When Mercer arrived he was unimpressed to see Marcurio sitting alone in the inn, close by a window in the shadows of the crowded ground floor, creating an obvious puddle with his heavy, drenched robes. He hastened to the mage with Vex close in his wake whilst Thrynn chose to go the bar, certain that they weren't going anywhere else for a while.

"Where is she?" Mercer snapped.

Marcurio gestured at the window he was turned towards with a pale, damp finger. The glass was dirty but there was enough visibility despite the dark smudges and streaks of water for Mercer to make out the form of a woman seated outside in a small, cobblestoned area, down on her knees, her head and right arm resting on the edges of a forgotten, cracked fountain. If the rain had not been falling so heavily one might have speculated that she was resting but with such poor weather it was clear she was either grieving or had collapsed.

"I went after her," Marcurio remarked bluntly, "but she insisted on being alone." He looked at the Guild Master coldly and added, "to the point of drawing a dagger on me. I know, she wouldn't have dared but if she wants privacy that badly I'm not going to interfere."

"Even if she freezes to death?" Vex commented bitingly.

The mage looked at the pale haired thief warily, recalling her from Riften though her name escaped him. "You don't know what happened," he remarked defensively.

"No, we don't," Mercer retorted quietly, his gaze still on Amaris, "but I would certainly like to."

"Leave her out there," Vex suggested carelessly, "she will learn her lesson when a chill is upon her. She's being foolish and dramatic, no need for anyone else to drown with her. Besides, Mercer," she addressed her superior deliberately, wary of how his eyes were still on the redhead, "there is nowhere for her to go except back in here."

Mercer cocked his head back to the Imperial as she addressed him by name; he gave her a frosty look of curiosity and waited for her to continue on.

Sensing that she would have to continue her argument Vex glanced briefly to the bar and then back to Mercer. "You won't get any sense out of her," she reasoned, "not in her condition. Let's enjoy a drink and dry off. Look," she added reluctantly, "if she's not indoors in an hour I'll drag her in myself but I'm sure Cynric will have her in before then. Anyway, she's a grown woman," she added hotly, "let her sulk if she wants, she's old enough to know the risks of rain and cold weather. Come on, we should celebrate our success."

Mercer frowned as he deliberated on Vex's suggestion for a moment. He knew she was right, Amaris was clearly not in a state to be co-operative and explain what had gone on in the Blue Palace, the mage would not talk either, probably feeling it was up to the redhead to confess all, and Cynric was busy with that other man. Despite Mercer's impatient desires to hear an explanation for Amaris' public and bloody state he knew he would not get it soon. 'The mage is watching her,' he thought to himself, 'and there is only one door out of that miserable excuse for a garden, and it's back in here.'

"Alright," he muttered, "a drink then."

Vex gave a small smile at this before leading the way to the crowded bar. The inn itself was large, made of stone with wooden floors; it was well lit with a large fire set high in a stone base with a stone and copper plated chimney above it, and several candles hung on the walls and on stone columns in steel holders. The main decoration was a skeever's snarling head hung up on a wooden plaque behind the oak bar from which a coppery blonde Imperial male and a youthful blonde Imperial female provided service. The tables were all wooden and round, decorated with a strip of steel studs that ran around the edges of the tables and in one line across them; and the chairs were of mahogany, short with round posts at their backs and round knobs at the top of their legs. Adding some style were thin rugs of amber and turquoise with tattered ends and numerous stains of vomit, blood, alcohol and grease to mar their colours.

Thanks to the rain and the inn being the main inn of Solitude, the place was crowded and it was no surprise that when Cynric and Kester finally arrived there were no seats. Exhausted and struggling to calm Kester in the crowds, Cynric tried to get to the bar, half-dragging the assassin with him. Kester glanced about in a nervous movement with hostile blue eyes, muttering at the Nords, cursing the Altmer and grinning madly at the Argonians. When he started to clap out of time with the Breton bard's music and sing his own song about elven wenches, the delights of stars and a Nord king's nudity, Cynric decided quickly that it would be best putting the assassin in a room.

The thief looked wearily at the blonde Imperial behind the bar when after fifteen minutes of impatient pushing and cursing he finally made it to the front of the queue. He forced a charming smile to his face and quipped, "would there be any rooms left?"

The young woman took in the soaked thief before glancing over to the wild looking man who accompanied him and was currently trying to balance glasses on top of each other. "There might be," she said cautiously.

Cynric, too occupied with Kester to properly charm, tugged out a pouch of recently stolen coin and placed it pointedly on the sticky, wooden surface. "Would that be enough for there definitely to be a room, preferably two?"

