Chapter 9

Amantius Allectus kept his diary in a locked desk on the ground floor of his home in the Temple District. The house was in the opposite corner of the district from where Idari had encountered Buntara, and was so wholly ordinary that she probably would have missed it entirely if she hadn't followed the female Wood Elf away from the Garden of Dareloth. She wondered how the Bosmer knew where to go almost immediately.

It very quickly became evident to the assassin that the Argonian was not going to be a threat to her place in the Thieves' Guild. Faced with Armand Christophe's unexpected suggestion of having to race to join the guild, he seemed to have decided that an evening in the Bloated Float was more worthy of his time than participating in the competition. As soon as the challenge began, he strolled away down the dimly-lit path, along the docks towards the inn, and Idari didn't see him again for the rest of the night.

The Bosmer, however, took off at a run. She bolted up and out of the Waterfront District, and into the main part of the Imperial City at a swift but comfortable pace. She seemed to already know exactly where the target lived, as though she had been scoping the place out for several weeks in preparation for this supposedly last minute task. Idari was able to follow her straight to the door, slipping through before her expertly picked lock had even closed behind her, and it seemed almost unfair to strip a clearly talented thief of her place in the guild. Almost.

She paralysed her competition just inside Allectus' front door. "May the best thief win, huh?" Idari chuckled, winking at the Wood Elf who was frozen in place at the entrance. The paralysis effect was weak, but it would hold her for a couple of hours.

"Don't pretend that's fair!"

"Maybe not," the assassin shrugged. "Tell me your name. I might even put in a good word for you with Armand Christophe, since I'm feeling generous." She sauntered across the room towards the desk, taking note of any possible exits in case she was detected. This late at night, she could almost certainly rule out the stairs to the upper floor, but there was a door leading to the basement that she could definitely hide in should the need arise. For a moment, Idari thought that she caught the faint whiff of blood drifting around the house, but she was sure that she was imagining it.

"It's Methredhel, and I'm twice the thief you'll ever be! That diary should have been mine!"

The lock on the desk didn't even require skill to pick, and she pulled the leather bound book from within. It was tattered from use; the leather of the binding tied around the diary was frayed, and dog-eared paper stuck out from it at various angles. For a moment, she considered taking a look inside to examine the contents, but she decided that she placed far more value in her own discretion than the ramblings of an old Imperial. There was probably very little inside of note, in any respect. Idari tossed the diary from hand to hand before tucking it inside her cloak, and moved to leave the house with a nonchalant shrug. "That's a fair observation. You would be a better thief than me. If you knew how to resist paralysis."

"You can't just leave me here!" the Wood Elf hissed.

The assassin thought for a minute. "But, you see, I actually can. Quite easily." She laughed sadistically as she cracked the door open. "But I'm feeling kind today, and you seem like you deserve better," she whispered, and she dispelled her paralysis spell with a casual flick of her wrist. "Don't worry. I'm sure they'll let you into the guild another time."

Idari ran back to the Garden of Dareloth as quickly as she could manage, paying no attention to the Waterfront District around her. Armand Christophe was still in the garden, leaning against the wall to read missives in the light of the torch that he had pushed into the ground. The Dunmer wondered why he didn't simply return to his home at this late hour, but perhaps standing around at night was his duty as a Thieves' Guild Doyen. Idari already knew that it was a position that she never intended to take.

She tossed the diary into the grass at his feet and folded her arms. "So I'm in?"

The Doyen took the time to neatly fold his papers into his pocket before stooping and unbinding the diary to flip through its pages. "And in just one night? I must say, Miss Mortha, I am impressed. The seal wasn't even disrupted. How prudent of you."

Idari stepped away defensively, reaching for the shortsword on her hip. "How do you know my name?" She had deliberately refused to tell him her clan name and yet he was using it as though she had given him permission to do so. "Explain yourself. Now." A single word out of line, and she would slash open his throat.

Christophe laughed heartily. "The Grey Fox has been watching you for some time. He makes it his business to learn the name of the renowned Hero of Kvatch. To do otherwise would be incredibly remiss of him, don't you think?" He didn't seem in the least concerned that she was prepared to stab him repeatedly in the gut before he even took another breath.

"How dare you...?"

