Turdas, 11 Evening Star, 208 4E 7:00 PM
It was a quiet day in the Dawnstar Sanctuary. Most of the family was out for a change, taking advantage of the nice weather while it lasted and earning gold with contracts instead of trying to figure out how to live in close proximity to their siblings in Sanctuary without violating a Tenet.
Especially the one about killing each other.
Currently Hecate and Aventus were playing a word game with tiles while Siltal quietly read a book nearby. Cicero was somewhere in the catacombs, no doubt tending to the Night Mother as usual.
"Your turn," Hecate said lazily as she tallied her score from her turn.
"You always just slam them down immediately," Aventus grumbled as he looked at his options again. "You never have to think about your turn."
"I do think about it," the Listener teased, "while you're taking forever with your move. I always plan at least two different possibilities so no matter what you play, I still have a choice."
"Don't let her fast plays intimidate you, Brother," Siltal said softly, not looking up from her book.
"She tried the same maneuver with Babette and me and was disappointed when it didn't work since we're so much older. We realize that good results are not always a product of speed."
"I admit there's some intimidation factor," Hecate said playfully as she rested her chin on her steepled hands, "but I also expected our boy here to be better with words after all that time and money spent for his learning."
"We learned how to put real words together to move people's emotions," Aventus muttered, "not these made up words of yours."
"They're all here in the book," Hecate countered, waving at the dictionary that could be used for challenges. "It's not my fault you didn't memorize all the short ones."
"This is boring," Aventus grumbled. "I forfeit. You're going to win anyway. Why are we even still stuck here anyway? We could go up to Solitude for a few days. They're already celebrating the New Life festival despite it being two and a half weeks away."
Hecate frowned as she started to put the game away. Aventus seemed a lot less willing to suffer through these games since he had come home. "I don't want to risk the weather turning bad and getting stuck there."
"So what if it does?" Aventus asked. "You've missed your commune with the Night Mother before. I'd be surprised if there is even a petition before the beginning of the year anyway."
It was true. People were much less likely to appeal to the Black Sacrament during the worst parts of the winter.
"Maybe I feel like being extra attentive to the Night Mother right now," Hecate hedged. She did owe her Matron for granting her petition even if there were no results yet.
"Or maybe you're just trying to get out of going to Jordis' wedding," Aventus pushed. It had been announced months ago that Jordis Shield-Maiden would be bound to Frothar Balgruufsson in a pledge to Mara during the New Life Festival. "You really should go, you know. As her thane, it would mean a lot to her."
"I'm not anyone's thane," Hecate snapped.
"So this is really about Lydia being there, huh?" Aventus grinned smugly, having made his point. It had also been announced after her capture that the fate of Lydia Stormblade would be determined at the beginning of the year too.
Before the Listener could continue, the Black Door slammed open and closed. The three assassins went on alert at the sound, sensing something was wrong. No one was expected back yet and no one was ever that loud. Silence was second nature to most of the Brotherhood, Cicero withstanding, and even the jester didn't use the entryway that loudly.
A shadowy silhouette bobbed into view first before revealing the tired and sweaty form of Elbent, their Breton brother who had left to join Wayrest Sanctuary about three years ago. He had been chosen by Garnag because of his mastery in social diplomacy and charisma. The man had a silver tongue that had all but the most untrusting willing to give him secrets within minutes.
"What's wrong?" Aventus asked standing and starting towards the stairs. "Was the Sanctuary attacked? Is it the Thalmor?"
"Calm down, Aventus," Hecate said calmly. She had been waiting for this message since First Seed. She had honestly thought it would have come in Hearthfire and was surprised it took so long. "It's time, isn't it, Elbent?"
"Yes," the man said simply. He looked to his right to where the Night Mother's shrine used to reside. "By Sithis, it feels wrong for her to not be there, watching over all of us."
"She watches us," Hecate assured the man as he descended the flight of stairs to the common area. She approached him and gave him a welcoming hug. "It's just from a place where she can be safe from the corruption of the living."
"What's going on?" Aventus asked, confused and frustrated. "If Elbent isn't here to alert us to an attack on Wayrest, then why is he here?"
