Author's notes: Oblivion and all its characters, places, events, etcetera are property of Bethesda Softworks.

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Chapter Twenty: Long Weeks, Right Questions

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I woke early and got up. With everything in my mind buzzing from last night I was amazed I'd slept at all. I was rummaging around in the kitchen and contemplating whether or not I wanted to fry up a few eggs – I decided not –and was just turning out of the kitchen when Lucien turned into it, showing the classic signs of waking up before the sleeping draught was ready to let him. There was one of those moments when everyone dances around and he wound up in the kitchen and I wound up out without us getting tripped or tangled. "Well – I'm awake now…" he said a little dully, and rubbed his eyes.

He looked leftovers warmed up, four days after a big party. Mmm hmm. It was pretty bad – but he was up. "So, did that stuff work for you?" I asked mildly. Aside from the obvious signs, I had noticed that there was a measure missing when I had reclaimed the bottle this morning.

Lucien gave a rather wry smile; it looked like a lot of work. "Oh yeah – it even took care of my hangover," he said blandly, though it was something of a relief to me, because it was obviously an attempt at a joke.

I smiled, a little emptily, but it was a decent effort. "You know I'm here for you, boss."

"See if you still feel that way once Vicente takes a look at the contracts," Lucien called from the kitchen.

I poked my head back into the kitchen, to find Lucien with his back to me, rifling through the pantry. I opened my mouth to ask what would probably end up being a stupid question, then shook my head and walked, yawning into the common room.

"Oh, you're up," Vicente had a handful of papers and was looking harassed, though more composed and in better spirits than Lucien or I. Which isn't to say he wasn't disturbed by the death in the Family, or the Troubles, it just means he's better at hiding it.

"Yeah," I yawned.

"Good – I've got four contracts for you – mostly easy alley-basher, cloak and dagger, knife in the back types of job..." Vicente rattled off the contracts, marks and locations and I blinked at him. I turned to see Lucien duck back into the kitchen.

I felt a ghost of a grin touch my face. "Oi! Lucien? What the hell?!" I barked.

"That's business!" he called back clearly and I suspected that – on a normal day – he might have laughed at me.

"That's bullshit!" But I winked at Vicente – who chuckled softly and patted my shoulder, as if to say 'good for you, keeping your mood up'.

Lucien reappeared, carrying a glass of milk. I was by now used to seeing him in a 'normal' light that this did not bother me in the slightest – especially not with four contracts lined up back to back. I had never heard of such a thing, though I do realize that I haven't exactly been here for forever. "I thought you liked being busy," he said mildly, and I think he was rather glad of something loud, that could distract him from current difficulty.

Well, I was definitely loud. I smiled sweetly. "I like having something to do – but what happened? Someone predict the end of the world, and there's sudden a rush to live it up while you can?"

Lucien nearly spewed his milk at the audacity and unblushing-ness of the comment, and I smirked. "Careful boss-man," I advised, smirking.

"Get on with it," he pointed at me a little theatrically with his glass. "Off you go – it being you, I'm not sure whether to count that as a joke or an attempt for me to have an unfortunate 'accident'."

I laughed and patted his shoulder, as Vicente had done for mine. "Accidents have nothing to do with it," I said sweetly, and Vicente handed me the handful of contracts.

"You can stop here in between them – but they are lined up. We're going to be very busy for a few weeks, it looks like," Vicente said. "And that means everyone," he said with a meaningful look at Lucien.

"Oh, yes," Lucien said. He looked ruefully at his milk. "I'll see you both later."

"Maybe," I said frowning at the four contracts. Two were fairly close together, if I could memorize them, I could do them, one right after the other, then come back for the others – save a little travel time.

"Meanwhile – report on Bruma," Vicente commanded mildly.

"Oh, yeah," I grinned and shrugged: I had half-forgotten I needed to report in, upon completion of the contract. I had had a lot on my mind aside from my real job.

--S--

Vicente smiled at me – a real, genuine smile of a headmaster pleased with a pupil – as I recounted the assassination, from my arrival in Bruma onward. "I am pleased – well done," he smiled a little more coldly, and got up. I already knew that the Dark Brotherhood always seems to know when things are done…it's creepy, and I have not yet inquired as to how they know. I simply accept it, for the time being.

