Here I said back at Chapter 1 that I wasn't going to add any vampires, and I've just realized I broke my promise. Darn it, and I was setting up the Anvil folks to be an important feature later on, too…
Oh, well. Sorry. Mistake regarding Ungolim's race is now fixed thanks to a helpful review.
Chapter 14
"I hate this place," muttered Varanu, staring up at the walls of the Imperial City. She stood outside the stable, waiting while Esgeriad bargained for lodging for their horses. The wall was so high that at this time of day it threw a complete shadow over the small building. Judging by the height of the grass, it must be a temporary condition, but Varanu didn't care for it. The shadow of the Imperium falls on everything. All roads lead back here.
And if there is anything a paladin of Arkay hates, it's shadow.
"How much?" she asked as Esgeriad stepped out from under the overhang that covered several bales of hay, one dyspeptic-looking paint horse, and a slightly dazed Orc.
"Nothing," Esgeriad said. "Nothing at all. I was able to barter my services instead."
"You didn't cut the Orc's hair. I'd have seen you."
"No, but I do have certain curative abilities that were, in this case, of some service. Ahem."
"Hm," Varanu said. "I guess we might as well get inside and start looking." She fingered the hilt of the scimitar as they walked toward the gates. A man in the steel plate armor of the Imperial Legion watched them with the expression of bored suspicion known to guards everywhere. Like many Imperial legionnaires, a heavy build plus full steel armor lent him somewhat the same appearance as a giant teakettle. He stood in the shadow beside one open gate, watching them, but he said nothing as they walked past and into the Talos Plaza district.
At least, it must've been a plaza once, Varanu thought. Three years after the closing of the gates, most buildings had gone from ruined to merely incomplete, stone stacked on stone and wooden roofs thrown up haphazardly on the uneven walls. The great round space in the middle had been cleared, and men were working to put the cobbles back in place even now. The sidewalk was buckled here and there, as if in an earthquake.
People were coming and going here, but not very many. One or two cast wary glances at the two mer. The workmen didn't even look up.
"And where shall we begin?" Esgeriad said.
"You're the one people talk to. You tell me."
"Inns are often a good place to hear rumors," Esgeriad said. "There is one over there." He inclined his head in the direction of a stone building exactly like the ones on either side of it. Only a hanging wooden sign over the door distinguished it as a place of business. A corner of the sign was missing. The broken edge was burnt.
So the owner has a sense of drama, Varanu thought dryly. Or in three years he'd have replaced his sign. There would be people to and from work at all hours of day and night in a place like the Imperial City. Better chance we'll meet someone who knows what's going on instead of the kind of lushes that'd be in a taproom this time of day anywhere else. For a species that makes so much booze, it beats me why humans can't hold their liquor.
She stopped beside the door. Esgeriad pushed it open and stood holding it. He looked at her expectantly.
"You go first," Varanu said.
He raised one eyebrow. Supercilious suspicion is an expression that fits the Altmeri facial structure very well. "Why?"
"Do you really want their first impression to be a surly-looking Dunmer in dented armor?"
"As you wish," Esgeriad said. He stepped inside. He still managed to hold the edge of the door open as she came in behind him. Varanu did her best to ignore this. "You might try scowling less. It will make you wrinkle faster, you know."
"The least of my problems," Varanu said. She looked the room over quickly. Four or five people were eating, and a Dunmer and an Imperial leaned against the bar. The barkeep blinked at the sight of Esgeriad and completely missed Varanu. Ha.
"Something I can do for you this fine day?" he said.
"Blessings of Dibella, sir," Esgeriad said pleasantly. "Ale for myself and my fellow knight." He went up and laid a few septims unostentatiously on the bar. The barkeep picked one up and bit it before he gathered up the others. He set a pair of bottles and two mugs on the bar. Varanu watched him open and pour, listening carefully to the room around her. There was no overt intimation of evil. A faint ptt noise, like someone sticking a pushpin into corkboard, came from over her head. She glanced casually upwards. Shadows shifted here and there, and then she saw a tail flicker down out of the shadow of a beam and up again.
"Is there supposed to be a Khajiit in your rafters, sera?" she asked.
The barkeep didn't even look up as he spoke. "Ah'dira, you get down here right this minute. What did I tell you about playing up there?"
