Chapter 9

"Sorry I fell asleep on you. I usually last longer than that."

"Even Dovah need rest."

"I'll try to warn you next time."

"You did no harm."

Armored feet scratched against the stone road as man and woman walked side by side. Sun shone palely in the morning. A few miles and the air would grow colder as they crossed into Eastmarch and eventually headed north. She vaguely considered straying from the road and heading straight towards Windhelm – only last time she did something like that, she wound up wandering into a cave out of curiosity and nearly getting killed by Falmer.

One of these days, she wasn't going to make it out of a cave.

She pushed the thought from her mind and glanced at Odahviing. He caught her eye. "Doesn't Windhelm have something to do with this petty war your people are fighting?"

"Yes – Ulfric Stormcloak leads the rebellion there. He's the Jarl of Eastmarch."

"And how does the war go?"

"I managed to negotiate a truce, but they've started fighting again."

"Are you involved?"

"I've done my best to stay out of it," she said with a shrug.

"Why is that?"

"I don't really think either side is right. I mean, we need to have a united Empire – it's better for everyone. But then, Talos shouldn't be disregarded. He's our god; we aren't just going to throw him away."

"Do they want you involved?"

"Both sides think that having the Dragonborn on their side will rally their troops and scare their enemies. They've both tried to recruit me. I've turned down both sides."

A comfortable silence fell between them, as they listened to the sounds around them. A fox slipped past their legs and ran ahead and disappeared between a few bushes.

Nine hours, seven wolves, three bandits, and one troll later, Emlen ducked into the Windhelm stables, searching for warmth and her friend Arivanya.

Her palms were covered by the Nightingale gauntlets but her fingers were left bare to the cold. She pressed her fingers against one horse, enjoying the warmth the creature gave off. It made a noise of contentment.

She felt Odahviing's hand on her shoulder, slightly unsure. She could feel the warmth and pressure, but not as much as she'd like to. It was moments like this that she wished she wore clothes instead of armor. She didn't look at him or consider why he touched her. Somehow, it made her feel lighter after the long walk.

"Emlen!" Arivanya's voice interrupted her thoughts. Odahviing's hand slid away. Emlen looked up and at Arivanya.

Arivanya was an Altmer – a High Elf from Summerset Isle. She was golden – her hair, her eyes, her skin, all different shades of the same rich metal. She was a bitter woman, but not as snobbish as many of her race. Emlen smiled. "Arivanya, how have you been?"

Arivanya shook her head, and Emlen's heart dropped. Something bad was happening. "What's going on?"

"Somebody has decided to take up the Butcher's cause. They're calling him the Apprentice."

Emlen shook her head. The Butcher, Calixto Corrium, was horrible – he slaughtered women in an attempt to resurrect his dead sister. Who else would be doing this? "Who did he kill?" she asked, afraid to know the answer.

"Luaffyn, the bard in Candlehearth Hall."

"Oh no," Emlen murmured. She turned to Odahviing. "We've got to go. I can only hope this Apprentice hasn't broken into Calixto's shop."

XxXxXxX

Calixto's House of Curiosities was a beautiful building filled with strange and intriguing artifacts. Only now, it was ripped apart, every artifact strewn about the floor, tables and chairs knocked over, a bookshelf upended.

Emlen hurried to the chest that she had left Calixto's journals in. They had been removed. "This is bad," she said.

"The piece might have been hidden in plain sight," Odahviing said. "It might have been overlooked."

"Maybe," she muttered, half-hopeful, but not really believing it. The next ten minutes was spent searching through the artifacts, but nothing turned up. Emlen threw her hands up. "He took it. Now I've got to catch another killer."

"Do you know where to start?"

"Jorleif, the steward in the Palace of the Kings. I'll need permission to actually investigate, even if I've done it before."

"And if he denies you permission?"

"He won't," she answered. "He wouldn't dare. They hadn't been able to solve it without me before."

XxXxXxX

Within an hour, Emlen was on the hunt again, heading towards the Hall of the Dead to check out the body. "Do you have any advice, Odahviing?" she asked him quietly.

He was silent for a long time before answering. "Why did the first one attack?"

"He was trying to bring his dead sister back to life."

"Is there anybody else who might have the same goals?"

Emlen stopped where she was. "Torbjorn Shatter-Shield."

"Why?" Odahviing stood in front of her, facing her.

She bit her lip. "One of his daughters was murdered by the Butcher. The other…" She hesitated, feeling slightly guilty. She pushed the feeling away. After all, she'd done it for her family. "The other was shot with an arrow in her sleep. And his wife killed herself."

Odahviing raised his eyebrows. "The man has no luck. But would he do something like this?"

"He's pretty desperate, but maybe not that much." She shrugged. "We can check him out later. The body first."

Luaffyn was cut in the same way as the previous victims of the Butcher, but sloppier. "He didn't know what he was doing," the priestess said. "He's angry, but he's not a mastermind."

"That might work to our advantage," Emlen considered. "Do you have any evidence pointing to who might have done it?"

"I'm afraid not."

Emlen scowled. "We're not getting anywhere!" She felt frustrated and stressed – another woman could be killed at any minute! It was a miracle she had been able to save Arivanya last time. What chance did she have to solve this again?

Odahviing's hand rested on her shoulder. "You have traveled far today. Perhaps it is best you rest. If you stop for a time, you may see something you haven't."

She wanted to argue and she prepared to, but he squeezed her shoulder and she stopped. The pressure grounded her. She forced herself to focus on it and breathe. "You're right," she admitted. "We can go to my home, Hjerim."

"You have a home here as well?"

"Yeah, it was a spontaneous decision," she answered. "It had something to do with the Butcher. I'll explain everything there."