"How dare I?" The Redguard shook his head. "I told you before, Miss Mortha, that anonymity is not something that works for the Grey Fox among those beneath him, did I not? The ability to remain truly anonymous is something that you sacrificed the moment you helped the Kvatch Guard close that gate to Oblivion. It is the ultimate price of heroism."

"So you knew already? Before I even approached you?" Despite her rage, the emotion that the assassin felt most overwhelmingly was fear. It twisted at her gut and made her want to vomit. Was it really so easy to find out her clan name? She dreaded to think how easily her parents would be able to locate her if they came to Cyrodiil now that she was considered a 'hero'.

Armand Christophe smiled. "The Grey Fox has been expecting you here for some time. However, he does have some concerns regarding your ability to stick to the rules of the Thieves Guild, and thus I have been instructed to deny you entry at this time."

"But I did everything you asked of me!"

"Yes, and I am impressed. I thought for certain that it would be Methredhel who would return the diary to me. I shall be sure to send word to the Grey Fox regarding your performance in this task; however, at this moment in time, my hands are tied. While I am not permitted to offer you entry to the guild, we will be allowing you certain privileges such as access to our fences and, should you ever find yourself with an outstanding bounty, we will be able to assist you in avoiding it. You are a more talented thief than I originally thought you to be, and I am sorry to see such a skilled thief ousted from our guild in this manner."

Idari refolded her arms, angry that all of the effort she had gone to to find the Thieves Guild had come to nothing. The rage made her face burn, and she pulled her hood down lower to hide her emotions. She wanted to run away and kill something right now, feel their life ebb out through her blade while she watched and laughed. "I want you to bribe the guards to look the other way when they see me," she growled, determined to get some kind of reward for the time she had spent. If she ever saw the Grey Fox, she made a mental note to set him on fire and watch while he burned. "All of them, in every major settlement. If I am truly to lose my anonymity, then I want guards to see me and turn away as I pass."

"That... is an acceptable request," Christophe admitted. "Consider it done." He pushed himself off of the wall and pulled his torch from the mud. "I do understand your frustration, Miss Mortha, however I do ask that you realise why we cannot allow a career assassin into our ranks. Our rules are absolute, and to abandon them now would cost the guild a heavy price. The Grey Fox's personal protection extends to the poor, and your treatment of them thus far has been less than exemplary. Threatening Buntara, and standing by while Jorck was killed? The Grey Fox cannot allow this."

She spat on the ground. "I didn't murder him."

"No. But consider the stance of my Guild Master as those under his protection are killed in your presence. How long before you wield the blade yourself? Given the circumstances, I do believe that he has been more than generous. You might be an excellent thief, but the rules of our guild cannot be abandoned simply because you lost your temper or your patience. Goodnight, Miss Mortha. May our paths cross in future under better circumstances."

Idari fumed as Armand Christophe walked past her, extinguished his torch and disappeared into the shadows. She punched the wall hard, desperate to chase the Doyen down and stab him in the back like he had done to her. How dare the Thieves Guild treat her like this? She had done everything they asked of her, and still they rejected her out of hand? She was more than a little tempted to rat them out to the Imperial Legion and make them pay for what they had done to her, but she supposed that the majority of guards would sooner arrest her than try to take down the Grey Fox.

But if she was ever stopped by the guards again, she was definitely willing to try.

She trudged miserably back to the stables, glad that she didn't encounter any people along the way. She wasn't sure that she would have been able to stay her blade if somebody had tried to interact with her, and she knew that she wouldn't have been able to stay her tongue.

Shadowmere was sitting under the covered area, calm and silent, and Idari couldn't help but notice that every other horse was as far away as possible, crammed up against the fence of the paddock. They all but climbed over each other to escape from the obsidian coated animal, and even his lazy, undirected gaze seemed to cause them to flinch. Rain was beginning to fall as she saddled her horse, but stopped the moment he stepped from beneath the shelter, as though even the weather was intimidated by him. Idari envied Shadowmere in that respect. She wished that she had the ability to inspire such fear in those around her.

On the ride back to Cheydinhal she slept in the saddle to make up for the time she had lost pursuing the Thieves Guild. It had been a stupid plan. She would never have fit into a guild that didn't allow killing, and perhaps if she had paused for thought after seeing the wanted poster, she might have realised that before making herself seem a fool.