"To let us know that it is time," Hecate said softly.
"Time for what?"
"Garnag is dying," Elbent said. "He has requested that the Listener come to visit one last time before he passes into the Void."
Aventus fell to his knees, his face devoid of emotion. "Garnag is dying?" he repeated. Aventus knew he was old and that the Orsimer didn't have life spans as long as the other races. But Nazir had only been relocated to Wayrest only eight months ago to tutor under Garnag's supervision as a replacement Speaker. He dropped his head into his hand, raking his hair into wild patterns. "I knew that Garnag would die someday, but I had thought that it would be years down the road. Not now."
Hecate placed a comforting hand on Aventus' shoulder and squeezed it sympathetically. "I'll let Cicero know," she said before turning to enter the catacombs.
Turdas, 11 Evening Star, 208 4E 7:15 PM
Cicero was singing happily as he cleaned the floor in front of Mother's coffin. It was less necessary now that she was safely tucked away in the catacombs and away from filthy, prying eyes, but Cicero never took a chance when it came to Mother's welfare.
Unless he was called away from Sanctuary to help the Listener with a contract, usually from Solitude, the Keeper spent at least an hour a day going over his Matron's resting place. Candles were replaced, wilted flowers were removed, and careful inspection was made for any creepy crawlies that dared to invade the coffin.
Then there was the weekly oiling that Cicero observed every Sundas. It was the most essential of all of Cicero's duties as the sacred oils and chants were necessary to keep the preserved body sanctified. It created the mystical conduit that allowed the Night Mother to channel her soul to the physical plane and to speak with the blessed Listener. It was a ceremony that Cicero never missed, outside of the most dire of circumstances. Usually caused by the Listener.
The jester spun in a pirouette as he held his broom. Life was good. Cicero had Mother. Cicero had his Listener, who had gifted him with a handmade ring with a blood red ruby and her true name engraved on it. Cicero had family. Cicero had Sanctuary. What more could Cicero want?
The silence-maddening, terrible silence-was held at bay with laughter and fellowship. Now longer was Cicero forced to laugh and sing to fill the Void around him. Instead, the jester chose to do those things because they pleased him.
"I see that you've finally tired of me and that I've been replaced," a female voice said from the shadows. Cicero stopped his dancing to look over to the Listener who was leaning against the entrance frame to the Night Mother's shrine. She was smiling, but there was a sadness to her eyes today. "I thought surely you would have picked someone a bit prettier."
The Keeper took a moment to place the broom back in its proper place before advancing to the Listener. Normally, he would have tossed it to the side to banter with her, but they were before Mother and proper decorum must be maintained before the Matron at all times.
"Cicero would never forsake his lovely, luminous Listener!" Cicero declared as he put his arm through Hecate's and led her out of the inner sanctum. Once they were out of sight of Mother's watchful eyes, Cicero planted a passionate kiss on sweet Hecate's lips. "Not after working so hard for her to admit her feelings for him."
Hecate chuckled softly as she pressed her head against Cicero's shoulder. The Keeper wrapped his arms around her, wondering what had her so quiet today. The Listener wasn't usually very loud, unless she was mad about something and taking it out on poor Cicero, but she only acted this way when something was bothering her.
"Is it Aventus?" Cicero asked quietly.
Things had been awkward between the Listener and the boy ever since he had kissed her. They had good days when both could pretend nothing had happened, but Hecate often made an invisible barrier between them now. She would stand with someone between them or move to the other side of a table, anything to keep the two of them apart. The idea of a physical relationship between them appalled her. Aventus would always be the ten-year-old boy she had found alone and forgotten in an abandoned house with only the remains of his mother for companionship.
In the meantime, seven years later, Aventus had become a full grown man with a man's desires. The young Imperial was tall for his race, broad-shouldered, and handsome enough to turn every eye except the one he wanted. Despite being rejected, Cicero knew the boy still harbored some hope that one day the Listener would tire of the jester and turn to the bard for comfort instead.
If Cicero had any say in the matter, that would only happen over his cold, dead body.
"No, everything is fine with Aventus," Hecate chuckled, her voice muffled from her face being pressed against Cicero's chest. She paused, not sure how to say what she needed to say. "I have to go away for a while."
