringing them to justice!"

"I'm guessing they're not just going to come along quietly," Marcus said ruefully, remembering the Icy Spear he'd taken to the face. His head still ached.

"I'll have Captain Veleth send two of our best Redoran Guard to Ashfallow Citadel to deal with them," Arano replied, jotting a few lines down on parchment and handing it to one of the guards standing near the door. He murmured some quiet words of urgency and the guard left with the note. Arano turned back to Marcus. "I want you to assist them in any way you can."

"What, me?" Marcus blinked. He was almighty tired now, and still had to head back to Tel Mithryn to meet up with Azura. Time was ticking away while his beloved Tamsyn languished in Apocrypha. "You have an entire Bulwark of Redoran Guard you can spare. It's not that I wouldn't like to, but—"

"I know I've already imposed on you, Marcus," Arano cajoled, "but after all, you are the Dragonborn, as Councilor Morvayn has enlightened me. Isn't this sort of thing right in your bailiwick?"

"Ordinarily, but—"

"And I can't think of anyone else I would trust to help save Lleril Morvayn's life. Raven Rock needs him here as ruler."

Sensing he wasn't going to get out of this, Marcus caved.

"Fine," he sighed. "Just show me where I need to go." He pulled his map out of his backpack.


As much as Marcus prided himself on his inherent sense of direction, he still found himself turned around once he'd gotten past the old Attius Farm where he and Azura had first met Captain Veleth. It didn't help that the wind had kicked up an ash storm, obscuring the sky and preventing him from seeing the stars clearly. He turned left instead of right and found himself at a somewhat familiar sight: the circular ridged mound of a Nordic burial tomb. In Skyrim, those mounds had also indicated a dragon mound, but this was the first one he'd seen in Solstheim, so he had no idea if the ancient Dragon Priests had buried dead dragons in this manner after the Dragon Wars.

This mound, however, had been partially excavated, and it appeared the archeologist was still here.

"Who's there!" a wiry Dunmer demanded, dagger at the ready.

"Hold on," Marcus soothed. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just a little lost. I'm trying to get to Ashfallow Citadel."

Still wary, the Dunmer sniffed. "Ashfallow Citadel? That place was picked over a century ago. Why would you want to go there?"

"Well, not to be rude or anything," Marcus drawled, "but that's my business. Can you point me in the right direction? This ash storm has me turned around. I'm not even sure where I am."

"You'd better sit down until it passes, then, friend," the little mer said, sheathing his blade. He gestured toward his camp, set to one side of the barrow. A tent had been pitched there, and a small campfire was guttering in the pit he'd dug to protect it from the wind. Nearby a log table had been set up, with bits of broken crockery and metal findings scattered across it. "I'm Ralis Sedarys, by the way," he added, by way of introduction. "I'm from Mournhold. I've got a financier waiting for me back on the mainland. Sent me here in the interests of obtaining some rare antiquities. The 'Relics of Ahzidal,' he called them. But this whole thing became a disaster right quick, let me tell you."

"Oh?" Marcus queried, lifting an eyebrow. He settled himself onto the rug Ralis indicated and cast a healing spell on his lungs. He'd been feeling short of breath since the storm began. Here they were still out in the open, but the surrounding rocks and hills afforded them a small measure of protection from the brunt of the wind's fury. "What happened?" he asked Ralis now.

Ralis gave a mirthless snort. "You know, you come out to the northern ashlands, you don't expect things to go easy, you know? But this was something outside my particular expertise. When I first got to Kolbjorn – that's this ruin, by the way – you couldn't even see it. Buried in the ash, like most other things on this blasted island. Dug out a pile of the stuff taller than me just to find the barrow. Who knows how much to reach the door. Excavating isn't exactly my specialty. Even if it was, the ash storms, like this one now, fill it in faster than you can dig."

"Sounds like you could use some help," Marcus sympathized. "I know there are a whole bunch of workers in Raven Rock that used to labor in the mine. Why not hire some of them?"

Ralis gave him a dour look. "You think I've got that kind of money?" He snorted derisively again. "No, I get paid on delivery. Can't afford to go out of pocket for a thousand septims on this. Takes money to hire money, and all that rot. There's a lot of it at the other end, but I can't get there without a little kick to start it off."

"What exactly is it that you're looking for in this…Kolbjorn Barrow?" Marcus asked.

Ralis considered him for several heartbeats, as if deciding just how much he should confide in a complete stranger. Marcus gave him a winning smile. Ralis didn't return it, but a calculating look came into his eyes.

"You ever hear of Ahzidal?" he asked. Marcus shook his head. "He was the first great Nord enchanter. Maybe even the first human to master elven methods."

"Really?" Marcus mused. "I wonder if my wife knew that. She's a mage," he added to Ralis' lifted eyebrow.

"Ah," was all the Dunmer said to that. "Anyway, Ahzidal's best work was buried with him, so it's said. It was a set that my patron calls 'the Relics,' and they're supposed to be buried down in his tomb. Now, they're old, and they're powerful. A combination like that makes them pretty valuable to certain people, and I happen to know certain people."

Several things had been kicking around in Marcus' mind while Ralis had been talking. First, he was reminded of Enthir, Brynjolf and Dante Greyshadow. Each of them were rogues and rascals in their own right. Ralis would have fit very well in their company. Secondly, where there were Nordic barrows, there was often a Word Wall of some kind. Marcus couldn't pass up the opportunity to learn a new Word. It might even be one that could help him against Miraak. Since he couldn't take the time to dig out the barrow on his own, and Ralis was already motivated to find his artifacts, why not offer to fund the excavation and hurry the progress along?

"You know," he said now, conversationally, "I might be interested in investing in your little venture here, for a share of the spoils, of course." He really wasn't interested in the artifacts Ralis was looking for. Gold, gems or magical items he could sell for a profit to offset the expense of the expedition were more than compensation for finding another rotmulag. But if he didn't ask for a share of the profits, Ralis might take him for a fool – and Marcus was nobody's fool.

"Really?" Ralis drawled, not really believing him. "I don't suppose you have a thousand gold, just sitting around, do you? Because that's what it's going to take—" His voice broke off as a hefty pouch clinked into the dust at his feet, kicking up a pile of ash. He scooped it up quickly and opened it, assessing its contents with a practiced eye. "Hmm…it's all here. Well, then – Partner – looks like I have a good bit of work to start on. I'll head back to Raven Rock in the morning and round up some diggers. Once we've got something worth looking at, I'll send word to you. Feel free to stay here tonight," he offered. "The wind will probably blow itself out by morning. It usually does."