The woman plucked the pouch up quickly, opened it carefully and then weighed it on one hand. It was a mixture of silver and copper septims and enough for the Imperial's dark eyes to light up. "Yes I would say so," she answered with a smile. "Luckily for you most people in here aren't staying, at least they're not paying to, I suppose most of them will pass out down here."

Cynric nodded, trying to curb his intolerance as Kester started stabbing his dagger down rapidly between gaps in his fingers. The woman looked at the fresh dents in the bar's surface with disapproval. "Could I have the keys now please?" Cynric asked with an almost pleading smile.

She nodded and hurried to fetch them. Returning she informed him, "they're on the second floor to your left, beside each other."

"Thank you." Cynric took the keys from the Imperial quickly, grabbed Kester tightly by his collar and pulled him back through the throng of people towards the stairs. "You can stay upstairs," he snapped back to the man as they reached the stairs at last.

Vex saw Cynric and Kester arrive, go to the bar and then to the stairs. She frowned, rolled her eyes and turned her attention back on Mercer. She and he were in a secluded spot, as far from Marcurio and his window as Vex could get them, though it did not stop the thief master from looking over at it every ten minutes. Vex had made a point of buying a particularly potent ale to take the edge off her temper and calm her slightly frayed nerves. Now she was on her third bottle whilst Mercer drank his second purposely slow. Vex knew the man was not an avid drinker but she was unwilling to believe he was such a weak one either.

"We're celebrating," she reminded him, almost forcefully. "Look, let's just forget our troubles for one night, yes? Sapphire and the others will be here soon and I think we should all have a good time, just for one night."

Mercer looked at her with an unimpressed expression. "Do as you like," he retorted without concern before looking back to the window once more.

Vex gritted her teeth and swallowed down a curse. 'Will I make good on my word and drag her in here soon?' she wondered. 'Someone should tell her what a burden she is; she'll ruin our whole Guild without even trying. Mercer should be in Riften fixing things not here chasing after ghost treasure.'

When Cynric finally joined them, having abandoned Kester in his own room, he brought Thrynn over as well and several fresh bottles of mead, which he offered to Vex and Mercer.

"Who was that man?" Mercer was quick to the point as he glowered at the younger Breton.

Cynric flinched at the anger in Mercer's stare and thought to himself, 'stupid to think one drink would make him forgive me. Well Amaris did say we technically didn't do anything wrong, he didn't order us to stay away from the palace.' He swallowed a deep sip from his own bottle as he contemplated an answer. "Kester," he went for the truth.

Mercer glared at him, waiting for him to continue and Cynric was not surprised to see that Mercer was only mildly startled by this information. 'Of course he guessed at it,' the Breton thought, 'he always seems to pick up on everything.' He glanced about the room and spied Marcurio at last. "Where's Amaris?" he queried.

"Outside," Mercer answered stiffly, his gaze going to the window yet again.

"I'll fetch her," Vex spoke up suddenly, "you two finish catching up." She shot Cynric a sly smile before heading to the door before Mercer could.

"Well," Mercer said coldly, snapping Cynric's attention from Vex back to him, "how in all of Oblivion did Kester Navingo end up in the Blue Palace? And do you think you could have attracted any more attention in there?" he added sardonically. "Of all the places to take her, you know the danger she's in here-"

"She wanted to go," Cynric cut him off hastily, "and you didn't ban us, and I thought it could help her memories."

"I didn't ban you," Mercer snapped back with a scolding glare, "because I thought one of the three of you might have had better sense. If the Thalmor are going to be about you can guarantee they would linger there, never mind everyone else, envoys from all over, if you wanted word of her to get across Skyrim quickly you couldn't have done it better. Wandering about in front of nobles and delegates covered in blood with a madman screaming at a palace wizard, and an Altmer at that! Why didn't you just hang a damn sign on yourself?!"

Cynric shrank back from his superior, glancing about as he noticed Mercer's yell had garnered them a couple of suspicious looks. Thrynn tried to play deaf, looking in every direction except the thieves' before finishing the rest of his ale and hastening back to the bar. "Look," Cynric pleaded, "can we talk about this later, more privately perhaps? I'll say this much, Sheogorath was involved-"

"WHAT?!" Mercer roared before he could help himself.

Some of the closer patrons fell silent whilst others consciously shifted away from the Breton. Cynric gulped down the last of his ale, wiped his lip and grinned dumbly at the Guild Master. "I...I couldn't have planned it, I swear, or prevented it. She just wanted to look at the palace, just the outside but then there was this beggar and he was babbling about his master and one thing lead to another and..."