"Diana," Cicero growled, narrowing his eyes. Cicero remembered the last time she had said that. The Listener had retreated to High Hrothgar for three months, THREE MONTHS, before Cicero had discovered where she had hid herself and had been forced to go retrieve her. "You're not running away again, are you?"
Hecate looked up, her blue eyes wide and innocent, causing Cicero to immediately relax. She never could make eye contact if she was doing something shady. "No," she whispered, "I have to go to Wayrest Sanctuary."
"Garnag?"
"Yes. Elbent arrived a few minutes ago with the news."
"Cicero will go too."
"You can't," Hecate shook her head. "It's too far away. It's going to take me at least a week to get there, and that is assuming that I have no problems with weather, bandits, or dragons while pushing Shadowmere to her limits. You have to tend to Mother."
"Cicero wants to go!" the Keeper insisted, his voice rising in scale to the point of screaming. Anyone else would have accepted Hecate's point, but Cicero wasn't just anyone. "Cicero has to go!"
"You can't," Hecate repeated, pushing away from Cicero, her face blank. "I told you already."
"Please! Please, please, please!" Cicero fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around the Listener's legs so she couldn't move. He buried his face against her stomach. Tears ran down the Keeper's face as he begged. "Cicero must go! Cicero needs to say goodbye. Cicero never got to say goodbye to anyone else. Not to his family in Bruma. Not to his family in Cheydinhal. Not even his family in Falkreath. Everyone dead, dead, dead and Cicero is left alone."
"You will never be alone again," Hecate promised as she gently petted his hair. "I would take you if I could, but it's just not possible. Even if it was just the two of us on Shadowmere, the trip is too far."
"Odahviing," Cicero whispered. "Deadly Diana Dragonborn could call her dragon friend like before when we were stealing the dragon scale armor lying, loutish Lydia wrongfully claimed."
"I don't like asking dragons for favors," Hecate frowned, ignoring Cicero's jab at her former housecarl. "They only respect each other based on strength and if I call on him it shows weakness."
"Cicero has only ever seen Hecate summon the red dragon once," Cicero whined. "Surely twice in six years isn't too much to ask?"
"Dragons measure time differently," Hecate protested, but Cicero would tell that she was softening. She was pressing one finger against her lips as she thought. "Six years probably doesn't feel very long to him, but maybe if I buttered him up."
"Sweet Hecate is very good at such things," Cicero said slyly. He looked up at the Listener, all smiles now. "Lucky Cicero knows that he simply melts at her careful ministrations."
"Oh, you," Hecate said affectionately as she bonked the jester on the head. "You're so spoiled."
"Only because Cicero has such a sweet, kind, loving Listener," Cicero murmured as he kissed her left hand, focusing on the silver and amethyst ring he had given her.
"We'll head out immediately if you're done with tending the Night Mother," Hecate said with a nod.
"Yay! The four of us going together on a trip!" Cicero jumped to his feet and gave an impromptu dance.
"Four?" Hecate wrinkled her brow in thought. "There's you, me, and Elbent."
"And the boy," Cicero reminded her as he danced in a circle. "Of course Aventus is coming."
"No," Hecate said. "I'm not comfortable with taking Aventus on a dragon ride."
"Why not?" Cicero asked, stopping his capering. "The boy has been on one before."
"That was before," Hecate said blushing. "You know how close all of us had to ride before crushed together. I wouldn't feel comfortable knowing how he feels."
"Aventus felt that way before," Cicero reprimanded her, waggling his finger. "Nothing is different now except Hecate knows and won't be wiggling against the boy as much. It's probably a mercy to him."
"Cicero," Hecate warned, glowering.
"Let the boy go," Cicero insisted. "He needs to say goodbye too. Garnag helped him with his first kill. Garnag was the boy's friend too. Surely, Hecate understands?"
Hecate sighed as she held her hand to her forehead, affecting a headache. "Fine, fine. But only if the two if you can manage to not act like two cats fighting over territory the whole time."
"Cicero will be on his best behavior!" the jester crowed as he did a backflip.