"No thanks," Marcus declined. "I need to keep moving. Which direction is Ashfallow Citadel?"

"That way," Ralis said, gesturing with the hand holding the coin pouch. "Then I'll just say it's a pleasure doing business with you, Partner. I'll see you soon."

Marcus bid the little Dunmer farewell and headed off in the direction Ralis had pointed.

The ash storm indeed blew itself out before morning, but Marcus felt weary, gritty and thoroughly disgruntled. Ash hoppers were annoying, ash spawn were too persistent, and he somehow stumbled into another spriggan grove he didn't know was there. Not only did the Matron take a dim view of this, but so did all the wildlife in the area, including a cave bear that should have been easy enough to fight, but not while he was fending off fireballs from the spriggan matron. Even a normally harmless fox advanced on him, darting in and out between his feet, attempting to trip him up. He hated having to kill it, but it wouldn't go away.

On top of all of this, he was attacked by not one, but two dragons. They were lesser-types – privately he thought of them as juveniles – but they refused to back down, and he was forced to kill them both, relieved when Miraak didn't show up to take their souls. It seemed the First Dragonborn was only interested in stealing the souls of the more powerful dragons. Marcus immediately unlocked mul and qah – "strength" and "armor" – and knew them to belong to the same Shout, Dragon Aspect.

The sun was already in the sky when he was only halfway to Ashfallow, and Azura contacted him again through his earring stud.

"Marcus! Where are you? I thought you were coming back to Tel Mithryn this morning?"

Marcus sat down on an ash-covered log to catch his breath and concentrate on the call.

"Ah, yeah," he said breathlessly. "Change of plans. It turns out there is an assassination plot against Councilor Morvayn, and I'm on my way to Ashfallow Citadel to stop them before they can launch their attack."

There was silence for a long moment; so long, in fact, Marcus thought he'd lost contact with Azura and tapped the ear bud. "Are you there?" he asked.

"What have you gotten yourself into?" Azura sighed. It was so much the sort of thing Tamsyn would have said that Marcus burst out laughing. "I don't think this is funny, Marcus!" she scolded, making him laugh harder. He struggled to get himself under control.

"No, it isn't," he agreed, still chuckling. "But you have to understand that this sort of thing happens to me all the time."

"I knew traveling with you would be interesting," Azura replied, and there was a hint of amusement in her voice as well. "Where are you now?"

"About halfway to Ashfallow from Kolbjorn Barrow," he replied.

"Kolbjorn?" There was silence again, as if Azura was frantically trying to figure out where Kolbjorn was.

"Long story," Marcus told her. "I won't go into it now. I should get to Ashfallow in about three more hours at the rate I'm going."

"I know where Ashfallow is," Azura said. "It will take me about the same amount of time to get there from here. I'll meet you."

"What about Neloth?" Marcus asked. "Did he come back?"

"He's back," Azura replied. "He's got information, but it can wait. You can't go into a den full of assassins with no one at your back. Wait for me!"

She ended the connection without giving him a chance to protest. Shaking his head, Marcus got up and continued on his way to Ashfallow, knowing she was right, and knowing he would, indeed wait for her.

What remained of Ashfallow Citadel was a broken-down, ash-choked tumble of a motte and bailey with drifts of sand and cinders practically filling the inner courtyard to the level of the walls which once surrounded the central stone tower. Indeed, the western section had completely collapsed under the crushing weight of volcanic ash, and the top of the tower was buried under a similar geologic crown. Through the southern archway, which no longer boasted a defensive gate, a pathway could be seen leading directly to the tower, and the only way into the interior, a weather-beaten iron-clad wooden door.

"Not much about the place to recommend it, is there?" Marcus murmured to Azura. She had been waiting for him as promised several yards south of the Citadel, having reached the place before him. He might have made it there first, but another lesser dragon had attacked him along the way and he had had to dispatch it first. He had waited tensely after it died until the soul had settled in him, and only then had he breathed a sigh of relief that Miraak hadn't come and stolen it from him.

He still had one Word he could unlock – ven, which meant "wind" – but knowing there were still two parts of the Bend Will Shout he didn't know, and one more Word to Dragon Aspect, Marcus decided to hang onto the one spare soul he had just gained.

"Like most of the southern part of Solstheim," Azura put in quietly, "Ashfallow Citadel took a brutalizing from the explosion of the Red Mountain."

"We passed by this place on our way to the Beast Stone," Marcus observed. "I remember now, seeing it from the other side."

"Where are the Redoran Guard?" Azura asked, peering through the haze. "I thought you said Councilor Arano sent some here. They must have gotten here by now."

Marcus looked again, but couldn't see many details from the distance they were situated. "I don't know," he said, concerned. He sent out his Aura Whisper and noted two figures closer to the top of the stairs that led up to the entrance, but the red blobs didn't tell him if they were friend or foe.

"See anything?" Azura asked.

"Two," Marcus answered, "but if they were Redoran Guard, I would have thought they'd have gone inside by now to rout out the rest of the assassins."

"Unless they're waiting for you," she pointed out.

Marcus shrugged. That was possible, but something still didn't feel quite right.

"We'd better get closer," he said finally, keeping to a crouch as he worked his way down the slope to the stairs that led up to the Citadel.

He found the body of the first Redoran Guard at the foot of the stairs and grimly turned it over for Azura to see. She put her hand to her mouth in dismay, at the precise butchering the mer had suffered. Near the first landing, they found the second, and Marcus' heart dropped in his chest when he saw the Dunmer's face.

Turon Areth's blank eyes stared into infinity.

"Oh, no!" Azura whispered, choking back a sob.

The assassins were on them without warning, and suddenly Marcus and Azura found themselves fighting for their lives. The Bosmer mage seemed to know what they were immediately.

"Be careful, Marcus!" she called out. "These are Morag Tong assassins. They're deadly!"

Marcus had dealt with assassins before. In the days before he had taken out the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary in Falkreath, and before Cicero had become his own sworn Dark Brother, he had been attacked by a handful of Astrid's lackeys. In addition to these, he had dealt with Thalmor Justiciars and more recently, some of Miraak's fanatical followers. He was no stranger to professional murderers.