Shadowmere had been trained over his time with Lucien Lachance to return to Cheydinhal when left unattended, and Idari appreciated the opportunity to rest without worry for ending up wildly off-course. Sometimes it seemed as though every time she closed her eyes, she was back as a prisoner in the Imperial City Prison. Despite all of the horrors she'd seen in Kvatch and all of the atrocities she'd committed with the Dark Brotherhood, nothing had affected her as deeply as her incarceration and the feeling of helplessness. She had tried to repress it, but every time she felt near to moving past that experience, it came back to haunt her once again. She could still smell the damp and mildew emanating from the stone walls, still hear the taunts of the vile Valen Dreth, and if she concentrated she could still feel the alien sensation of being cut off from her magical abilities by the Silenced manacles on her wrists.

Over many painful years, Idari had trained herself to the point where she was no longer helpless in a fight, but it seemed that it was not a feeling that she was ever destined to overcome after the setback in prison. She would just have to push herself harder in an effort to ignore it from now on.

Shadowmere had almost reached their destination by the time she was stirred to consciousness. For some reason, riding up the Blue Road to Cheydinhal felt like riding towards home now, even though she had only first visited the city a few months ago. If it was further from the border with Morrowind, and if she ever decided to retire from the Dark Brotherhood, she might have considered staying there long term. As it stood, she still had every intention of leaving Cyrodiil as soon as this mess with the Blades was over. She would stay only until they had retrieved the Amulet of Kings from the Mythic Dawn, and then she would run as far and as fast as she could without looking back to see if they missed her. As far as she was concerned, the promise she had made to Martin was the only thing keeping her here. To her, her word was utterly unbreakable.

She rode up to Fort Farragut without stopping in the city, skirting around the walls of Cheydinhal and riding up the hill. Idari dismounted and left Shadowmere to graze on the grass within the crumbling masonry, slipping through a hole in the wall of the fort and heading towards Lachance's secret entrance. She opened the trapdoor and slid down the rope ladder.

At first glance, the room was completely deserted. A candle smoked on the desk as if recently extinguished, and the whole place was deathly silent in the gloom. The only sliver of light filtered down through the imperfect seal of the trapdoor, though it did little to illuminate the total darkness around her.

"You might consider announcing yourself, Mortha," said a voice in the darkness. Lachance was behind her and had all but melted into the shadows beneath his black robes. There was a dagger in his hand, and if he hadn't spoken, she probably would have overlooked him entirely. "Something unfortunate might have happened to you."

He crossed the room silently and struck a match to relight his candle. "You should really get some proper lighting in here, Lachance," Idari said, smirking. "You'll ruin your eyesight."

"I am touched by your concern." The sarcasm in his words was almost palpable. "I think darkness somewhat befits an assassin's lair, don't you?"

"Adamus Phillida is dead."

"Yes." Idari could see Lachance's lips pull into a smile beneath his hood. "I was pleased to hear that you succeeded where those before you had failed, and that the plague of Adamus Phillida has finally been ended. I gather that you also managed to send a message to his successor in the Legion, and I should congratulate you on winning the race with the Thieves Guild." She opened her mouth to reply, but he waved her off. "The Grey Fox is not the only man in Cyrodiil with eyes and ears everywhere. I understand your frustration with their unwarranted rejection, but their loss is the Dark Brotherhood's gain. Armand Christophe was right, though. You would never make a Thieves' Guild thief."

Idari scoffed. "I would have been the Grey Fox within a week."

"I highly doubt that, Mortha. As confident as you might be in your abilities, the Grey Fox possesses something that even the Black Hand does not: true anonymity. We have been trying to ascertain his identity for years, but it is as though he never existed outside of his thief's guise. It does place the Dark Brotherhood at something of a disadvantage. Regardless of all this, I believe that you lost valuable time with your little diversion. The Night Mother has requested that I allow you to assist the Blades at this time, but the Thieves' Guild is another matter entirely. Did I not impress upon you the importance of your haste in this endeavour?"

"Believe me, I am aware," she spat, folding her arms. She hated to admit that she had been wrong to pursue the Thieves Guild, but since he already seemed to know everything that had happened she decided to be upfront about her failings. "Still, what is a single day?"

"In our line of work, a single day can be the difference between being able to fulfil a contract and having to disappoint the Night Mother with our failings. You are lucky that in this instance the delay did not have catastrophic consequences. Had your lack of respect for your orders caused issues, I would have been forced to discuss your punishment with the Listener. I told you before you left that your next contract was of the utmost importance. To disobey a direct order from your superior is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis."