"I guess that will have to do," Hecate muttered. This trip is just looking more and more unpleasant as time passed. At least she could arrange it so that Elbent sat behind her, since undoubtedly Cicero will want the front. That will at least create a nice obstruction between her and their young protégé.
Turdas, 11 Evening Star, 208 4E 7:30 PM
"Listener, if it's all the same to you, I would rather stay here," Elbent said. He was sprawled at the dinner table with a simple meal set in front of him and a mug of ale in one hand. "I just spent an entire week getting here, riding as if Lord Molag Bal was personally trying to set my ass on fire, and I'm exhausted. I'm not quite ready to head back immediately. My tail bone feels like it's been molded to the shape of my saddle."
"We're not going to be riding by traditional horseback," Hecate said.
"A wagon will be awfully slow," Elbent said, raising an eyebrow.
"We're not going by wagon either," Hecate hedged.
"Not a wagon! A dragon!" Cicero interjected. "We will be riding a dragon! High in the sky so that people look like tiny, helpless ants. The world flows like a river under us while we soar, soar, soar!"
"Oh, ho, ho," Elbent chuckled nervously. "If that's the case, I know I'll pass, if you don't mind, Listener. This Breton was bred to keep both feet on the ground. I don't care much for sailing, never mind flying. Both seem to have the same unfortunate side effect: if something goes wrong, you have no place to go but down."
"Don't you want to say your goodbyes?" Hecate asked.
"I said them before I headed out," Elbent said casually. "None of us saw any point in taking a risk that he would be gone before I got back. By the Eight, he might already have passed to the Void."
"Don't say that!" Cicero screamed, suddenly in the Breton's face. The jester's face was livid and his eyes wide with frantic. "Garnag wouldn't die before Cicero could arrive. Garnag wouldn't!"
It was impressive that the Breton didn't flinch during the Keeper's tirade. Hecate grabbed a handful of Cicero's hair and jerked him back.
"If you cannot behave in Sanctuary, then I won't take you," she threatened. Cicero turned to glare at her, but both of them knew it was an empty threat. Everyone knew that the Listener had a weak spot for the Keeper, which allowed the jester to get away with far too much at times. Still, it was enough to remind the redhead that they hadn't left yet and arrangements could still be changed.
"Well, he wouldn't," Cicero muttered, backing down but still getting in the last word. He moved so that he was slightly crouching behind the Listener, much like a berated child finding protection from his mother. "Garnag wouldn't."
"It's okay, Cicero," Hecate said comfortingly. Her hand snaked back up to the Keeper's hair, but this time she softly stroked it. "We'll be there shortly and find out first hand. Garnag is tough. I'm sure that he's still waiting for us."
Elbent didn't think Hecate noticed, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aventus snort in disdain as Cicero reveled in the Listener's attention. He hadn't been there for Aventus' failed attempt for the Listener's affection, but he had heard quite an earful of it when the group had arrived at Markarth for their reunion with their Wayrest siblings.
It had all sounded wonderfully scandalous and Elbent was sad to hear that he had missed it. Apparently, that particular story wasn't closed, though.
"Actually, if you don't mind," Elbent said, sitting up. "I would like to put in a request to transfer back to Dawnstar. You know I only left originally because Garnag needed a face man. I'm good with people and it was important to put the right whispers in the right ears. Now that Wayrest is firmly established and Nazir is there to lead, they don't have to have me anymore."
"You'd really give up those lovely temperate seasons to come back here?" Hecate asked, incredulously. "You would rather have cold, wintry Skyrim instead?"
"Hey, this was where I found my family again," Elbent shrugged. "I miss the place."
"You talked to Nazir about this?"
"Of course," Elbent snorted. He pulled out a scroll and handed it to the Listener. "He said final call was up to you."
"All of our family is welcome here," Hecate said. She hesitated as she glanced at Cicero. "Well, most of them anyway."
The official reason Wayrest had been reopened was that the Brotherhood had grown too big to accommodate all of the assassins comfortably any more. Unofficially, it was because of a feud between Cicero and Eiruki, an odd Nord woman who had gotten it into her fool head to torment the Keeper by constantly touching the Night Mother's coffin or leaving wild flowers before the shrine when Cicero wasn't around. Finally, one day, the Keeper had caught her with her "blasphemies" and almost killed the girl in a rage.