As he fought his opponent now, he studied him. Their armor was similar to the chitin-type armor Marcus had seen on some reavers, but rather than just bits and pieces, they were clad head to foot in the tough, resilient, insectoid armor. Goggles had been set into the helmet above a cloth filter-like mask to protect them from blowing ash and sand. They wielded keened swords of elven design with fatal precision, and Marcus was hard-pressed to keep that deadly weapon from finding the weak points on his dragonbone armor.

The two assassins spoke not a word, concentrating solely on taking out the two trespassers. Azura lobbed off one ice spell after another, while using Grave to keep her opponent at bay. Marcus brought his conjured sword into being once more and used his Marked for Death Shout to soften up both assassins. When the tightness in his throat eased, he used Disarm, but his opponent was too strong, and never lost his grip on his weapon.

Azura managed to hit the one she'd been fighting with her paralysis spell and – unable to resist – he went down for several seconds. It was long enough for her to finish him off. She couldn't get a clear shot at the other, however, as he kept using his knowledge of the layout of the Citadel to his advantage with respect to finding cover, or keeping the high ground, or keeping Marcus between himself and Azura.

Inwardly, Marcus was raging. Turon was dead, killed by this sonofabitch, or one of his allies. If he hadn't gotten lost, if he hadn't wandered into that spriggan grove, if the dragons hadn't attacked, he could have been here sooner. He might have been able to save Turon. If…if…if…

He knew losing his temper in battle was the worst possible thing he could do. He'd learned that early on, in his first months in Skyrim. Now, he channeled that fury into his attack routine, making his strikes more deadly, his thu'um more precise, and the few spells he cast more powerful. Though he couldn't see the mer's face behind the mask, he sensed the assassin was having doubts about his ability to take down the enraged Imperial facing him, and Marcus smiled grimly. Good. Part of him – his dragon part – wanted to prolong the assassin's agony, make him feel what Turon must have felt before he died. He wanted this assailant to know what fear felt like as his life-force was slowly but surely snuffed from him.

But the greater part of Marcus – the man he was and had always been, the good man he always tried to be – just wanted to end this as quickly as possible so that he could get back to the more important issue of finding his wife. He saw an opening and took it, cutting through the assassin's defenses and ending his life far more swiftly than the murderer had done for Turon or his companion.

Numbly, Marcus sheathed his blades without thinking about the conjured one. It winked out as he lowered his hands. He retreated down the steps to where Azura knelt next to Turon's body. Tears were tracing their way down her cheeks, leaving rivulets of pale skin where her green face paint had been.

"I…I can't believe he's gone," she whispered brokenly. "What do we do? Leave him here?"

"For now we'll have to," Marcus insisted. "We have to take out the rest of them. We don't leave any of them alive, understand?" I will avenge you, Turon Areth, he vowed silently. I will make them pay for this.

Azura nodded, and murmured a prayer to her namesake for the souls of the two departed Redoran Guard before rising to follow Marcus.

They had to push hard against the door of the tower to get it open. Ash and sand had drifted against it from inside, and it became immediately apparent that part of the ceiling overhead had collapsed at the far northern end of the tower. Marcus was quietly grateful that no ash spawn erupted from the banks of debris.

There was a room to their left which was mostly filled with ash. A bookshelf next to the entrance held another of those East Empire strongboxes, and Marcus took a few moments to jimmy the lock open and claim its contents, which included another pendant. He gave that one to Azura. A curving staircase led down, and they dropped to a crouch to head below stairs. Marcus kept Dragonbane in one hand and a lightning bolt in the other. Aura Whisper revealed one Morag Tong in a room at the bottom of the stairs, whom Marcus and Azura had no trouble taking out quickly and quietly, having acquired the element of surprise.

From there they found a tunnel hewn out of the rock which opened into a properly-constructed underground hallway. The tunnel must have been some kind of work-around to get to this section when the main part of the tower collapsed. Marcus used his Aura Whisper again to pinpoint the warm bodies they needed to be aware of. One of them was quite close, and Azura hit the woman with a paralyze spell, knocking her down and finishing her off without so much as a squeak. Marcus nodded in approval.

Ahead the corridor was blocked by a set of iron spikes. Somewhere nearby there would be a switch or lever that would lower them, but they would need to find it. Aura Whisper showed Marcus two assassins on their side of the spikes and three more just beyond it. Any altercation might bring all five down on them at once, and those were odds Marcus didn't like. There was an open door to their right, and just past a pillar on the left was another door, where Marcus had spotted the glowing life-forms of two of the five Morag Tong.

He motioned quietly to Azura to follow him into the room on the right-hand side, and they quickly slipped in before anyone noticed. This room appeared to be some sort of barracks, and the shelves around the room contained books, minor potions, extra armor and bits of food left behind from someone's last meal. At the back of the room Marcus found a safe and managed to get it open. It contained a fair amount of gold, gems and jewelry, which he motioned Azura to take and hold on to. A couple pieces of jewelry radiated magic, but he couldn't take the time at the moment to sit down and try to figure out what they were good for. Besides, he doubted they would be stronger than anything Tamsyn could make for him.

They headed back to the corridor, with Marcus making a mental note to look at the books before they left. Some dragons hoarded gold. He hoarded books. I'm a bookwyrm, he thought with some irony.

Peering out into the corridor, Marcus could see the assassin who had been hidden behind the pillar before. Beyond the iron spikes blocking the corridor, he could see at least three more of the Morag Tong waiting along the walls. It wouldn't take much to stir them all up like an angry hornet's nest. They needed stealth.

Azura tugged gently at his arm and he withdrew back into the room to face her.

"I could paralyze him," she suggested in a breathy whisper.

"No," Marcus murmured, shaking his head. "Too much risk one of the others would notice when we come up there to finish him off. We need to drop him in one."

"I could get him with an Icy Spear."

"That's good, but it might not be good enough," Marcus replied. "These guys are tough."

"How are your archery skills?" she asked. In point of fact, she already knew Marcus was pretty darn good with his bow. She'd seen him using it on distant targets and dragons.

"It may be the best option," he admitted, though he hated the possibility that it might not be good enough to drop the assassin in one shot. He shrugged his dragonbone bow off his back and nocked an arrow. This was actually the second dragonbone bow he'd owned. The first was one he'd managed to retrieve from one of the Keepers in the Soul Cairn before it had dissolved into a puddle of goo after he killed it. This one had been a gift from Blaise on his last birthday, a test of how far he'd come as a Smith in so short a time. Marcus had given his other bow to Alesan.