"The Tenets don't apply to me," Idari snapped.

Lucien took a step towards her menacingly. "The Tenets apply if and when the Black Hand say they apply," he hissed. "Do not disobey me again, or the last thing you ever feel will be my dagger in your spine. Consider that before you take unsanctioned detours in future."

The Dunmer stared him down, unintimidated by his attempts to threaten her. "Adamus Phillida is still dead, and I still sent your message as requested."

"Your one saving grace." He tossed her a bag of coins and she caught it with one hand. "Your payment, and your included bonus."

"Feels a little light..."

"Full payment requires following orders to the letter. Anything less incites a penalty."

Idari scowled as she tucked the coins into a pocket of her armour. It had only been one day, barely worth the fuss that he was making. "What is this supposedly urgent contract that you have for me, then?"

Lucien nodded, and gestured for her to sit at his table. "You are more than likely already aware of the assassin among assassins, as many of the Dark Brotherhood are. What you will not be aware of is that the Black Hand has uncovered an undeniable and irrefutable link between the traitor and the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. You have been chosen by the Night Mother Herself to perform the ancient rite of Purification. It is a great honour."

"So...?"

"So everybody in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary must be eliminated to remove the threat to the Dark Brotherhood as a whole. The Night Mother trusts you with this. Do not disappoint Her." He pulled a piece of parchment from his robes and read the names from it in a slow and calculated manner. "Ocheeva, Vicente Valtieri, Teinaava, Gogron gro-Bolmog, Telaendril, Antoinetta Marie and M'raaj-Dar must all die."

"And Turner? The idiot Argonian I picked up?"

Lachance shook his head and waved her off with a casual flick of his wrist. "Do with him as you will. As in your case, the traitor was active in the Brotherhood before his recruitment and he is absolved of suspicion. Should you wish to kill him, however, the Black Hand shall not weep at his loss. We doubt that he will be a valuable asset in the future."

"What makes you so certain that the traitor is in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary that you would be willing to kill all of them?" She wouldn't mourn for the majority of the people in the sanctuary, but the thought of killing them didn't sit well with her without further clarification. Killing strangers was entirely different to killing people who could be valuable to her in the long run. "Couldn't it be a Sibling from another sanctuary? A member not attached to a sanctuary? Is it really worth killing all of them on the slight chance that one might be the traitor?"

"The word of the Black Hand is not to be questioned by the likes of you."

"That is not an answer..."

Lucien's expression darkened. "You walk a fine line, Mortha. Remember that you are Black Hand in rank only, and we have no obligation to share our secrets with you." He sighed in frustration. "If the Night Mother had not requested you Herself, I would not hesitate to reassign this mission to an assassin in whose abilities I have more faith. Unfortunately, the decision is out of my hands." Lachance rose and pulled an apple from a barrel beside his desk, placing it on the table in front of Idari. The fruit glistened unnaturally even in the dim lighting. "Observe this, but do not touch. For this task, I am regrettably instructed to offer you an apple treated with the deadliest poison in the province, and a unique writ of summoning, penned by our Dread Father Himself. It will allow you to call upon the spirit of Rufio in battle, and unleash his wrath upon your foes. While his body may have been fragile, you will find that his soul is vengeful in death and he will fight with every scrap of his rage until the Dread Father calls him back to the Void."

Idari begrudgingly accepted the apple and the scroll, stashing them in the pockets of her armour. "If you believe that I need your trinkets, then I will take them. Perhaps you should attempt to hide your disdain for me. It might make me more willing to follow your orders…" Already her mind was filled with ideas of how to bring an end to the lives of such talented assassins. She knew that she would have to think of a way to make the poisoned apple spread its venom beyond just a single target, and perhaps the scroll would prove useful in a combat situation if she was backed into a corner. Having lived with the people in the Sanctuary for several weeks, she was knew that she was not a match for many of them in combat. Given more time, she would have staged 'accidents' for each of them over the period of a couple of weeks, before killing the rest of them as they panicked about the traitor. As it stood, "I suppose you want me to Purify the Sanctuary as soon as possible, then?"

"Indeed. We require the Sanctuary to be Purified within two days. You would have had three, if not for your untimely delay. I did tell you that this contract was of the utmost time sensitivity, and you made your choice to ignore me. Report to me here in Fort Farragut once the contract is complete. If you're still alive, that is."