Elbent didn't know why Hecate had chosen Garnag to lead the Wayrest Sanctuary as Speaker. Maybe because of the accusations that all of the important positions were going to only humans, but the Listener had never struck him as someone who did something to appease others. He personally had thought it was weird given the close relationship between the one-eyed Orc and the Keeper.
Or maybe that was a reason all of its own to separate the two.
Garnag had never seemed resentful of the promotion if that had been the case. He wasn't that strong of personality, but he was well liked and he knew the Old Ways as second nature. More importantly, he had chosen his advisors well, and the Sanctuary had thrived. Every week, they received plenty of Black Sacraments via hawk, and were never without work to choose from.
Nazir could have easily sent a written missive by bird, but the Redguard had felt that it was better to take the longer route. This was a sensitive personal message, not a request for supplies or an update about the Sanctuary's business. You didn't tell loved ones that a family member was dying by note. You just didn't.
"Don't you need to get your personal effects?" Hecate pushed. "Clothes, trophies, or anything else that matters to you?"
"I have my shrouded armor in my bag, and I don't tend to collect trophies," Elbent said. "If I want more clothes, I can buy them here. I seem to recall you highly recommending a clothier in Solitude."
"You intentionally made this a one-way trip, didn't you?" Hecate sounded miffed as she placed her hands on her hips. "You knew I would approve of your transfer and made sure you didn't have to go back."
"Listener," Elbent said, his voice full of sincerity, "why would I doubt your generosity when you're such a kind and reasonable woman?"
"Ooooh, he got you good!" Cicero giggled.
"It's not like you need me to go back with you," Elbent reminded her. "You know the pass phrase and where to find the Black Door."
It was the Listener's responsibility to periodically visit all of the Sanctuaries. Not only did it give her a chance for a firsthand account of the organization of the place, but it allowed her a chance to meet new initiates, handle disputes that needed an outside, neutral party, and remind everyone of the Night Mother's presence. A repeat of Falkreath and the abandonment of the Tenets was not going to happen if Hecate could help it.
"It's true," Hecate said, frowning.
Elbent thought that was odd, until he noticed that her gaze flickered, just for a moment, to Aventus and away. He thought about it and smiled. Returning here had been a good idea. Although there was always drama when multiple people lived together, Wayrest Sanctuary was boring compared to Dawnstar Sanctuary.
"Fine," Hecate conceded. "Aventus, you're invited to come as well, unless you don't want to go."
"I want to go!" Aventus practically shouted. He clenched his fists and leaned forward excitedly. "I can leave at any time."
"Then let's head out," Hecate waved.
As the trio filed out, Cicero turned towards Elbent and said in a sing-song voice, "You're missing oooout."
"No doubt," Elbent snorted. He rubbed his sore posterior, feeling that he had made the right choice. The Breton turned to the Altmer Speaker who had been quietly observing everything. "So, Siltal, love, help me catch up on everything that has been going on lately."
Turdas, 11 Evening Star, 208 4E 8:00 PM
"ODAHVIING!"
The Shout echoed in the open field the three assassins had gathered in; wild rabbits broke from the tall grass to run from the noise. They were about a ten minute walk away from Sanctuary on the off-chance the dragon's arrival might catch a nosy hunter's attention. It wouldn't do to accidentally lead do-gooders to the Black Door.
The three of them stood awkwardly as they waited for the red dragon to answer Hecate's call. The walk had been fast paced enough that silence hadn't been an issue, but now that they were still, it was hanging in the air. Hecate was standing so that she wasn't facing either man, while the two men warily eyed each other.
"Sing us a song, bard," Cicero demanded suddenly as he danced around Aventus. "Sing a song so the Keeper and Listener may caper."
"I didn't bring my mandolin," Aventus said coldly. "I didn't think it would be wise to try to keep it from breaking while riding a dragon."
"Cicero has never been known for his wisdom," the Fool lamented, "but surely the boy would gift us with the sound of his voice. Bards aren't required to accompany song with music."
