Arnbjorn had scrounged some hardy Nord mead from Falkreath, and Gabrielle presented a table full of snacks she promised weren't poisonous: toasted, fried, battered, breaded, all kinds of everything so long as you didn't ask what critter had been cooked. Veezara provided Argonian Ale he claimed was difficult to find even in Black Marsh, and Festus Krex magicked up an undead band. Even Liz, the spider, ventured out of her pit to witness the fuss.
Astrid and her husband showed their well-hidden affection for each other by dancing to the band. While the rest threw well-intentioned teasing their way, Athene pulled Nazir aside.
"Any word from Babette?" she said.
"Yes, as it happens. She sent me a letter."
Athene frowned. "To the sanctuary?"
"Of course not. We have a courier who leaves correspondence to Dead Man's Drink, in town. She sent the letter there."
"Where is it? I'd like to read it."
His nostrils flared. "It was addressed to me. All you need to know is that she's alive and well. That's all she asked me to tell you, anyway."
She wondered if his attitude was due to whatever Babette had told him about Morthal and Agni, or if it was something else.
"I have a funny idea," she said. "Is there something going on between you and Babette?"
She didn't think his nostrils could get any wider, but there, they did.
"Mind your own business."
"Not very original, Nazir."
"Unless you want me to make comments about the company you've been keeping in Whiterun–"
"Ah, never mind," she said quickly.
Festus had cut in and was dancing with Astrid.
Nazir shook his head. "You know, for all the trouble it caused, this contract has done us a lot of good."
"You mean the necklace?" They'd discovered the amulet Motierre had given them belonged to a member of the Emperor's Elder Council, and was worth a small fortune.
"No, not the money, though that's sure to help out. I mean look at this place. More lively than ever. And for a group of assassins, that's saying something. It feels…"
They watched Veezara swing Gabriella around in what he claimed was a traditional Argonian dance. The alchemist was eyeing his roving tail with some concern.
"Like a family," Nazir finished.
"It didn't before?"
"Before it felt like we were hiding from something. We were so aware of being the last sanctuary in Tamriel. Now that doesn't feel so precarious."
Athene was silent. She'd been to Whiterun again since killing The Gourmet, not to see her "werewolf crush," but to visit Oleeva the Feeble. The woman had given her a fortune she would never forget.
Blood, she'd said. So much blood.
Veezara had finished torturing Gabriella and came over to shove a bottle of mead into Athene's hand.
"For tonight," he said, "Death keeps its own council."
She clinked her bottle against his own. "For tonight," she agreed.
Nazir thought the family was safe. Athene wondered if they ever could be. But she grinned large and agreed to a dance with Veezara, and kept her worries to herself because for one night they should be allowed to celebrate, even if they were celebrating an uncertain future.