The Dunmer sighed. "I'm going to need to go to Bruma after this." She hated that her obligation to the Blades was dragging her away from where she wanted to be, but she supposed that living in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary alone while she carried out contracts would be less than ideal. At least Martin respected her opinion and Jauffre was willing to answer her some of questions, neither of which was something she had experienced in the entire time she had known Lucien Lachance.

"Do not fret, Mortha. Your next contract will allow you the time to travel to Bruma, and I am sure that you will be equally pleased to learn that we will no longer be required to converse in person. While the Blades definitely require your assistance, I do believe that your decision to entrust the investigation in the Imperial City to that Redguard was a good one. The man seems very capable of defending himself, for the most part."

Idari scoffed. "You should stop spying on people, Lachance."

"The Black Hand likes to be kept abreast of the issues of the province."

"And I like to be secure in my privacy. The issue with the Blades will not be affecting the Dark Brotherhood any time soon."

Lucien laughed heartily. "On the contrary, Mortha, I believe that the issue with the Blades will be affecting every person in Cyrodiil very soon."

Idari sighed and shook her head slightly. "We will see," she whispered, turning on her heel and climbing out of Lachance's sanctum. The thought that Oblivion gates might start threatening everybody in the future was not one that she revelled in. She had heard that the gates were opening up all over Cyrodiil since she had closed the one at Kvatch, but she had yet to see another and she supposed that they had opened up away from the cities. She didn't want to be dragged into any more acts of heroism. If they started appearing near cities, she would almost certainly be called upon to close them. The last had not posed a problem, but it had been easy to slip through almost undetected, and now she was sure that the daedra would be more alert for intruders. She hoped that merely returning to Amulet of Kings to the Blades would be enough to end her entanglement in this mess, but she had a horrible feeling that they would not be so willing to let her leave.

She walked Shadowmere down the hill to Cheydinhal as the enormity of her contract hit her. It was hard to compare it to a standard contract, however much she tried to rationalise it. Idari was a skilled killer, but most of her targets had years of experience on her, and if her attempt to assassinate Phillida had proven anything, it was that experience was worth a lot more than raw skill when it came to fighting.

Vicente Valtieri was the one that bothered her the most. Killing a vampire was not something that she was looking forward to. It made a pit form in her stomach, and for the first time she considered defaulting on a contract.

"It won't be that difficult," she muttered to herself in a vain attempt at reassurance. "You're a better assassin than all of them. Just take them by surprise. They won't be expecting your knife in their back. Not following their stupid Tenets." None of them were her friends. She wouldn't mourn for them. She wouldn't miss any of them. She just wasn't sure if she could kill them all at the same time.

The cover of the well was still damaged, and seemed to be swaying in the wind precariously. She had never been given a key to the well, but she had stolen a copy from Ocheeva on her way to kill Adamus Phillida, in case she ever needed to escape from the town guards. Instead, Idari decided to descend to the Sanctuary through the abandoned house.

She didn't think that she would return to the Abandoned House after this contract. There would be nothing here for her. No contracts, no promise of training, and she would sooner spend coin in an inn than bed down upon the blood of her vanquished foes. Idari exhaled heavily, a hand upon the filthy doorframe leading to the cellar, as she tried to steel her nerves. Each of the killers in the Sanctuary deserved better than a knife in the back, but she refused to let her arrogance about her own fighting prowess become overinflated once again. A single brush with defeat was more than enough.

"Quick and clean," she muttered to herself. As long as she could catch them unawares, she knew that she would have few issues. It would be a shame to kill Ocheeva, who had so willingly allowed her into the Sanctuary, but it was still Vicente whose death caused her pause. "A vampire? How could they ask this of me?" If assassination were an art form, then Vicente Valtieri would be considered a virtuoso, and they had to have known... "Quick and clean, quick and clean. A knife in the back and be done with it."

But they each deserved a better death.

Idari's thoughts turned unwillingly to the home that she had abandoned in Sadrith Mora. Telvanni sorcerers were powerful, with some even capable of prolonging their life indefinitely. Her father had tried it long before she was born, in a pathetic attempt to gain status within the house, and he had failed miserably. Reaching beyond his ability had preserved his body, but fractured his mind, and the entirety of his only daughter's childhood had been marred by his increasing paranoia and obsession with advancement. His domineering wife had been able to keep the family in their mediocre position through her own personal connections and never allowing her husband to linger too long within the public eye, but the children had born the weight of it upon their shoulders in private.