"Stop calling me 'the boy,'" Aventus growled. "I'm taller than you, you know. At least that should count for something."
"Yet, still so young," Cicero teased as he pinched Aventus' cheeks. "Cicero just hopes that Aventus doesn't help some poor girl catch pregnant and make Cicero a grandfather before his time."
"Shut up!" Aventus snapped as he swatted Cicero's hands away.
"He's here!" Hecate said loudly, drawing the Imperials' attention away from each other.
The red dragon hovered briefly as the three assassins scattered to make enough space for him to land. His wings made grass and dust fly everywhere as he landed heavily on the ground.
"Drem Yol Lok, Dovahkiin," the beast rumbled pleasantly.
"Drem Yol Lok, zu'ui fahdon," Hecate said affectionately as she stepped forward to caress the dragon's snout. "Him haas los pruzah?"
"Aam," Odahviing responded, "Zu'ui haas los pruzah. Him thu'um los zol mul."
Hecate giggled, hiding her face behind her hand and leaned against the dragon before responding in draconic.
"By Sithis," Aventus grumbled, "is she flirting with the dragon?"
"Sweet Hecate did say she would need to butter up the beast," Cicero said with a toothy grin. Aventus could tell that the jester wasn't pleased with this turn of events either.
"I wish I knew what they were saying," Aventus muttered darkly. He didn't like that the Listener was flirting with the dragon, and it was made worse by not know exactly what they were saying.
Thankfully, the Dragonborn and dragon didn't converse for too long. Hecate turned to the two men and waved for them to come over. "Odahviing says that he'll gladly take us. It always pleases him to make us mortals jealous of the dragons."
"Did the joor miss the thrill of flying after Odahviing showed them what they were lacking?" the dragon boasted.
"I know I did," Hecate said, obviously still flirting with the dragon.
"Cicero is up front!" the jester declared as he ran past the Listener to scramble onto the dragon. The little man bounced happily on the dragon's neck, unmindful of the sharp, scaly ridges.
"Why am I not surprised?" the Listener grumbled. She looked over her shoulder at Aventus who merely shrugged. Rather than hesitate and make a scene, she climbed onto the dragon behind Cicero.
Aventus followed, trying to not remember the last time they had ridden like this. Not that the order could have been changed around much. He didn't think Cicero would want to be squished next to him any more than he wanted to be crammed against the Keeper.
"Hold on tight!" Odahviing commanded, missing the collective grumble from his three passengers before he launched into the air.
Turdas, 11 Evening Star, 208 4E 11:00 PM
"What is life's final gift?" the Black Door whispered.
"Death," Hecate answered solemnly.
"Welcome home, Listener, Keeper, and brother," the door whispered as it swung open.
It had taken only about three hours to travel from Dawnstar to Wayrest. They had traveled over half of Skyrim, past Hammerfell, and to the eastern shore of High Rock to the trade road outside of the coastal town of Wayrest.
The layout of this Sanctuary was similar to Cheydinhal. There was a long corridor after the entrance that led into a common room. Off to one side was a training room, another side held the initiates sleeping area, and then a third corridor lead to the senior assassin's private rooms.
Nazir was talking to an initiate when the three Dawnstar siblings entered. The aging Redguard looked up in surprise at their arrival.
"By Sithis, you got here quickly. Don't tell me Elbent killed the horses I gave him." Nazir hated the thought of wasting coin and nothing was quite as wasteful as losing horses.
"No, we rode a dragon!" Cicero laughed as he hurled himself at Nazir. Nazir grimaced as the jester hugged him tightly. "Oh, Cicero has missed the Speaker's cooking. It is just not as delicious without Nazir's grumbling and preening."
"Speaker?" the initiate said, obviously confused.
"You haven't met Cicero," Nazir said, trying to not sigh and failing pretty miserably. "He's the Keeper."
"He is?" The initiate sounded doubtful, as if this was some sort of strange prank from this Speaker. Not that Nazir's humor tended to run towards the bizarre.
"Oh, yes!" Cicero chirped as he turned to the initiate and threw himself into the young man's arms. "Cicero Keeps the Night Mother. He tends to her coffin. Oils her, preserves hers… makes her happy."