"As promised, the blood price for you," he handed me a small, soft leather pouch, which I pocketed without paying attention to it. I had already learned that these pouches were enchanted: they could hold any number of coins, and yet the purse itself was no larger than my palm.

"And for completing the contract to the client's specifications," he retrieved from another table – beside his wine and book – a small wooden box. It was very plain, and had magical wards on it. Vicente waved at them and the marks faded from the wood. I looked closely, in the moment when Vicente was standing within arm's reach, at the box. It bore the marks of having been in storage for a while. "This is your bonus – and well deserved, I believe," he said and opened the box.

It was lined with purple silk, and on this bed, in this plain box, resided a beautifully curved blade that – despite the warm lights of the magelight torches – looked cold as Bruma had been. The blade was keen, and the handle was leather-wrapped –a recent job, I decided. The more I used it, the more it would conform to the shape of my hand, becoming a personalized weapon. Granted, I'd have to rewrap it every few months, but still…the craftsmanship was lovely.

As much as I love my Blade of Woe, she's a fairly mundane blade…imbued with sentimental value only. But with this one, I could feel the magical properties of the knife as if they were listed on a placard. Scrolling along the center of the blade – well away from the cutting edges - were Aldmeri curlicues of writing, and when I flipped the knife over, there was the Imperial equivalent.

"Sufferthorn," Vicente said softly. "This blade has history – and it is now yours. It shall serve you well, I think, in days to come. You'll note, it's not as long as your Blade of Woe…but you'll find its bite is far worse than it looks."

"I know…" I said softly. Sufferthorn was only the length of my forearm, from hilt to tip, a hand-length smaller than the Blade of Woe, and considerably lighter. "I can feel it…"

"Yes – I forget you're no novice in the arcane," but they were empty words. He hadn't forgotten. He knew perfectly well what my capabilities were – how else would he know when to assign me, instead of Gogron? Or Tel?

--S--

Over the next two weeks, the Black Hand was running Lucien into the ground, and he was keeping us so busy that we hardly ever saw our other Sanctuary mates – Vicente and Ocheeva had to take over virtually all the cooking, because we would come back from one contract, eat, sleep for a few hours, eat breakfast, and be off on another the next morning. There was just no letting up.

I saw Lucien once during this span, and it was just long enough for him to drop – literally, as in 'forget the ladder, and just drop – down the well looking very harassed, find a live person – me, in this case – and say, "hello goodbye, give these to Vicente," thrust a satchel of papers at me and then he was gone again, with a swirl of cloak and robes.

I stood there, in the middle of the common room trying to un-jumble what he'd said and then automatically turned to walk the papers to Vicente's office.

We were that busy.

--S--

Well, after about two weeks like that, things finally slowed back down, to the point that when we were home, we could actually enjoy each other's company. I kept my word to Vicente and Lucien, and didn't mention even a hint that anything was wrong, save that by this time, everyone knew that Elrick was dead, and were well on the way to getting over his death.

I suspected it would take Lucien longer, as he knew Elrick better than we did, but I kept reminding myself that this Traitor couldn't hide forever. How do you hide in a place like this - like I said, you trip over people, even once you get used to doing it.

--S--

"Twenty…nine…" Gogron grunted.

"Careful Gogron," Tel said mildly, not looking up from her latest book. "You'll burst something."

I snickered softly, the joke not lost, and flicked a page of my sheaf of papers over. The three of us were in the workroom, though Gogron was the only one working. Tel and I were both reading, as Gogron exercised. The weather was windy and threatening, so we had retreated down to the Sanctuary.

Originally, Tel and I had been working on my marksmanship, which I'm pleased to say is getting better, I'm still not fantastic, but I can hit the target when I need to.

"Thirty…she-devil…" Gogron grunted at Tel, who reached over and ran a finger around the curve of his jaw.

"Mm hmm," she agreed.

"What the hell is this?"

"This is me reading your paperwork, Tel reading her book, and Gogron keeping occupied, boss-man," I looked up and grinned and clicked my tongue. "Oh, no robes a – not-boss-man-today-boss-man," I corrected myself and grinned at Tel and winking. It was no surprise, the question Lucien had posed as he walked into the workroom, a rather inscrutable expression his face.

Tel and I were sitting on a bench, and that bench was being – get this - bench-pressed by Gogron.