Sadas Mortha had been born a full fifty years before his two younger siblings and was, like his father, a mer of no extraordinary magical talent. Still, his parents pushed him to advance through the house. He was distant when Idari and Reron were born less than a year apart, and he was still distant when he had lost his life shortly after his seventy-second birthday. His sister resented him almost as much as she did her parents, but it was thinking of Reron that caused her to put off entering the Sanctuary. If there was one person that she missed from her life in Sadrith Mora, it was her estranged younger brother, and if there was one action in her entire life that she felt guilty about, it was the role that she had played in his disappearance.

The Black Door sounded particularly gleeful as it swung upon for her. "What is the colour of night?", as if it could sense that she was here to perform a Purification. Idari wondered if she had inherited a small touch of her father's paranoia, or whether this was what nervousness felt like. She hoped for the latter, more than anything.

The entrance hall of the Sanctuary stood empty save for the Dark Guardian shuffling around without purpose. The Dunmer felt the healed puncture wound in her thigh ache as she remembered her last encounter with Dark Guardians, and she pondered whether it would react to the deaths of her Siblings. Perhaps, in all the years that it had roamed these halls, it had seen more than a single Purification. Perhaps, even, it was an undead Purification victim, doomed forever to trace its last steps. She tried to ignore it, fighting to focus on the task in hand, trying to regain some small measure of her composure, but she could feel it slipping further away from her by the second.

It was just a contract. She needed to treat it the same way that she would treat any other.

Idari walked a loop of the Sanctuary to identify her targets, considering her options. Gogron and Telaendril were training together, as they often were at this time of day. There were rumours that the two of them were in some kind of intimate relationship, which disgusted the Dark Elf, and she knew that whichever she chose to kill first, she would have to deal with an attack from the other. The Orc was probably her biggest threat of the pair, but she knew not to underestimate the speed and accuracy of the archer in a life or death situation.

She moved back through the main hall to enter the living quarters, and she could smell Antoinetta Marie's cooking before she could see the Breton bent over a pot with a stupid grin on her face. Teinaava was sat sheepishly across from her, trying to think of an excuse to avoid tasting her latest concoction as he pretended to be engrossed in a book. Antoinetta smiled sweetly and bid that Idari join them, but she declined. "Later," she promised, a plan already forming in her mind for how to dispatch them. She stooped down at the foot of her bed and threw something into her chest for safe keeping, before leaving the room.

The third time she entered the central hall of the Sanctuary, Idari became aware of a robed figure skulking in the corner. M'raaj-Dar was running a paw along the spines of the books on the shelf, as if looking for something, and he scoffed when he saw her. "Ashborn ape," she heard him growl under his breath. He pulled a tome from the bookshelf and thumbed through it briefly, as indifferently as if he has never spoken.

"Mangy housecat." She would not miss the Khajiit. In fact, she was fairly sure that she would enjoy watching the lights fade from his eyes. M'raaj-Dar and Idari Mortha had shared a mutual animosity from the moment they had met. As the only two proficient spellcasters in the Sanctuary, they had found themselves at odds almost immediately, constantly trying to outdo one another. She was better at Destruction, while his skills lay more towards Illusion and Mysticism, and yet they continued to fight for magical superiority, with neither being able to truly surpass the other. The Dunmer looked forward to becoming the only competent mage within the bounds of the sanctuary.

Ocheeva was sat in her own room, feet propped up on a second chair and engrossed in a book. She looked up to acknowledge Idari passing her door and smiled warmly, but paid her little notice beyond that. The Argonian was a fine and accomplished assassin, and it seemed improper to slay her while she was at ease like this, but the Silencer was unsure if she would be a match for Ocheeva in a fight on equal terms. She had never seen the sanctuary matron fight, but she was sure that she would have to be skilled with a blade to reach that rank in the Brotherhood. Her mind raced with assassination ideas as she walked past, considering all of her possible strategies that she could employ while she descended the stairs towards Vicente Valtieri's room.

The vampire, as usual, was sat in his room. Idari wasn't convinced that she had ever seen him outside of his quarters, but she supposed that he left at night when he could no longer be harmed by the sun. He swirled a goblet of something that looked like wine and massaged his temple gently.