A Khajiit in a plain brown dress landed beside him with a soft thump. She was slender, tawny, and very small, and her ears were neither notched nor pierced. Maybe thirteen years old. "This one is very sorry," she said, without any sign of contrition whatsoever. "This one has finished making the beds."
One or two of the other patrons chuckled. The Argonian said, "Ah, silly child. Long has it been since this one was so young."
"Get on with you and buy us some more bread," the barkeep said, not unkindly. "This is no place for you." He handed her a couple more septims and jerked his head toward the back of the taproom.
"Buy yourself a ribbon as well," Esgeriad said, and flicked another septim at her. She caught it easily in a dun-furred hand.
"Thank you, sir," she said prettily, and scampered off.
"Poor mite," the barkeep said, shaking his head. He glanced at Esgeriad, as if he had been the one to make the original comment. Varanu rolled her eyes. "Sorry. She doesn't know any better. She's well-behaved for having lost her mother so young, and I couldn't find anybody else after Sarah disappeared so suddenly."
"Disappeared?" Esgeriad said politely. Varanu turned her back to the bar and leaned there, sipping her ale as she listened.
"She went to the Arena one afternoon last month and I haven't seen her since," said the Imperial. There was a rasping noise as he scratched his balding head. "I told the Legion, but they're too busy to worry about one lost girl in this day and age. I'm sure they thought she'd just run off with some man."
"Do you think so?" Esgeriad said.
"No, I don't," the bartender said. "She was a good girl, and she liked it here. She would have given some notice if she planned to leave." He sighed. "I suppose we'll never know what happened to her."
I hope not, Varanu thought. "How old was she?" There was a slight pause as the barkeep adjusted to the fact of her existence.
"I never knew," he said. "She couldn't have been more than seventeen." Varanu compared this mentally against the contents of the necromancer's letter.
"And she was going to the Arena?" Esgeriad said.
"Sure, but I've got no way to know if she ever made it there or not."
"No, I suppose not," Esgeriad said.
-----
Marynd was awakened that night by an unexpected silence.
Not silence, exactly. Lying exhausted but unable to sleep, still weak from blood loss, Marynd was not at his most alert. Even so, the sound of indrawn breath was clear. He had heard no sound of footsteps. That ruled out both Dra'thani and Severn. Either Nee Ja has rethought her loyalties, which would be quite a surprise, or…
"Listener," Marynd said, and opened his eyes as he sat up. They were already well-adjusted to the dark, and Marynd had good night vision for a human. Thus, he had no trouble making out the Bosmer in the green silk tunic who stood just inside the door to his quarters. Ungolim was not a conspicuous mer. He looked a great deal like many others of his race, middle-height and long-eared and solemn. The plain bow slung over one shoulder was incongruous with his fine clothes, but it was the only thing out of place.
The Listener for the Dark Brotherhood smiled. "One day you're going to outthink yourself, Marynd," he said.
"Perhaps I already have," Marynd said. He stood up slowly. "Moebius is dead."
"Unfortunate, though not entirely unforeseen," said Ungolim. "This particular Sanctuary has never done well. You have perhaps heard some rumor relevant to the demise of your predecessor."
"Yes," said Marynd, whose information was considerably better than rumor. The Listener must know that, of course. "But that excuses nothing."
"I am pleased that you understand that," Ungolim said. "I come to you with a contract." Marynd listened impassively as the Bosmer explained what it was. It was not exactly the form he had expected his doom to take. As good as any other, and better than some.
"I understand," Marynd said at last. "Though it surprises me that there's anyone who knows this… person… well enough to pray for his death."
"Oh, never by name," Ungolim said. "But the Night Mother sees and hears what mortal eye and ear may not. And that is not the only reason for the contract. The Imperium under Chancellor Ocato remains fragile, even after three years. Overt chaos will not well serve our purposes, and that is what will result if this situation is left to fester."
"Yes," Marynd. "Yes, I see."
"Should you complete the contract, of course, the reward will be substantial," Ungolim said. "Should you fail, you will face Sithis without shame, having died in performance of your duties. Do I make myself clear?"
Marynd permitted himself a small, grim smile. "Perfectly," he said. "Your Speaker will obey."
"Good." Ungolim's glance flickered momentarily toward Marynd's bandaged wrist. "And next time, find someone else to feed your vampire."
"Yes, Listener," said Marynd.