Crouching, and edging out into the corridor just a little further, Marcus let fly with his arrow, watching in satisfaction as it sank up to its fletching in the Morag Tong's throat. He slumped without so much as a gurgle. Marcus held his breath and waited, but the other assassins didn't appear to notice. He gestured to Azura.

"Come on," he whispered. "There's one in the room across the corridor."

Azura fired off a quick Muffle spell, and Marcus noted obliquely that she appeared to know the same trick Tamsyn did about casting spells quietly, so that no one could hear it go off. That was good, because by his own admission, Marcus knew he didn't sneak very well.

The assassin at the alchemy lab in this room never heard Marcus come up behind her to slit her throat. She slumped heavily over the arcane enchanter next to the lab while Azura found a chain to pull that would lower the iron spikes and allow them to pass. They didn't get far, however. The corridor rose slightly and was blocked not much further along by interlocking sets of iron spikes. Marcus gave an inward sigh of frustration. Against the right-hand wall another Morag Tong assassin lounged, ostensibly keeping watch, but in reality he was partially dozing.

His cry was cut short as Marcus put his gauntleted hand over the mer's mouth and shoved the Akaviri blade between his ribs. Noise from the far end of the corridor reached them.

"What was that?"

"Did you hear something?"

Azura tugged on Marcus' arm and together they dragged the dead man back to the enchanting room and waited there, scarcely daring to breathe. Footsteps came closer, but no further than the iron bar barricade.

"I was sure I heard something," a woman's voice said.

"You're imagining things," a man scoffed. "There's nothing there now."

"Maybe we should go look—"

"We still have too much to do," he overrode her. "Tilisu and Mirri will be here shortly with their report and then the final phase of our plan will begin. We must be ready."

The woman's voice faded as the footsteps retreated. "If you say so, Vendil…"

"Vendil?" Azura breathed. "Vendil Severin? He's involved in this plot?"

"He's really Vendil Ulen, I've learned," Marcus whispered. "At least, that's how he signed the note I found in their safe."

Azura gave him a long, searching look. "You're going to tell me everything when this is over, okay?"

Marcus gave a low chuckle. "You know, I've said the same thing to my wife, many times."

His companion gave him another look, as if making sure she wasn't being teased, then pulled on the chain near the door. They heard the hiss of finely oiled iron bars retreating into the walls and floor beyond the confines of the enchanting room.

Peering around the door, Marcus could see that the barricade had indeed come down, but another set blocked progress down the corridor a dozen feet further on.

"Not paranoid, are they?" Azura muttered.

"I think there might be a way around it over there," Marcus said in a low voice, pointing across the hall where a short corridor led off to the side. "Wait here. I'll see what I can find."

"You've got one minute, and then I'm following," Azura warned him, and he nodded.

The side corridor actually turned out to be a small room with pillars and barrels set up to obstruct progress to the pull chain on the far wall. The floor was littered with old-fashioned bear traps that Marcus had no intention of setting off if he could help it. The hair-trigger sensitivity of the traps would cause them to snap shut with a resounding clang with the slightest jostling. For a full minute, Marcus picked his way through, rather like playing Twister in his old life. Just as he reached the wall with the chain, Azura appeared in the doorway.

"What's keeping—oh!" she gasped as she pinwheeled to keep from stepping on the first trap.

"Careful!" Marcus hissed. "They'll hear it if we set just one of these off!"

"I heard more voices up ahead," she told him quietly as he pulled the chain. "There's another room off to the left, just beyond the bars, but before the room at the end. I think there are more Morag Tong in there."

"It doesn't matter," Marcus said grimly. "They all die."

"For Turon," she agreed. "And for Councilor Morvayn."

Marcus gave a short nod. It felt different this time. When he had destroyed the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary in Falkreath, years ago, he had thought he'd done a good thing. But after meeting Cicero, he had begun to wonder if it had been such a smart idea after all. It had been pointed out to him that assassins very often do the jobs that politicians cannot and should not do. Not that he was a politician. He was a trouble-shooter. It was what he had always been, and it was something he knew how to do. That it translated to this life as well was simply a bonus.

He felt no such conflict now. The Morag Tong was an unknown faction over which he had no control or influence. Even Cicero hated them with a passion that was almost holy. It was in the Empire's best interests to keep Councilor Morvayn in charge on Solstheim. If that meant wiping out the representatives of the Morag Tong here, then so be it.

But it needed to be done quietly. The Tong were formidable fighters, as they had found out already. Handling them in twos and threes were challenging enough, and the closer they came to the end of the hall where their leader laired, the more problematic it would become. If Vendil Ulen had half a brain, he'd gather the rest of his forces and investigate what was making so much racket the moment they engaged whomever was in the next room.

It turned out to be some sort of fighting arena, like a boxing ring, and there were two Morag Tong assassins sparring in the center. They stopped and separated when Marcus and Azura entered.

"You never should have come here!" one of them exclaimed. Marcus cringed at the volume with which he spoke, certain they couldn't have failed to hear that in the next room. He turned and shot a Muffle spell at the doorway, hoping it would work the way he hoped it would. When Tamsyn used it, it was more of a personal spell, making her more silent. Now, he only hoped it would buy them time while they dealt with the immediate threat.

Azura said nothing, but shot one with a paralysis spell that he shrugged off, drawing a wicked-looking Daedric blade.

"Eep!" Azura yelped, limning herself with her Ironflesh spell before drawing Sting and Grave.

Marcus drew Dragonbane and launched an Ice Spike into the midsection of the other assassin, but the woman leaped and twisted, avoiding the attack completely. Her tumble took her closer to Marcus, and she leaped again, avoiding the slash of his blade to come up behind him and strike targeted areas with her hands: his elbow, the unprotected armpit, the back of his knees.

Numbness spread through him as he realized she had effectively launched a martial attack against an armed enemy. Dragonbane dropped from his nerveless fingers, and he buckled to his knees. Stunned, he barely avoided the roundhouse kick she aimed at his head. In the five years since he had come to Skyrim, he had never fought an opponent who used unarmed combat the way he did with his tae kwon do. The part of him that he had always thought of as his dragon soul sat up and took notice. So it was to be a challenge, then? Good.

He rolled to one side to avoid her next strike and did a kip up to get back on his feet, albeit unsteadily, as his knees still felt like rubber bands. With no weapon in hand – Dragonbane lay on the straw-covered floor a few feet away – Marcus launched his own series of punches and kicks designed to knock his opponent down. The Dunmer woman parried his attacks with strikes of her own, and in the dim light from the torches, Marcus could see her grinning. Against his will, he felt a smile curve his own lips. This would be a fight to remember!

