Title: Mourner's Dawn

Author: Kytten

Pairing: Lucien Lachance/OMC

Rating: PG13

Disclaimer: Don't own.

Author's Note: Would anyone be interested in reading about Eldamil?

Chapter Fourteen: In which Ocato realizes Sam is a thief, can't bring himself to care overmuch and we finally get down to business.

The Draconian Madstone glittered without aid of any light, casting an odd glow in the space between them. Ocato leaned back into the pile of pillows behind him, and laughed.

"Thief," he accused without any real venom, draining the last of his glass and setting it aside.

Sam glared.

"She didn't pay me. She sent me trudging through Pale Pass and back and didn't have the decency to pay me!"

"So you stole it?"

"I took back what was mine," he said, glaring. "You know, I didn't come here to be called a thief."

"I rather suspect you didn't come to put the High Chancellor to bed either." He smiled. "But as you haven't been gracious enough to tell me why you have come…"

Sam looked away, one hand snaking its way back over the odd ache in the pit of his stomach.

"I think I've done something very stupid."

"You think?" Ocato frowned. This did not bode well. "What's happened?"

"You've heard stories from the Battle of Bruma, haven't you?"

Leaning back, the chancellor frowned.

"There were no causalities. The men considered it the gods' work."

Sam met his eyes though the odd glow of the Madstone.

"It was my work, actually."

Ocato's frown deepened. He wasn't sure where this was going, but it did not bode well.

"You are a healer?"

"No. A sort of Necromancer, actually."

Ocato laughed.

"I rather think the men would have noticed once their arms fell off that something wasn't entirely right."

"Which is why I say sort of." He looked down at his hands. "It's a sort of… gift. I can… call back the dead."

Ocato was silent for a long moment before finally, he spoke.

"I rather suspect there's a misplaced Dunmer somewhere in your family tree. Have you considered it?"

Lucien frowned as they circled the Imperial City, apparently making their way for the stables.

"You do realize if I find you've dragged me here for the usual reason, I will strangle you with your own entrails."

Shadowmare ignored him and kept on at a full gallop.

Apparently, this was it. Though why Sam had gone to the Imperial City was beyond him. With that do-gooder idiot Hieronymus Lex running around, however distracted by the Gray Fox, the Imperial City was not the safest place for a murderer. He couldn't count how many brothers and sisters had met their fate here. For Sam to enter the city willingly…

But then again, it was possible he simply didn't know. He wasn't used to being told where he could and could not go and so he ignored all warnings.

You forget he's the Champion of Cyrodill now. He can go where he likes.

Lucien frowned.

It was true, they'd be less likely to attack their Champion. In fact, they'd probably assume he had a reason for murdering a man if they were to catch him. It was possible they'd even let him go. Before they'd realized the purification of Cheydinhal had been a useless waste, Sam had spoken incessantly of Hieronymus. And, he realized, Ocato.

Chances were, he'd be following one or the other. And if Lucien were a gambling sort of fellow… well, he'd probably put his money on Ocato.

Then, that was probably wistful thinking. Were he to attack Hieronymus, he'd have his work cut out for him. But the aging High Chancellor?

Lucien smiled as Shadowmare stopped outside the Talos Plaza district.

If he were right, today was about to get very interesting.

Sam glared at Ocato, the chancellor with an odd twist to his lips that betrayed his stifled laugh.

"You know that's not the problem."

"My apologies. I've had a horrible week and the filter that keeps me from saying ridiculous things broke yesterday. You'd probably do best to ignore me."

Sam sighed and looked down at his hands again. He had only the faintest inkling of what had happened to him and it was not good. It didn't help that currently, Ocato was in the midst of the worst week in his life and was essentially about to be out of commission for quite awhile.

The stunning insights and remarkably clear advice he had hoped to receive were apparently, not about to happen.

"You could, however, inform the contents of my room as to your actual problem, if you liked. This glass, for instance," he said, filling a second glass full of brandy before handing it to Sam, "is often very good at giving advice."

Sam downed it in a single, clean gulp before looking up.

"Not sure what it said, to be honest."

Ocato smiled.

"I'm certain I heard have another."

Getting into the Imperial Palace was disappointingly easy. The guards, relaxed now that someone had herded Ocato off to his chambers, simply welcomed him inside with the same warning as ever.

And Lucien had nodded politely, opened up the council chamber doors and slipped into his shadows. It was, as he realized some time later, a completely useless precaution. The guards had gone back to their card game shortly after he entered, and his sudden Chameleon spell went entirely unnoticed.

That was the least of his problems now, however, as he found himself now in a hallway packed with guards. Pressed as far into a niche in the wall as he possibly could, he kept low, making sure his shadows were firmly in place.

He had, perhaps, underestimated Ocato's guards just a little.

"Well, I must say that was a completely idiotic thing to do, Sam." Ocato took the bottle from him, to pour himself another glass. "You could have been killed. Or dragged under by the Guardians."

"There are no fetching Guardians," Sam growled. "I've never seen one in my gods damned life and I've been doing this for… for ages," he finished, realizing he'd drunken rather more than he'd previously expected.

"Well, I've never seen Mankar Camoran," Ocato stated, sounding irritatingly logical. "And obviously, as you killed him, he exists."

"Existed. An' I am not entirely to credit. Eldamil, I'll have you know, helped quite a bit."

"That name sounds very familiar." Ocato frowned.

"One of Camoran's lieutenants. The one he wasn't related to."

Ocato was silent for a long moment, that frown firmly in place. Then, suddenly, he looked up.

"Blond, was he? With a funny little curl to the end?"

Sam nodded and reached for the newly opened bottle.

"Yeah. S'him. Pretty bugger." After fighting with the cork a bit, he looked up. "You know him?"

Ocato laughed.

"He was an initiate in the Mages' Guild when I was still Arch Mage. I wouldn't remember him, except he was constantly ranting on about our entire system being obsolete and outdated. Apparently he thought rank should be based on skill rather than odd jobs done for the guild."

"I saw him shoot Ruma Camoran across the room." Sam chuckled. "He sent her flying into Camoran right in the middle of his great, dramatic speech. Funny as all hell, that."

Ocato nodded.

"He was talented. I'll admit that. He challenged me for my title more than once."

"I thought you said he was only an initiate?"

"He was." Ocato laughed. "We don't advance mages for attempting to kill their superiors."

"Ah," Sam said, because it sounded like a good answer, and poured himself another glass.

Logically, he realized he was becoming quite drunk. Unfortunately, it was not something he could bring himself to care about at the moment.

"Is there something that can be done?" he asked, recorking the bottle.

"About what?" Ocato frowned. "You wading into the void for people? No. I rather think that's a matter of poor judgment, Sam."

"No," he glared at the glass in his hand, realizing he hadn't gotten past the point where Eldamil called him a complete and total idiot with nix-hound shit for brains. "This bloke was in too deep, you see. He couldn't get out alone. I sort of had to… well, grab him."

Ocato spun, the glass nearly dropping from his hand.

"You what?"

Sheepish, Sam laughed.

"I was sort of hoping you'd understand."