That was why we weren't in the training room proper – no benches.

And when Gogron said thirty, he means two hundred and thirty. The muscle bound orc-mountain doesn't break sweat – says Tel – until three hundred. So far, she was right.

"And why do you have my paperwork?" Lucien asked, a ghost of a disbelieving grin spreading across his face.

The paperwork in question consisted of the completed contracts, validated and countersigned by Vicente and the assassin who completed them. "Vicente's got a migraine…something about sharing the discomfort…I guess he means having to talk to me," I grinned harmlessly.

Lucien gave me a look that indicated he didn't believe 'harmless' for a second, and plucked the papers delicately from my hand and I let him have them, smirking slightly. It was good to see that he was feeling a little better.

Gogron had stopped the rise and fall of the bench and Tel wasn't reading anymore.

I smile blankly at Lucien, my very best look of overwhelming innocence.

"Keep working on that smile, Sarielle, and I'll almost believe it," he said and tapped my knee with the sheaf of papers.

"Oh, by the way," I added just as he reached the door. "He's not even here right now. Won't do you any good to go talk to him," it was very cloudy and Vicente had taken advantage of this to get away.

"Where did he go?" Lucien turned.

"No idea," I shrugged innocently.

"Told you – talking to the crazy one is useless," Gogron grunted to Tel and began the rise and fall of the bench.

I've been 'crazy' ever since I teasingly told Gogron that at this rate, we the Family would be the last people left in Cyrodiil, and if that was the case, we'd better get a move on, so we could enjoy being the only people left in Cyrodiil before the end of the world – referring to an earlier statement.

I was, of course, joking about our workload.

"No. No, you've missed the point…stop that a moment, Gogron," Lucien responded, and walked back over and put a hand on the bench and exerted enough force that the orc stopped the motion. "You just have to ask her the right questions," he gave me a piercing look, and I did my best to give a blank look back. Then his mouth turned up at the corners. "Case and point: Sarielle, is Antoinetta cooking tonight?" Lucien asked, looking bemused.

I smiled. "Yes."

"And I suspect Ocheeva is still out?"

I beamed at him – Ocheeva and Teinaava both had been requested for a contract – unusual to say the least, for two assassins to be dispatched for one job, but, as they're twins… "Very good," it was an excellent imitation of Lucien's own one of rather condescending praise.

"See? Always ask the right questions, Gogron," Lucien smiled at me and I smiled back. "Better – much better," he nodded approvingly and walked out of the training room.

"It only works if you know the right questions to ask, boss," I called cheekily after him.

Lucien paused in the doorway then shook his head and vanished out of sight.

"Oooh…you're getting good at playing his own games back at him," Tel said approvingly. "He practically let you walk away from that one unscathed."

"Yeah – it's hilarious. I keep waiting to see he what he's gonna do about it. I can't believe he's just going let me win," it's true: I've heard stories from Vicente about people who got smart with Lucien and one of them ran off in tears.

Never heard what he actually said to her, but I suspect it was cruel and cutting. He has no patience for idiots. Then again, my brand of 'smart' is more a sense of humor and a quick wit than being smart to be rude, disrespectful, or anything of the like. I also suspect he's biding his time to come at me when I'm not expecting it – ambush tactics, you know.

"You should…pick your fights a little better…" Gogron said and he began levering Tel and I up and down again. "That's a scary bastard. I mean that as a compliment."

"Of course he is, that's half the fun right there..." I smiled and crossed my knees, and grinned over at Tel.

"You're…sick…twisted…" Gogron laughed though. "Still…didn't come up with a really good retort…did he Tel?"

"Oh no – I was expecting something to make her blush or steal words right out of her mouth…she's dangerous," Tel reached over and patted my shoulder. "Keep him on his toes, love, he needs it."

I snorted in a very unladylike way at this. "Ah – I don't think Lucien ever is off his toes," I shook my head. "Nah – just keep him off balance…that might work..." I snickered.

"Sarielle. I'd like a word," Lucien's voice echoed from the common room.

"Several, I'll bet," I said as Gogron lowered the bench and Tel and I both slipped off at the same time. "Here comes the retribution for being smart-mouthed. If I cry or blush, I'll make this my first stop…" but I grinned. I was having a good day, it would take a lot to ruin it.