Azura heard Marcus cast the Muffle spell at the door, but didn't think it would work the way he planned. The best way to avoid reinforcements coming through the door would be to barricade it, but there was no time for that. Her opponent was fiercely insistent on separating her head from her shoulders, and Azura wanted very much to keep it where it was. Sting and Grave were busy blocking the Dunmer's attacks, which were rapid and furious, for all that he only had the one weapon to her two. Casting a spell at this point would have put her at a distinct disadvantage, and she almost wished she had taken on the woman instead of the man. She didn't know what Marcus was doing over there, but she wasn't hearing metal on metal, and couldn't take the time to look.

The Dunmer Tong swept his blade in front of him, aimed at her midsection, and Azura blocked it with Grave, striking in with Sting, but somehow, he turned his saw-toothed blade with a flick of his wrist and Grave went spinning from her hand.

"Ahh!" she yelped, barely bringing Sting up in time to stop the counterstrike aimed at her head.

"You'll never leave here alive," the assassin jeered at her.

"That's what you think!" Azura countered, streaming flames from her hand right at his face.

Unprepared, he snarled and backpedaled to get out of range. Azura saw her sword lying just out of reach. To go after it would put her in a vulnerable position, so she did the next best thing: she shot an Icy Spear at the Tong's knee and watched him buckle. Whirling, she allowed her momentum to follow through with Sting and watched as his head landed in the corner, the mouth still working and the eyes registering surprise before they dulled forever.

Turning, she gazed in wonder as Marcus and the female assassin sparred in hand-to-hand non-weapon combat. For all his size and strength, the Dragonborn was evenly matched with the Tong facing him. She blocked his strikes and kicks and lashed out with her own, which were blocked by him in return. He had his back to her, and she was tempted to throw a few spells at the woman, to end the combat so they could move on, but something stayed her hands. She had been traveling with Marcus for several days, now, and the one thing she knew about him was his integrity. He dealt with people honestly and fairly and fought with honor. If she interfered now, he wouldn't thank her for it.

So she edged around the wall toward the door, knowing he would be able to see her and know her fight had ended successfully for her.

The female assassin noticed her as well.

"So you took out Ramidj, did you?" she threw at Azura. "That was no small feat. He was good."

"I was better," Azura shrugged.

"And you, stranger," the Tong said, addressing Marcus, "I underestimated you. You're very good. No one here has stood against me in unarmed combat."

"If it comes to that," Marcus said evenly, "I find you an equally worthy opponent."

"I think you might even be a little better than me," the woman said, still circling warily. "I'm sensing you're holding back."

"Maybe," Marcus shrugged. It wouldn't do to put all his cards on the table just yet.

"It's too bad I have to kill you," she said. "I think I'm starting to like you."

"You don't have to kill me," Marcus replied. "You can walk away from all this right now and give up Vendil's scheme."

"Now, you see," she sighed, "there's the problem. I can't walk away. Vendil would send others to hunt me down."

"You're assuming he's coming out of this alive," Marcus said drily, and the woman chuckled before realizing Marcus wasn't joking.

"You're completely serious," she stated.

"As a heart attack."

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. "Even if you did kill Vendil, the rest of the Tong would send others after me. I would be a traitor, and nowhere would be safe for me."

Marcus stepped back a pace and lowered his stance only slightly.

"What's your name?" he asked.

Blinking and suspicious, the woman tensed. "Why should you care?"

Marcus shrugged. "Because as I said, I find you a worthy opponent, and because I might or might not have a few aces up my sleeve."

Whether she understood the poker reference or not, the Tong shifted uneasily. "Sheriah," she finally answered.

"Well, Sheriah, I don't know if you get much news from Skyrim, but I'm Marcus of Whiterun. I'm also known as the Dragonborn."

Large red eyes widened. Sheriah had indeed heard of the Dragonborn. "Are you going to Shout at me?" she swallowed.

"Not if I don't have to," Marcus replied. "I could have, at any point in our fight, but I didn't."

"Why didn't you?" Sheriah asked suspiciously.

Again, Marcus shrugged. "In all the time I've been in Skyrim, I've never fought anyone in a life and death situation using only martial arts."

Sheriah gave an appreciative nod. "We are taught from a young age in the Tong, but few pursue the art."

"I don't want to kill you now, Sheriah," Marcus said, "but I can't have you at my back."

"We seem to be at an impasse, then," Sheriah remarked. "I can't let you go, or my life is forfeit, and you're unwilling to kill me now – thank you very much for that, by the way – so where does that leave us?"

"What if you found a place to hide where the Tong couldn't reach you?" Marcus asked, inspiration striking him.

Sheriah gave a bitter laugh. "You don't know the Tong. There is no place I could go where they wouldn't find me."

"What about the Dark Brotherhood?"

Sheriah was silent for a long moment. When she did speak, it was slowly, as if considering her words very carefully.

"I'm going to assume you are serious. But even if I did approach them, I would be killed. I am Morag Tong. Our two factions have never cooperated, and there is certainly no crossover between us."

"What exactly is the difference between the two?" Azura asked. "Aren't you both assassins?"

"The Morag Tong has been around longer," Sheriah said, still mistrustful. "The Dark Brotherhood broke away from us centuries ago. They rejected Mephala and embraced Sithis and the Night Mother. They are an unlawful guild."

"Yeah, well, they think you rejected what they embraced," Marcus replied laconically. "And they certainly don't think of themselves as 'unlawful.' Outside the law, perhaps, but not flagrantly disregarding it."

"And just how would you know so much about the Brotherhood?" Sheriah scoffed.

"I'm not going to answer that," Marcus said, "except to say that I'm not one of them. There is one among them I could contact however, on your behalf, if you were interested enough in saving your own skin from retribution for not killing Azura and me."

"That could take weeks," Sheriah said, shaking her head. "Months, even, perhaps. I would be dead before you got a reply."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Marcus smiled. Inwardly he wondered what in Oblivion he was doing. Was he now stooping to recruiting for Cicero's little family? Still, he couldn't deny he liked Sheriah, and respected her skills as a fighter. "Promise me this: wait for us outside the Citadel, and I'll see about getting you an interview with the Keeper of the Brotherhood."

Sheriah threw a glance at Azura. "Is he serious?"

Azura spread her hands in a non-threatening gesture. "I've traveled with the man for a couple weeks now," she said truthfully. "I don't think he knows how to lie."

Please don't put me to that test, Marcus prayed silently.

