Chapter 13

Varanu stamped out the door with the sack over one shoulder. Esgeriad, leaning against a pillar of the porch, straightened gracefully as he caught sight of her. He made a tsk-tsk noise.

"Such a pity," he said. "They contrasted beautifully with your skin."

"Shut up," Varanu said.

"Why don't you wear a helmet, then?" Esgeriad said. He kept up easily as she turned toward the livery stable.

"I spend a lot of time underground and they interfere with your peripheral vision," Varanu said.

"I might have known you would have a practical reason," Esgeriad sniffed.

"You're not going to be torn to bits by zombies," Varanu said. "You're going to be killed in your sleep. It will solve all my problems in one fell swoop. Arkay won't want me any more, so I won't have to go get killed in the sewers, and the Dark Brotherhood will probably hire me, so I won't have to worry about them any more either. It's a perfect solution."

"Then do try not to disfigure my face," Esgeriad said cheerily.

"May kwama infest the graves of your ancestors."

"You don't say."

Twenty minutes later, they were in the saddle and cutting across country toward the City. It was possible to get there on the Imperial roads, but the way was longer. "This way isn't as safe," Varanu said as they went. A few insects were audible, but for the most part the spring evening was very quiet. The moon was down, and they were in the dark. "But two armored mer on horseback are usually likely to be left alone."

"I have seldom been bothered when alone," Esgeriad said. "I hear the bandits often prey on pilgrims and refugees."

"True."

"They are usually amenable to persuasion, however." Varanu could probably have made out his features by starlight, but she chose not to. She could practically hear him smirking.

"Smug fetcher. How'd you get to be better than ninety percent of the mages in the Guild, anyway? This anything to do with how old you really are?"

"Partly," Esgeriad said. "In fifty years I have had a long time to practice. Part of it is what I was born with. And part of it is simply the blessing of Dibella. Is there a reason why you choose not to light our way? Shall I do so?"

He is older than I am, Varanu thought. I knew it. "No. Like I said, we'll probably be left alone. And like you said, I'm not wearing a helmet. I'd rather not be any more visible than I have to."

"Life detection spells exist for a reason, you know," Esgeriad said. "I will tell you if we are near anything that is large enough to be sentient."

"It's your life," Varanu said, and raised a hand. "Light."

---

Marynd stood at the base of the sloping passage up to the surface, a few yards from the door to the Sanctuary. The sun was rising. A thin slice of it, pale and dilute, shone under the broken door and lit up the dusty hem of his black robe. Dra'thani stood to his left and Michel Severn to his right. The Khajiit was stripped of her armor, clad only in plain linen. She shifted uneasily on her naked paw pads, but did not step further away from the light.

Nee Ja stood well to one side with her hands folded in front of her. The Argonian was absolutely still, not even her tail twitching.

"You haven't broken a Tenet," Marynd said. "But both of you have failed your Sanctuary and your Speaker, and for that there is a penalty. Dra'thani, your carelessness in leaving the door open permitted interlopers to enter our Sanctuary. Michel, you should have detected their approach far in advance, as you did with the carter." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Nee Ja was absent and is not culpable. Now accept your penance."

"Yes, Speaker," said Michel Severn. The Breton was outwardly composed, but his blue eyes darted to Marynd as he spoke, betraying nerves at work.

"Yes, Speaker," said Dra'thani. She looked up toward the brightening doorway. Marynd, who was watching for it, saw the very slight twitch of one ear as she realized what was coming.

"Dra'thani will stand where I am standing," Marynd said. "You will not move from this spot until the sun is above the door. If you try to move before I tell you, I'll kill you. In the unlikely event that you strike me down, Nee Ja has instructions to finish what I've begun."

"This one understands," Dra'thani said. "It would have pleased the crazy Imperial for others to suffer in his behalf. It is fitting."

Marynd moved to one side. Dra'thani stepped delicately into the exact spot he had occupied. She hissed as the sun struck her ankles, but she stood absolutely square to the doorway, facing into the light. Steam rose from her paws and ankles, and there was a faint smell of scorching fur.

"And I?" Michel said. "What shall I do?"

"You will ensure that Dra'thani does not die afterwards," Marynd said. He did not look directly at the Breton, but he was watching from the corner of one eye as he spoke. "And, since your healing skill will not be sufficient, you will do it with your blood. Since I am certain you do not share our dead brother's particular leanings, I expect it to be very painful."

He had not taken the man by surprise, at least. Severn tightened his bony jaw, but that was his only reaction. "Yes, Speaker."