"Shut up," Mercer growled out. He had spotted Vex and Amaris at last. The redhead was paler than usual, almost blue, drenched from head to toe though she did not quiver. She glanced up at Vex who pointed over in Marcurio's direction. Amaris headed towards the mage, pausing just once to look Mercer and Cynric's way with an empty stare.

Vex rejoined the thieves with a satisfied smile, though inside she filled with annoyance at being soaked once more and so soon after she had started to dry off. "There, she's inside and perfectly fine," she commented acidly, "now, can we lighten up and enjoy our victory?"

Cynric grinned and nodded though his cerulean stare betrayed his worry and Vex noticed how it flickered to Amaris. She sat opposite Marcurio, both of them soaked and in silence with no drinks or food between them. They seemed awkward and yet there was no hostility and neither of them made to move.

The day descended into evening, welcoming Sapphire and Vipir into the now rowdy inn. They joined the other thieves, and Vipir was quick to order stronger drinks for their small party, eager to catch up on the celebrations. Cynric had now brightened up, satisfied that Mercer wasn't going to kill him just yet, and had tried to get Marcurio and Amaris to join them in drinking, teasing them for being gloomy. Accepting that Amaris was unwilling, he had given her coin to rent a room, before insisting that Marcurio shared some Winking Shots with him.

As the evening wore on, Amaris finally left to her room leaving Marcurio to dance with the Breton bard Lisette and Vipir and Thrynn to a strange game with some Nords that involved wooden plates with colourful symbols on them and stripping. Mercer, ever wary of drink since their night with Sam, was deliberately drinking slower and less than everyone else, whilst Cynric was quite happily dulling his bad memories with as much drink as he could manage.

Vex watched Mercer, wanting to say or do something that would make him look her way and notice her, be drawn in the way most of the women in the inn were to Cynric. She had tried, after a few glasses of fine blue wine, to attract the Guild Master's attention with words but the sharp tongued Imperial was above flirting and unwilling to lower herself to it and so Mercer's responses had been blunt and uninterested. She had thought with Amaris gone to bed that her only obstacle had been removed but Mercer's abrasive attitude and broody look made it clear that there was one more obstacle in the way, Mercer himself.

She tried to draw up some courage with another gulp of sweet wine but then she saw him head to the stairs and realised that it was too late, the Breton was finally retiring to bed. She sighed in frustration and thought several curses before turning her attention to the rest of the room. She burned inside with a feeling of humiliation and rejection even though Mercer had not actually rejected her. 'Am I not attractive enough?' she wondered imprudently. 'Or intelligent enough? What am I lacking?'

The thief knew then that she could not go to bed alone, it would feel like too much of a defeat. Her pale amber stare fell on Cynric, smirking proudly at the small bevy of beautiful women who laughed at some dumb story he told, and then batted their long eyelashes at him as they vied for his attention. 'Let me prove I'm better than that hoard,' the Imperial thief thought viciously as she stepped towards him.

Cynric looked up as he saw Vex approaching, frosty eyed with her lip tugged down in a scowl that could not mar her attractive features. He dared not look hopeful as he deliberately turned his attention back to the brunette Nord who was stroking his left arm playfully and asking him to talk more about his adventures in Ivarstead.

"Cynric," Vex said his name as warmly as she could as she made it through the throng of women to stand before him.

He glanced up at her and his blue eyes widened in surprise as she kissed him suddenly. He gripped her shoulders tight, telling himself that he should refuse as she was only using him, once again a replacement for the unattainable Guild Master but this was Vex, beautiful, cold, amber eyed Vex! Nocturnal knew he would do anything to be in Vex's bed, anything to even taste her soft lips or stroke her creamy skin, she was tough, bold and lovely, the owner of many men's desires but the receiver of only a few.

She broke the kiss too soon, causing the male thief to swallow down a groan of protest. "Upstairs," she commanded, relishing how she could order him in front of all these other women, "now." She turned from him before he could kiss her again, walking purposely to the stairs.

Cynric watched her go with a wretched look, this was unfair for her to torment him so, she knew how he felt, she had to know, by Oblivion Brynjolf and Sapphire had figured it out. He could feel the stone cold, dark haired Nord's scornful gaze upon him. Yes, Sapphire knew and she knew what he would do now, how he would give in despite the pain it caused him, and follow after the Imperial because even just a moment with her was still something.

She could hear him being sick, throwing up the parts of his brother, now so much meat and vomit. It turned her stomach and had her vomiting too down her broken body. They didn't like that, didn't like the smell, the sight or the sound. "Rejecting food," the voice came from somewhere unseen, "how ungrateful. Well we must punish that."