"Um," the initiate stammered.
"You're dismissed," Nazir said, feeling sorry for the young one. "Let the others know I'll be in my office talking to the Listener and her companions."
"Yes, sir!" the initiate said gratefully before taking off.
Cicero's smile faded as soon as the initiate was out of sight. "Is Garnag okay?" the Keeper asked, his expression worried.
"As well as a dying man can be, I suppose," Nazir said calmly. He'd had to deal with Cicero for years before being relocated to Wayrest; it would take a lot before he would be fazed by the madman's eccentric behavior. The Redguard escorted them to his office where he offered them seats before settling behind his desk. "He's comfortable in his bed. Old man can barely see out of the one good eye, but he knows who he is and where he is, which is more than I can say about some I've seen going through the process."
Aventus shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, starkly reminded of his period of catatonia right before he had left for the Bard's college. He had been one of the living dead for almost a week before finally recovering. He had never publicly spoken about what had caused his emotional crisis, and as with most things in the Brotherhood, no one had pressed him on it.
"If Garnag is up to it, I think we should see him now," Hecate said. "Individually so we don't strain him too much. Aventus will be first, then me, then Cicero."
"Why that order?" Aventus asked.
"Because I said so," Hecate said vaguely.
"Is that okay with you, Cicero?" Aventus asked. He didn't want the Keeper to throw a fit about the matter. He was surprised to see that the Keeper had pushed his chair to be closer to the Listener and that he was holding her hand.
"Yes, yes, that is fine," Cicero said vaguely, his gaze far off. Aventus suspected that Cicero wasn't completely in the now. It happened on occasion that the Keeper would get lost in his memories.
"It was good seeing you, Nazir," Aventus said as he stood. "I'd like to talk with you some afterwards."
"Any time, Aventus," Nazir smiled. "Garnag's room is down the hall, last one on the left."
The next several minutes passed as Nazir and Hecate discussed business while Cicero quietly sat as close to the Listener as possible. Nazir actually felt more nervous with Cicero being so quiet than when the Fool was being his usual loud self, but at least Hecate was nearby to curb any outbursts.
When Aventus returned, Hecate gave Cicero a small kiss on the cheek and patted his shoulder as she stood. "I'll be back soon," she promised.
"Cicero wants to wait outside," the Keeper insisted.
"As you wish," the Listener said gently as she took Cicero's hand and the two of them exited Nazir's office.
When Hecate entered Garnag's room, she was surprised to see how dark it was. There was a lone candle by the bed, but it did little to push away the darkness.
"Don't they give you enough light?" she asked as she stumbled towards the bed.
"I can barely see anyway," Garnag chuckled. "No sense in wasting, right? Besides, I've come to find the lack of light comforting. It's like a day fading into night. The Void embracing me as I slide slowly into it."
"So poetic," Hecate teased. "Maybe I should have sent you with Aventus to the Bards College."
"I've had a long enough life without having added that," Garnag countered. He squeezed Hecate's fingers when she picked up his hand with hers. "Thank you for coming. Aventus told me how you arrived so quickly. Clever and convenient."
"Hmph," Hecate snorted. "That was Cicero's idea."
"Why am I not surprised?"
"I say that a lot when talking about the Fool of Hearts," Hecate said with a small smile. "He's here, did Aventus tell you that?"
"Yes," Garnag admitted, "I never thought he would be able to make it. I cannot thank you enough, Listener."
"I know the two of you shared a bond," Hecate said, stroking the old orc's hand, "being the last
two of Cheydinhal."
"I think I was a little in love with him," Garnag confessed.
"That's easy to do with Cicero," Hecate snorted. "It's liking him that is hard. I envied that you knew him before."
"You shouldn't," Garnag said softly. "It was like seeing another man wearing the skin of someone you used to know."
"Do you regret coming here?" Hecate asked.
"No," Garnag sighed, "I think I was tearing him apart. He couldn't handle being whatever he had become to survive and reconcile it with who he used to be. I missed him, but it was better that I left. Besides, it was for the growth of the Brotherhood, the return of the Black Hand's grasp across Tamriel. How could I deny that?"