Sheriah seemed to come to a decision. "I will trust you this far," she said to Marcus. "I will wait outside. If you come out of there alive, I will hold you to your promise. If you don't…"

"You'll have to come up with some excuse to Vendil for why you didn't kill me," he finished, nodding. "I understand."

Azura stepped to one side and allowed the Dunmer woman to leave. "Was that wise?" she asked her companion.

"Ordinarily I'd say no," Marcus admitted. "But I can't explain it. I just had a feeling I shouldn't kill her."

"It's your neck," Azura shrugged. "There's only the room at the end of the hall left. Vendil is sure to be there."

"Let's finish this, then," Marcus said. He found another pull chain in a corner, and they heard the swish of the iron bars as they retracted into the stone.

In the chamber at the end of the corridor, Vendil and his remaining assassins heard it, too.

"No one should be coming in here now," Vendil Severin – or Ulen, as he truly was – called out. "Something's wrong!"

In the corridor beyond, Marcus sent out his Aura Whisper, and quailed inwardly as six figures lit up in the room. It was large, circular, and partially submerged, with wooden planking running around the perimeter of the center well, ending in a ramp that sank into the water. Skeletons were visible in the shallower areas, but the water darkened in the middle where it became deeper.

Pillars of stone were set at intervals around the central well, and braziers lit the chamber with their smoky glow. At the far end of the room, opposite the door, Marcus could see Vendil Ulen, the mastermind behind the plot to assassinate Councilor Morvayn, and his anger burned. The aged Dunmer was wearing the unique chitin armor that all the other assassins here had been wearing, but his seemed at bit more elaborate. He wore no helm.

Quickly unslinging his bow, Marcus fired off a shot directly at Ulen, who dodged to one side as if anticipating an attack. Cursing under his breath, Marcus fired off another arrow at the closest Morag Tong racing towards them and took a moment to appreciate the Dunmer falling to his knees, clawing at the arrow that sprouted from his throat. He dropped to his face and fell into the water, floating there unmoving.

Azura sent a wave of Ice Storm into the room as Marcus hitched the bow back into its sheath and drew Dragonbane. Cries of dismay echoed around the chamber as the bone-chilling frost hit three of the Tong, but Ulen was not among them.

Lightning crackled from Vendil Ulen, catching both Marcus and Azura as they stood just inside the doorway.

"Augh!" Azura cried, while Marcus gritted his teeth. He really hated electrical attacks. His muscles screamed in protest as he brought Dragonbane up just in time to block an attack from his left.

"MUL QAH!" he Shouted. He had held off using this Shout before now, feeling he would need the added protection it might afford him when going up against Vendil Ulen himself. What he didn't anticipate was the image of a dragon overlaying his own form. He had seen it on Miraak, during their first encounter, but the reality of it was only now sinking into him.

Cool, he grinned to himself before settling into his newly familiar fighting routine of hack and slash paired with shooting off spells with his free hand.

Azura took down two more of the Tong with another wave of Ice Storm, but again, Vendil Ulen escaped damage, ducking behind one of the pillars. He emerged limned with flames, whirling embers spinning around him like a fiery tornado. Marcus could feel the heat of it from his position twenty feet away. Azura's next volley of Ice Storm melted before they reached Ulen.

"He's got a Flame Cloak going!" she called to Marcus. "Be careful!"

"You will not stop what I have begun," Vendil Ulen gloated. "When Mirri and Tilisu returned, you will be dead, and we will be ready to bring Lleril Morvayn his long-delayed justice!"

"Mirri and Tilisu are dead," Marcus shot back. "They wouldn't see reason."

For a brief moment, Vendil faltered. "Dead? Both of them? I don't believe you!"

"I don't care if you do or not," Marcus replied. "But I'm not going to let you kill Councilor Morvayn."

"He murdered my father," Vendil snarled. "He deserves to die."

"Yeah, yeah," Marcus drawled, "and 'revenge is a dish that is best served cold.' I get it. But it's not going to happen today." The heat from Vendil's Flame Cloak was intense, and Marcus thanked Tamsyn for the ring he wore that protected him from both fire and frost. He rushed Ulen from the right and parried the blow aimed at him from the Daedric sword Ulen wielded. Knowing how well shock attacks worked against mages – or anyone who used magic – Marcus sent a Lightning Bolt to Ulen's face, smiling grimly in satisfaction upon hearing the Dunmer's choked cry of rage.

He danced away from the Flame Cloak and waited for Ulen to make his next move. He wasn't disappointed. The older Dunmer sent a fireball toward Marcus, who avoided the attack by leaping and tumbling over Ulen to get behind him.

But Vendil seemed to have anticipated this and quickly thrust upward as Marcus went over his head. There was a crunching sound, like someone squashing a box of Saltines, and Marcus felt pain in his gut and a spreading wetness beneath the dragonplate cuirass. Furthermore, the cut burned like fire, and Marcus felt his vision wobble. Two Ulens stood in front of him now, and he blinked his eyes rapidly to force them to focus.

Azura saw the hit Marcus had taken, but was too strongly pressed by the two remaining Morag Tong to rush to assist. She blocked one attack with Grave and shot the other assassin with Chain Lightning, as Ulen had done to her and Marcus went they first entered the room. She knew Marcus was too far away to be affected by it, but Vendil Ulen wasn't, and he stiffened again in rage as the electricity coursed through both his remaining Tong before striking him.

Feeling woozy, Marcus dropped to one knee. Whatever poison Ulen had applied to his blade, it was virulent, and he felt himself getting weaker. Fighting the urge to close his eyes, he tried to focus on forming a Shout, but couldn't seem to gather enough of his vital essence to do it.

Ulen seemed to sense his opponent was in a bad way, because he smiled grimly to himself, advancing slowly and raising his blade to strike.

"FO KRAH DIIN!"

Whirling around, Vendil Ulen's eyes widened in dismay as the wave of frost hit him, extinguishing his Flame Cloak. The spectral warrior that had appeared behind him was something out of a nightmare, with only a torso and arms, but no head. He advanced with his battle axe raised, and Vendil only just blocked the blow that would have taken his head from his shoulders. Enraged once more, he shot at the figure with Icy Spears, but they passed harmlessly through the figure that was rearing back to take another slice at him. This time it was a jump backwards that saved him, but in doing so he stumbled over the bent form of the Dragonborn.