She screamed, pleaded and begged when they came at her. There were those fingers, long, thin and painful, they jabbed at her, poked and prodded and then wounded as they wielded the lash, leather, it stung swiftly and drew out blood almost immediately.

Kester was silent, he was past caring, the pain meant nothing to him but to her, even after so many years it was still so fresh. "No," she sobbed, "please, no."

He could hear the screams coming through the wooden walls, it made him pause at the door, hesitating for a moment. He had been walking to his room, frustrated, tired and fed up with the drunken revelry downstairs but then he had caught a sound in the air, at first sobs now screams. They were muffled by the wood, almost inaudible until one drew close to the door that contained them. He looked at the lock briefly for a moment, wondering if it would be wise to disturb her. She might only scream louder thinking him an intruder and draw others to them or worse, he might actually have to deal with her issues and he was certain he was too angry and unsettled for that.

When he heard the fear that filled her second scream he snapped a lockpick out from his sleeve and made swift work of the lock, a feeble defence at best. He had been stupid to allow her a room to herself, it was far too risky but then he had been so mad, telling himself that he shouldn't bother if she was only going to increase the risk to herself with exposure. Besides, Vex was probably right and she would not lead him to any treasure and would only prove herself valuable to the Thalmor, and as much as a bastard as he could be he would never sell her to them.

She was tossing wildly beneath the thin blanket, stripped to a silk petticoat and cotton vest top she should have been frozen but was instead soaked with sweat. The room felt cold; there was no fire to heat it, nor candles, all of them now burnt out, and no coal pan in her bed to offer warmth either. He knew immediately that a fever was upon her, unsurprising given how long she had stayed out in the icy rain with just a flimsy dress upon her.

"I'm sorry!" she shrieked. "I'm sorry! Don't hurt me! No...no more, no more, nnn no!" She started screaming again and then there was a wail.

She was so frightened he could not let it continue, besides, the noise of her would surely only draw more attention and that he definitely did not need. He hurried to her, grabbing her tightly by the shoulders and giving her a shake. "Wake up!" he snapped. "Wake up!"

For a moment she did not notice him but then after another shake the screams softened and then when he shouted again her eyes finally opened. They were blurred and bloodshot; her brow was beaded with sweat and her skin verging on grey, though it was hard to tell with only the light coming through the thin curtains on the window to aid his sight. Her head was pounding; it was painful enough for her to let out a groan of ache as she struggled to come to her senses. "Mercer?" she croaked in surprise.

"Yes," he retorted sharply. "You're making a lot of bloody noise," he scorned, "another nightmare."

She winced as the blind red eyes loomed out at her and then suddenly she was groaning again, twisting in his grasp and swatting at air weakly with both hands.

"Stop that," he growled at her, "you've a fever, your own fault for staying out in that rain. What possessed you?"

"I..." She swallowed down a mouthful of bile and pushed the thief back with one hand. Pushing herself up against the wall for support she swept some of her damp hair back from her brow and tried to meet his stare in the dark. Everything was dizzy, her vision swayed and was plagued with grey spots but she tried hard to ignore them and focus on her surroundings. "I couldn't face anymore people," she confessed, "I just needed to be outside and alone, even if it was raining."

"Why?" he demanded.

Her face scrunched up in a pain for a moment and when she relaxed again there were tears glittering in her eyes. "Everyone connected to me has suffered," she said softly, "that man with us, that poor madman is Kester," she explained. "Kester Navingo, one of the assassins my brother hired to kill me." She swallowed hard again but an image of Quintus screaming as they stabbed at him filled her and she found herself doubling over the left side of the bed and retching.

Mercer sighed in frustration as he sat on the edge of the bed and waited for her to continue.

She sat upright once more, her stomach now churning more than ever and her skull burning as if it was on fire. "Hadvar lost everything for me, I don't even know how much, my ma and his pa too, they spent their lives in fear while I was there, and then Quintus...he died but it wasn't quick, no," she trembled as she heard his screams, "no, no, no."

"Alright," Mercer interrupted her rambling in a blunt tone.

"And now Kester...he was with Sheogorath, the mad god, I don't know for how long...he's insane, and it's my fault. Now there's all of you, I can't do this, I can't see you all hurt or killed and for what?" She jerked her hands out at the thief and looked down at herself. "What am I? Who? What will you get for me? Only pain and death-"

"You don't know that," Mercer cut her off dismissively, "you don't remember anything to say for sure what you're worth and what you're not. Besides, that idiot mage has survived knowing you twice now and it's up to me to decide what I will and won't do. Do you think I'm stupid, is that it?" he queried angrily.