"You're a good brother, Garnag," Hecate said as she kissed his forehead. "It was an honor knowing you."
"It was an honor serving under you, Listener Hecate," the old orc responded.
After the Listener left, long minutes passed in silence.
"You're going to have to come over here, Cicero," Garnag said finally, when he realized that the Keeper wasn't going to move. "I'm not going anywhere."
"You called me by my name," the Imperial said with wonder in his voice. He appeared in Garnag's vision, wringing his gloved hands in worry. "What happened to 'Chickpea'?"
I wonder that sometimes, Garnag thought. Instead he answered, "I think we're past silly nicknames now."
"It's okay for Cicero to be the Fool of Hearts?" the Keeper asked sadly.
"Yes."
"Good, good." Cicero paused as he sat on the edge of the bed. His amber eyes were wide and looked so lost that Garnag was afraid that he was going to cry. "You left," Cicero suddenly said accusingly. "Garnag left and poor Cicero was alone. All alone with Mother and the silence. Because Garnag left!"
"I'm sorry," the orc said. He feared Cicero would ask if it was on purpose. If Garnag had decided to run away instead of coming back as he had promised. The orc had never told anyone that he hadn't tried to escape the guards as hard as he should have because he couldn't stand to go back to Cicero and his wide, needing, crazy eyes.
Instead, Cicero asked, "What it because of what I had asked of you? Was it because we killed Vasha for his lies?"
There had been some of that. It had been so incredibly hard to kill the Khajiit Speaker, to go against the Tenets after they had been so thoroughly ingrained into Garnag's soul.
Thankfully, Cicero didn't wait for a reply. He bent close to Garnag's face and whispered, his voice low and deep, unlike his normal speaking voice. "Sweet Garnag. Such a loyal brother. Such a good brother to Cicero."
The Keeper's lips brushed against Garnag's enveloping the old orc into a kiss that took him back to twenty years ago before his imprisonment in the Imperial prison, before Cicero had gone completely mad.
Cicero pulled back the blankets that covered Garnag and slipped in between them to nestle next to the mage. He rested his head on the orc's shoulders, his cap put aside so that his red hair flared out around him like a fiery halo. His body warmth flooded Garnag, a pleasant sensation
after feeling cold all the time.
"If I asked you to stay, would you?" Cicero asked as he continued to kiss the orc, similar to the tactics he had used to convince the orc to kill the Speaker. "What would it take to make you stay?"
"You vile tempter," Garnag laughed. "No wonder Hecate lets you get away with so much." He became somber. "Will she be okay with you doing this?"
"Sweet Hecate would understand," Cicero assured him. "She always understands."
"Still, the time for such things has passed as well," Garnag said with regret.
"I don't want to say goodbye," the Imperial admitted, his face buried against Garnag's neck. "Cicero hates goodbyes. Cicero hates when good things end."
"That's our job," Garnag said gently. "We give endings to those who have drawn the Night Mother's attention."
"Not for Cicero's family. Not for my family," the Keeper moaned.
"It's time for me to go to the Night Mother," Garnag said. "I have a favor to ask. I have said my farewells to all of those I need to. I don't want to spend any more time here counting the seconds until my final breath. Will you help me, brother?"
"Cicero understands," the Keeper said, his eyes dull. "Cicero understands and obeys."
Middas, 12 Evening Star, 208 4E 12:00 AM
Cicero quietly closed the door behind him when he exited Garnag's room. Hecate was waiting in the hall where he had last seen her, still leaning against the wall.
"Garnag is gone," Cicero said, looking down. "He has joined Mother in the Void."
"You didn't have to," Hecate said as she came over and wrapped her arms around Cicero. "I would have if you had needed me to."
"Sweet Hecate," Cicero chuckled as he kissed her ear and returned the hug. "Always so kind, especially to poor Cicero."
"This wasn't against the Tenets?" Hecate asked.
"No, no," Cicero shook his head. "Cicero always obeys the Tenets. It was a gift, freely given."
"The final gift," the Listener said as she took Cicero's hand, echoing the Black Door.
"Ours to give to those who deserve or need it," Cicero replied.
Fingers entwined, the Listener and Keeper walked down the hall to let the others know the news.