"FUS RO DAH!" bellowed the ghostly figure, and Vendil was picked up and slammed against a chest against the far wall. He lay there stunned, unable to move, watching helplessly as his doom approached with battleaxe raised.

The commotion caused the two Morag Tong assassins fighting Azura to turn, momentarily distracted. She shot one with another Chain Lightning before slipping past the other and running to Marcus. The spell brought the first one to his knees, but the second one lashed out at her, the blade slicing through her shirt and the space she had just vacated.

Tumbling out of his way, she sent a Heal Other at Marcus, hoping it would be enough before turning to deal with the last two Morag Tong. They had split up, the one who had been nearly incapacitated by her shock attack had somehow managed to heal himself, and they were moving apart to try and flank her. She backed up towards Marcus, to protect him and give him a chance to recover from whatever Vendil Ulen's blade had done to him.

She saw the spectral warrior close in on the Tong closest to her. Turning to face him put her back to the other Tong, and that she was reluctant to do. As the ghostly warrior engaged the closer assassin she vacillated, trying to keep her eyes on both Dunmer at once. As she switched her gaze from the closer one to the one across the water from her, she saw him raise a bow and prepared her ward. It would have to be timed just right to deflect the arrows.

But the Tong never got the shot off. A figure rose behind it, a swift movement across the Tong's throat followed, and he toppled over into the water. The figure stepped into the light and Azura saw Sheriah standing there, blood dripping from her dagger. She nodded her thanks and turned to Marcus, letting the spectral warrior dispatch the remaining Tong before disappearing.

Marcus' breathing was erratic, and his color didn't look good.

"It's probably a scathecraw poison," Sheriah said. "We use it a lot because it does so much damage for the little amount we use to taint our blades. Imp stool, scathecraw and essence of skeever tail," she added. "Nasty stuff. Do you have a cure poison potion?"

"No," Azura said. "Won't a restore potion help?"

"It keeps you from dying," Sheriah said, "but you're still in agony. Part of the damage is lingering, ongoing. You're still being poisoned while you're trying to recuperate from it."

"Maybe Marcus has something in his pack," Azura suggested, pulling it off the unresisting Dragonborn and rummaging through it. There were several potions in there, but none which would help cure the poisoning.

"The best we can do, then, is to let it run its course," Sheriah suggested. "I've really thrown my lot in with the two of you, now. My career in the Morag Tong is over."

"Why did you help us?" Azura asked, eyes narrowing. "You didn't have to. You could have gone anywhere, changed your name. In High Rock or Cyrodiil, no one would know who you were. You could even have come back in here and helped your friends kill us. But you didn't. Why?"

"They weren't my friends, for one thing," Sheriah clarified. "They were associates. I worked with them, nothing more. Let's just say I didn't like the direction Vendil Ulen was taking us in, and leave it at that."

It wasn't as satisfactory an answer as Azura had hoped, but she was grateful that Sheriah had not, in fact, come back to help her 'associates.'

A quarter of an hour later, and after several more healing spells from Azura, Marcus was feeling more like his old self, though he still felt weak.

"Ulen?" he asked Azura.

"Over there," she pointed. "And…over there, too. Your ghost friend was very…thorough."

"I'm grateful for that," he smiled weakly. He turned to Sheriah. "Thanks for the help. You didn't have to, but I'm glad you did."

"You mentioned career opportunities I thought it might be prudent to explore," she shrugged. "Did you want anything from here before we go?"

"I'd like to have a look in that chest over there," Marcus said, getting to his feet.

"It's locked," Sheriah told him. "Only Vendil had the key."

"That's easily fixed, then," Marcus replied, going to check Ulen's body and retrieving the key.

The chest contained quite a lot of gold, gems and jewelry, well as a few other notes and journals from Vendil Ulen, outlining other plots he had in the works.

"Councilor Morvayn will be most interested in these, I'm sure," he smiled, packing them carefully away.

"How are we going to carry all that stuff?" Azura asked.

"I'll help," Sheriah offered. "I'll need some to live on, I guess, but I'm not greedy."

"What's this?" Azura asked, digging into the very bottom of the chest. She pulled out a mace made of pure ebony, exquisitely carved and chased with red gold. It didn't look anything like the ebony maces Marcus had seen in Skyrim. There were only four blades on the mace each of them scalloped and curved to deal as much damage as possible to whomever or whatever it was used against. Even to his untrained senses, Marcus could tell it radiated with arcane power.

"Wow, that's some mace," Marcus whistled. "I've never seen anything like it. Do you know what this is, Sheriah?"

"Not me," the Dunmer said, shaking her head. "I didn't even know Vendil had it. He kept that chest locked when any of us were around."

"Well, we'll take it with us," Marcus said. "Maybe Neloth knows something about it."

"So we're heading to Tel Mithryn, then?" Azura asked.

"No, we head back to Raven Rock first," Marcus said. "I need to let Councilor Morvayn know what happened here. Not…everything," he added, nodding to Sheriah. "And I intend to keep my promise to you. Let's pack up what we can and head outside. I'll get better reception out there."

Sheriah cocked an eyebrow at Azura, who merely gave her a smug smile.


Cicero was, at first, horrified that his dear Brother Marcus would even suggest taking on a former Morag Tong assassin.

"Vile, filthy betrayers!" he spat over the long-distance connection.

"Um, Cicero?" Marcus smiled apologetically at Sheriah, who had stiffened in offense. "She's right here, and she can hear you. She's not like the others," he continued. "She's an excellent fighter – especially in non-weapon combat – and she didn't kill me. In fact, she helped us out here. Now her life is forfeit if the rest of the Morag Tong find out. She needs a place to hide. Won't you reconsider?"

There was silence for a long moment on the other end, and for a moment, Marcus thought he'd lost the connection.

"I suppose," Cicero began slowly, "there wouldn't be any harm in talking to her. It's really not for me to say. Mother will have to decide that. Have her come to Dawnstar and wait for me at the Windpeak. By the time she gets here, I'll know whether or not she can stay."

Cicero ended the connection and Marcus gave another apologetic smile to Sheriah. "It's the best I can do, I'm afraid."

"It's more than I had," she shrugged. "Even if they don't take me, Skyrim is a big enough place to get lost in."

"If they don't take you, head to a Dwarven ruin called Alftand," Marcus said. "Give them the password 'freedom' and talk to whoever is in charge. Tell them I sent you."

"Why would I go there?" Sheriah asked, curious.

"Because you have skills that should be passed along to others," Marcus replied. "If you're willing to fight against the Thalmor, that is." He watched her face carefully.