"Oh, very good," Dra'thani said. She spoke without apparent effort, although the sun was creeping up her calves. The gray and white fur on her feet was already visibly singed. "This one applauds the Speaker's ingenuity. But even if this one were to kill Severn, which the Speaker will not wish, it would not be enough. It is not a big man, even for a human."

"No," Marynd said. "But I am."

He had surprised them with that. Even Nee Ja's head jerked around to stare at him. "But Speaker," she said.

"Silence," Marynd said quietly. The Shadowscale closed her jaws with a small click. "I am Speaker here. My duty is to predict your mistakes, and prevent them. I will therefore share the penalty with you, as I shared the error."

"Foolish," Dra'thani said. "Weak." Her ears shrank against her skull as she squinted at the rising sunlight. Nee Ja made a shocked sound at the audacity of this, but did not disagree.

"The second isn't true, or you could easily have killed me in my sleep before now," Marynd said. "I know you've considered it. You've faced the Spirit of Sithis before, as I have. As for the first, well, we'll see."

Marynd was well satisfied to see a flicker of alarm cross Michel Severn's face for an instant. Now he must consider whether Dra'thani will disobey me.

The three of them stood and watched the light creep up Dra'thani's body. It arrived in uneven bars as the sun came through the slats of the door, affording momentary relief and then redoubled torture as one block of light added to the next. The linen garments might as well not have been there, for all the protection they afforded. The stink of burnt fur grew stronger. The Khajiiti vampire did not move throughout, though her tail lashed from time to time at the pain. Her feet were in full sun the entire time, and by the time the light had reached her chest, her claws had turned to dust and her toes were utterly black. A bar of light fell naturally across her hands where they hung at her sides, and she did not withdraw them from the light either. The claws flickered in and out of her fingers as bits of her hair and flesh turned to dust and drifted, swirling motes in the sun.

In the instant that the sun came over the top of the door, Marynd said, "That's enough."

The vampire whirled and sprang for the darkest corner of the cavern the instant the words were out of his mouth. A trail of smoke hung in the hair behind her. She crouched against the wall, teeth bared. Her gums were scorched, drawn further back from her fangs so that they seemed even longer.

"And now, Michel," Marynd said. "We'll see exactly how much you're willing to do for your Sanctuary."

"Yes," said Michel Severn. He turned and went slowly toward Dra'thani. The irises of her eyes glowed blue-white as she watched him. Marynd followed, watching. Nee Ja's footsteps were silent, but he knew she was just behind him.

If he's truly afraid, she will kill him, he thought dispassionately. It's the one area where her command of herself falters, just like every other vampire. And if she does, it will be the end of my Sanctuary.

And, in the brief part of my life that remains after the rest of the Hand discover what I've done, I will be sorry to have lost them.

Severn knelt down and held out his left hand. "You're not touching my throat with those teeth, woman," he said. Dra'thani made a sound that could have been a hiss or a laugh, and reached out and closed her blackened fingers around his arm. She drew him within reach slowly, without unnecessary roughness, and then she leaned forward and sank her front teeth into his wrist. She moved her head for an instant, trying for the best possible seal – always difficult, for a Khajiit – and then she made a sound like a person inhaling.

Severn looked momentarily pained. Then he slumped sideways. Dra'thani's darting hand stopped his head from hitting the stone floor of the cavern. She detached her lips from his wrist and licked her teeth. As Marynd watched, the blackest parts of her skin began to turn gray, but it wasn't enough. She was still missing half of one of her toes, and the scorched areas were obviously not fully healed (whatever that was, in a vampire).

She looked up at Marynd. "I have spared his life," she said. And anyone could say that, but Severn was still visibly breathing, panting as his heart tried to get his depleted blood supply back to his brain.

"Get up," Marynd said. "Nee Ja, you will see to Michel." Nee Ja slid past him and knelt to lift the Breton up onto one shoulder. She knew better than to protest further. Dra'thani straightened up slowly as the Argonian padded back into the Sanctuary.

"The Speaker sends away his Shadowscale," Dra'thani said. "Most loyal of his brothers and sisters, yes. This is not wise."

"On the contrary," Marynd said. "Nee Ja is loyal to the Brotherhood and to the Dark God, but her thinking is very linear. You, on the other hand… You don't want to be Speaker, because it would be too much trouble. You don't want another Speaker, who won't know you as well as I do. Your only recourse is to keep me alive for as long as you can."

He pushed back the sleeve of his robe and held out his hand. He was a full head taller than Dra'thani, and the pawed fingers reaching for his wrist looked childlike in comparison to his.

"If the Speaker is wrong, it is very briefly he will regret his mistake," said Dra'thani, and bit him.