"Deal with Antoinetta's…garlic-flavored experiments," Lucien said, putting the sheaf of papers in a satchel, as soon as I was visible.

"What do you want me to do about it? I've got no seniority..." I began but stopped, and not because it was widely accepted that, like the sky was blue, and the moons were growing holes, Antoinetta would cook with garlic.

Lucien arched his eyebrows at me, and a faint smile was toying around his mouth – he was laughing at me without openly doing so, because I had just killed my own argument, before I even started.

I opened my mouth and gave my imitation of a large mouthed bass. I had forgotten: three days ago, Vicente told me that I had been promoted to Slayer – the same rank as Antoinetta. It was such a recent appointment, and we work in such a way that rank is mostly never used between Family members (except in Lucien's case, obviously), that I was still liable to forget – even if I knew it in the back of my mind.

Then Lucien gave me a piercing look that wiped the smile off my face – or rather, off my mind, my mouth remained still pleasantly upturned, but I know he saw the smile fade from my eyes.

He was not – before you worry – about to tell me I'd violated the Tenants. There's a difference between disobedience and giving someone crap – I was doing the latter, and we both knew it.

"Improvise," he purred and shouldered his satchel. It was a dare, a challenge, an order, and a test.

"All right," I said flatly. He knows, very well, that I like a challenge and that I have trouble walking away from one.

Dammit. He's really dangerous.

"See that it's taken care of before I get back," he shrugged his robes on and gave me another look as he buttoned them up. He was laughing at me – but it was a relief to know he was at a point where he could laugh, so I smiled genuinely back at him.

"Yes, Speaker," a little sarcastic? Maybe, but I bowed my head politely and marched bravely into the kitchen. With a comment like that, it meant he'd be back relatively soon – which meant I needed to hustle. Not that I thought there would be any serious repercussions if I failed, but there would be –at the very least – a blow to my credibility.

And he'd get that annoying little smirk – the one look that makes me want to haul off and try to whale on him. And I have learned from Gogron's mistakes - watch out for paralysis spells.

Well, it's time to see just how well my skills of tact, diplomacy and (I hate to say it) subtle manipulation are.

I mean, what hell does he want me to do, anyway? 'Improvise' he says,

Dammit – he 'sbeat me at his own game.

Why should that surprise me…I mean, hello, it is his game…but still, I had thought I was getting better.

"Sari?" Tel called from the workroom.

"I'm still dry-eyed and my normal color!" I called back automatically, and heard chuckles – I sounded like I'd come off the worse from a bout of verbal sparring.

I considered a moment and then made a snap decision, with regards to Antoinetta. "Oi! Antoinetta!" I hollered.

Antoinetta was in the kitchen and looked up; garlic in hand, several lying chopped on a cutting board. I took the cloves from her and took the cutting board in my free hand and put them both out of her reach with a sigh.

Time to play hardball.

"Antoinetta, do you love Vicente at all?" I asked calmly.

Antoinetta goggled at me like I'd goggled at Lucien. "Of course I do! How can you…" she looked so shocked that I would suggest otherwise that I half wondered if she was about to have one of her scary moments, and try and gut me with the knife that was dangerously close to her hand.

"Then why, for the love of the Night Mother and of Vicente himself, are you trying to kill him?" I was getting more comfortable with the ideas of Sithis and the Night Mother…I didn't consider myself indoctrinated, but she sounded like the kind of lady I could respect, admire, and be pleased to serve.

And the longer I'm here, the more the Dark Brotherhood seems like a family-run business, once the cousins are brought in, than anything else. Maybe it differs from Sanctuary to Sanctuary.

I will admit, though, that the concept of Sithis still made me a little uncomfortable, and I was glad to know that Gogron at least, didn't trouble himself about either topic. He was paid to kill people – he was happy as a clam. Tel was the one a couple steps short of being a fanatic. She's already aiming for the position of Listener.

I love Tel like a sister, but I don't think she'd make a very good Listener. In fact everyone says they want the top job, because it's the top job…but it sounds to me like there is very little field work involved. This conclusion was drawn from a conversation I'd had with Vicente just a day ago, about being a Speaker. You're almost totally removed from the field…and installed into something like bureaucracy. Which makes me wonder if Lucien is really happy being a Speaker in the first place.