"Stressful day?" the Dunmer asked, leaning up against the door frame casually. She snorted a laugh and pushed herself upright, inviting herself into the room without permission.

Vicente shook his head slightly and took a sip from his cup. The way that his lips were stained red suggested that it was not only wine that he was drinking, and he licked the blood away with a short sigh. "Antoinetta is cooking again," he moaned. He sounded exasperated.

Idari pulled up a chair. "She usually is."

"Ever since I was a boy, I have had a... weakness to garlic. Before I developed my condition, it was a weakness that only affected me when I ate the accursed stuff, but since the darlingAntoinetta Marie joined the Sanctuary, she has been cooking with it in such great volumes that I can feel the reaction even from here. I have warned her of this before, but she is stubborn and refuses to listen to reason, and now nothing will ease this ache in my head."

"If it were me, I would teach her a lesson." She kicked her feet up onto the table, tossing her Blade of Woe from hand to hand for emphasis. "One that she can't ignore."

Vicente frowned at her. "Unfortunately the Tenets forbid it." He took another sip from his goblet and folded his hands into his lap. "I assume you have chosen to darken my doorway for a reason."

Idari considered her words carefully. "I came to talk to you about a contract." She wondered where the pondscum she had scraped up in Bruma was. He was the only member of the Sanctuary that she couldn't account for right now, but she felt like she ought to kill him if she wanted to complete her Purification fully. There was no way she would regret his death, but it felt almost unlawful to murder somebody with no real reason. Perhaps she would let him live after all...

"Tell me about this contract. Perhaps I can offer some wisdom."

She sat up, laying her dagger on the table. "I have been asked to perform a rite of Purification. I take it you've heard of it?"

He looked straight into her eyes for a few seconds, and Idari saw his expression darken with realisation. "Ah." Vicente shifted in his seat, an air of concern shrouding his outwardly calm demeanour. "I suppose I should have foreseen this."

"I suppose you should." Idari stood, sighing. He was only a vampire. She could kill a vampire. She was sure that she could.

An icy feeling twisted in her gut as she considered the act. Not regret, but something else, something deeper.

"It has been over a century since the last time the Black Hand ordered a Purification, but I suppose that they must be more frightened of the Traitor than I had assumed. They suspect that it is one of our number? I am unconvinced by their logic." Vicente rose to his feet, smoothing his trousers and drawing his sword. It was a massive claymore, easily as tall as Idari, and the edge was honed expertly to cut through flesh. Despite its size, he carried it effortlessly in one hand, poised to defend himself in a heartbeat. "It will be your companion always, the guilt of a Purification. However much you claim to be detached from your Dark Siblings, and however much you tell yourself that you cannot and will not regret it, know that you will never be free of it. You should understand that I do not begrudge you for attempting to follow your orders, however much I disagree with them. I will, however, not be willing to die without a fight. One does not live to be as old as I without having to fight for their life at some point or other."

"I wouldn't expect anything less." It was a comfort to her that he would die fighting. For all of her reluctance to kill a vampire, it would feel more like a proper contract if she killed him in combat than if she had simply stabbed him in his sleep. "Tell me, does it concern you that you just revealed your weakness to me?" She drew her katana. He was faster and stronger than her, and she could see the ripples of an enchantment dancing along the blade of his claymore,but she had an idea how to take him down with little difficulty.

"What?" Vicente laughed humourlessly. "Garlic? I believe you are vastly overestimating the effect that it has on me from this distance, Miss Mortha."

"No, no," Idari replied. "Not garlic." She slashed at him with her katana, which he easily blocked as she slammed her Blade of Woe into his kidney to the hilt. "It's compassion, Valtieri." She exhaled and plunged the dagger into the back of his torso, aiming for his heart. "You care too much about this stupid little 'family' you have here. You would never have killed me, even to save your own life." He pushed her away, fumbling with his blade as the life flowed from his body. He tried to attack her as he bled out, but staggered himself with the weight of his sword, and she had no problems dodging his wild swings. "Enjoy the Void, Vicente."


Author Note: I fear that I will never be truly happy with this chapter. In the scheme of the story, it is unnecessary and I'm not sure what I was thinking when I wrote it five years ago. Still, this is an improvement, so it is time to move on with the rewrite before I lose more months slaving over something that will never be faultless.