Sheriah's eyes narrowed, and she turned her head aside to spit. "Fetching Thalmor!" she said with venom. "I hate them!"

"Then you'll love Blackreach," Marcus grinned.

They parted company with Sheriah at the docks of Raven Rock, as she boarded the Sea Squall, heading to Windhelm. From there she would catch the ferry to Dawnstar.

"Thanks again for the referrals," she called out, patting her bulging backpack.

"I hope to see you soon," he called back, and waved.

"Was that wise," Azura asked as they headed back into town, "letting her know about Alftand and Blackreach and all?"

"Something in my gut tells me it was," Marcus nodded. "Now let's go talk to Councilor Morvayn."

Lleril Morvayn was, at first, shocked and astonished at the evidence that one of the most influential citizens of Raven Rock was actually a member not only of a family with a long-standing grudge against him, but of the infamous assassins guild, the Morag Tong. He was also saddened by the news of the deaths of two of the Redoran Guard, including Turon Areth.

"I just can't believe it, Adril," he murmured to his Second Councilor. "The Severins have done so much for Raven Rock."

"They did it to gain our confidence, Councilor," Adril Arano said firmly. "They had us all fooled. I should have been more vigilant. I'm sorry."

"Don't say that, old friend," Lleril Morvayn soothed. "It's not your fault."

"If it hadn't been for the efforts of the Dragonborn, here," Arano said, "the outcome might have been disastrous."

"Yes, indeed," Morvayn shuddered. He turned to Marcus. "What you've done for me…for all of Raven Rock…goes far beyond what I would have expected from a traveler to our town. For this you have my deepest gratitude. And please…accept this as my personal 'thank you' for saving my life."

He handed Marcus several large pouches that clinked heavily as the younger man juggled them. Azura grabbed a couple that were ready to fall and made a small oof! at the sudden, unexpected weight.

"Now," Lleril Morvayn grinned, "I'm certain that Adril was prepared to reward you appropriately for everything you've done. However, since a bit of coin hardly seems like enough…I've decided to provide something more…substantial."

More than this? Marcus wondered, confused. There's got to be nearly ten thousand gold here! But Councilor Morvayn was still speaking, and he forced himself to focus.

"Since the Severin family – or whoever they were – turned out to be criminals, their property is now forfeit. As Councilor, I hereby award you Severin Manor and everything contained therein. You've earned your citizenship here, Marcus of Whiterun, and I hope you'll consider staying with us as a member of our community."

Stunned, Marcus could only gape at the Councilor. Azura was squealing in delight. "That means you'll have a place to stay when you come to visit us in Solstheim, Marcus!"

"Uh..thank you, Councilor, and you too, Second Councilor," he stammered. "I don't know how much time I'll be able to spend in Solstheim. I have family back home in Skyrim, and several projects I'm managing. But thank you, very much!"

Several minutes later found Marcus and Azura lugging everything into Severin Manor. His last trip here hadn't ended well. He expected to see the bodies of Tilisu and Mirri still lying where he had left them, but apparently Second Councilor Arano had been here with a crew to clean the place up while he was at the Citadel.

"This is such a nice place, Marcus!" Azura enthused. "You'll have your own enchanting table and alchemy lab, and even your own forge! There are plenty of supplies here. Oh, and look! There are display cases, mannequins and plaques here, too. There's even a guest bedroom!"

Mirri's room, he thought, remembering. A wave of frustrated anger overcame him. He knew he wouldn't spend much time here.

"Actually, Azura," he said aloud, "this is as much your home as mine. I couldn't have taken out the entire enclave of Morag Tong without your help. Here." He gave her the second key Adril Arano had given him. "I want you to consider this place your home for as long as you live here on Solstheim. At some point, I'll be going back to Skyrim, but I'm sure you'll want a place independent from Tel Mithryn."

"Well, it would be awkward having to go back there under Neloth's roof," she allowed. "And as much as I like the Retching Netch, it would get costly staying there on a permanent basis." Her smile faded somewhat. "And if I can't go back to the College at Winterhold, I'll have to have some place to live. This wouldn't be so bad."

"I'm sure Tamsyn would take you back," Marcus smiled. "But we have to get to her, first. And that means we'll have to head back to Tel Mithryn to talk to Neloth and see what he's found out. Besides, I left some things there that I should probably bring back and keep here, like those Black Books."

"It's still fairly early," Azura pointed out. "We walked most of the night to get here. We could make a good start back to Tel Mithryn if you want. Or maybe you'd like to get some rest first?"

Marcus shook his head. "No. Time is wasting. I need to find my wife. Let's put some things away here and head back to Neloth."

A half hour later found them heading back through Raven Rock to leave the Bulwark. A young man in a leather jerkin over a white linen shirt, and breeches of the same leather approached him.

"Excuse me, are you Marcus of Whiterun?" he asked.

"Ye-es," Marcus said slowly, knowing a Courier when he saw one.

"I've got a letter for you," the young man said. "Your eyes only, from…Ralis Sedarys at…Kolbjorn Barrow?" The Courier's voice rose questioningly at the end. "Huh, I thought that place was lost. Anyway, looks like that's it," he continued, handing over the sealed letter. "Got to go!" He took off running back into town.

"Who's Ralis Sedarys?" Azura asked.

"Fellow I met on the way to Ashfallow," Marcus answered, breaking the seal and opening the letter.

"What is it?" the Bosmer mage inquired, seeing the frown that creased Marcus' forehead.

"Looks like there's a hold-up on the excavation," he told her, handing her the letter.

"I hope this message finds you quickly, Marcus," she read. "We've completed the initial excavation, but have run into some unexpected difficulties. Come as soon as you can."

"'Unexpected difficulties'?" Azura repeated. "That doesn't sound very encouraging."

"No, it doesn't," Marcus agreed, the frown still etched on his brow. "But Kolbjorn is on the way to Tel Mithryn. We'll stop by there and see what's going on."

"Maybe he just needs more supplies," Azura suggested, hopeful.

"Maybe," Marcus nodded, but in his heart he knew it couldn't be that simple.


[Author's Note: Next up we find out what Tamsyn has been up to in Apocrypha while Marcus has been busy in Solstheim. Miraak does some soul searching of his own, and he's not happy with what he finds. And Marcus and Azura go with Neloth to a Dwarven ruin called Nchardak, where Neloth assures Marcus there is a Black Book he's going to want to take a look at...if they can just get to it. Thanks for being so patient with my slow updates!]