Though, it doesn't sound like an appointment you'd turn down…

But I think, I rather suspect, that he misses being a field man. At least as a field man, you see results…as part of the paper chain…all you see is more paperwork, and that sounds like a pretty bad place for an intelligent, energetic person to be.

Vicente didn't agree outright, but he didn't tell me I was too far off the mark, either. Which makes me suspect I had inferred the truth more closely than I realized at the time, and Vicente just wasn't going to give me a free hand.

He likes to watch me think – so why on Nirn would he allow me to think less? ­– and he also likes to watch Lucien and I match wits so he's not about to give either of us any more insight into the other than he can help, these days. Nope - no free hands from the vampire.

I love Vee to death – he's a great teacher.

"I…" Antoinetta stammered, looking shocked.

"No, Antoinetta, this," I shook the handful of garlic cloves at her, "is death in a bowl for Vicente. No – it's worse it's like a…it's like a contact poison. See these?" I walked over and rooted around in the pantry. "These are onions –same family, but completely safe for our resident vampire," I handed her the onions. "You can never have enough onions. Use the onions..."

Whoo….Lucien is going to hate me for this…!

I love onion soup, and that was what I was planning to teach her to make. If Lucien doesn't like it, he should have been more specific. And that's what I'll tell him, in that oh-so-sweet-and-innocent tone I've been perfecting, if he gives me crap about the onions. Hehehehe…we'll see how he takes it.

"What am I supposed to do with these?" Antoinetta asked blankly, looking dubiously at the onions.

I smiled, rather wickedly: the same thing you do with the garlic. Try to make soup. Of course, I could hardly say this to Antoinetta – no kicking of puppies, remember? "We'll improvise. For Vicente's sake…we'll improvise," I smiled and Antoinetta's mouth turned up a little at the corners. I think she might have recognized the source of the comment, even if she had missed the actual conversation.

--S--

"What's…all this…?" Lucien blinked owlishly, motioning to Antoinetta and myself. He looked suspicious and highly quizzical after following the sounds of a loud chorus of song echoing from the kitchen, and finding Antoinetta and I in full swing.

I beamed and Antoinetta reached up and nudged a straying lock of hair out of her face, rosy cheeked and smiling. I was covered in flour, potato peelings, and probably smelled like raw beef. "Dinner –Antoinetta and I are cooking," I said, stating the obvious so superbly that Lucien's eyes narrowed and I could just hear the comment, 'thank you, commander obvious' hanging in the air. "Tonight, it's kabobs, and sweet onion soup. No garlic, as instructed," I winked at him.

Lucien's mouth actually twitched and I smirked.

Yeah – and you though I couldn't do it. No charm spells required, Mr. Dubious. Hehehe.

"Out of the frying pan into the fire," Lucien responded smoothly and mock-fatalistically. "Don't let her get carried away, Antoinetta," Lucien smirked at me, indicating clearly he knew this comment would ruffle my feathers.

I didn't give him the satisfaction of grimacing – who needs to be kept from getting carried away? "You should have time to clean up before supper!" I hollered as he vanished out the kitchen. I considered for a split second. "And shave!"

Antoinetta burst into laughter, snorting softly as she tried to stifle it.

"The man's positively scruffy," I said, making as much noise as Gogron does, though I was actually in a pretty good mood. I had gotten the last word in, and felt like I had held my own in this match of wits. Now, whether Lucien had been really trying or not, I don't know…I was pretty sure 'not'. But I was still amused.

Antoinetta was too, but for another reason. The 'scruffy' comment had sent her back into peals of laughter.

"A man that good-looking shouldn't hide behind his whiskers," I stated.

Now, I want to make it clear, I don't mind admitting that Lucien is attractive. It doesn't mean anything, though. I enjoy his company, I enjoy matching wits, but really, that's as far as it goes.

I'm not in denial, it's just how it is. Otherwise I'd be blushing and embarrassed and tripping all over myself, looking like an idiot.

And I detest looking like an idiot.

"Are you kidding?" Antoinetta giggled. "It's an insurance policy –so he doesn't get mobbed."

"Yeah, kind of hard to do your job when you're mobbed by adoring, devious fans," I said dryly, but I still grinned. "You think he heard any of that?"

Antoinetta shrugged.

It was plainly obvious that I didn't care, either way.