"No." Amaris shook her head at him with a look of surprise, reaching up with one hand to clutch her thumping skull.

"That's right," he snapped, "because I'm not. You were the prisoner of Falmer and Thalmor alike and they are looking for you, I understand all that but what I need to know, and what I will know is why. Now, as I said, you've got a fever and it's making you asinine and quite frankly annoying. We're all adults and capable of our own decisions."

"What about your guild?" she queried quietly.

"So Vex put this notion of abandoning us in your head then," he retorted harshly, "or played on it."

"You said you would accompany me to Solitude," Amaris commented, choosing to ignore his accusation, "and you have done that. What wealth my family could offer you? You took from my mother's home; there is nothing else I can give you."

"No," he argued immediately with a glower as he leaned into her, "you can give me the truth, all of it, as was our agreement."

"Mercer what if it's a dead end?" she demanded. "And only the Thalmor have interest in me? Then-"

"Then what?" he queried sharply. "All I've lost on you is time, and not even that considering the heists we have pulled and can continue to pull on our travels. You go alone to Clavicus Vile and you risk imprisonment or death, you cannot match the Thalmor by yourself and you know it."

Amaris shook her head helplessly. "I won't see you made mad or worse," she croaked, "it's not fair to put so many lives in danger for mine and all in the hopes of a gain you might never see."

"Let me worry about that, and don't let Vex manipulate you, you're smarter than that."

"It's not just Vex," she snapped at him in a sudden burst of anger as glowered through the darkness at him, "they are my own thoughts! I see Kester, he's just a shadow of what he was, and then Quintus is there screaming in my mind! They both are and I'm so, so afraid that there will be more screams to add to my nightmares before it's done.

I know you're intelligent, strong, swift and the best at what you do, but what if it's not enough? By all the Aedra please Mercer, I know I'm just a lump of treasure to you but that's not what you are to me and I cannot hear your screams too I can't." She clutched her skull tightly with both hands, bowed her head and cried silently.

A flinch escaped her when the back of his hand pressed against his brow. "You're burning up," he said gruffly as he withdrew it, "wait here and I'll get water." He stood up to go to the door and for a moment the blind red eyes were back, lurking in every corner of the room.

There was a tall form to the right, a black cloaked being with a whip in one hand, and to the left a misshapen hissing thing was just waiting for the right opportunity. "Don't!" she shouted out suddenly, stretching across her bed in a violent motion. When he looked back at her in cold puzzlement she stared up at him helplessly and begged, "please, I...I'm scared." It made her feel weak to admit it, especially to him, he was so scornful of her fears and the last person to be consoling over them but he was all she had right now.

He considered scolding her as he so often did, it would not take long for him to fetch her water and there was nothing in the room and no immediate danger nearby yet her eyes were so wide, and she was shaking even as she sweated. He reasoned with himself that she was not in her right state of mind and could not be blamed entirely for her hysteria. "Alright," he grumbled, "but you would be better with water."

She shook her head, looking about herself nervously as she hugged herself tight with both arms and leaned back against the wall.

"At least settle yourself better," he scorned.

She searched for his gaze but could not see it past the grey spots and glows of red. "They're everywhere," she said hoarsely, "just waiting, waiting for me to rest, they always did and then..." She swallowed down another sob. "Then they would grab me, suffocate me, stab me, burn me, always something, they wait, they're good at waiting, it goes on and on, they never tire but I do."

He sighed and stepped back to her, sitting on the bed once more. "What are you afraid of?" he demanded callously. "That they will come out of nowhere and snatch at you when you sleep?"

She nodded stiffly. "That's what they do."

"They're not here," he tried to reason with her but she only shook her head in protest.

"They wait," she repeated with fresh conviction. She released herself to grab her head with another agonised groan.

"You need to try and sleep," Mercer ordered her.

"No," she protested again, "no they'll grab me, their fingers are so cold, I remember that, clammy and cold and always there, always plucking at my hair, running down my skin," she shuddered, "just waiting..."

"I won't let them," he said sternly.

She shook her head once more as the tears trickled pathetically down her cheeks.

Mercer moved himself to sit beside her, sandwiching her between himself and the wall. "They can't get to you," he repeated.

She dared to lean into him and this time he flinched as her head rested on his right arm and she clutched at his dark shirt desperately with one hand. "Don't leave," she pleaded.

He sighed and lifted his arm, welcoming her head onto his chest and placing his arm protectively over her. "There," he grumbled with a scowl, "they can't get to you now."