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

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Chapter Thirty-Seven: Bad Medicine

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It was after this encounter with the Morag Tong – and I was cautioned that if anyone in the Family asked where I'd been, with the exception of Vicente, that I was to say that he'd needed a courier, and I had been available. I agreed – this was not the sort of mission that I wanted to talk about. Taking out rival factions should be discreet –and with the rumors about Lucien and myself still buzzing around like so many pesky mosquitoes, no one outside the Sanctuary would assume it had been anything work-related.

The fools.

"They don't need to know what kind of crazy stunts you get up to," Lucien had smirked at me, from astride Shadowmere, after I'd returned my horse to the stable outside Cheydinhal.

"The trouble I get into? I keep you in business, boss," I said cheekily.

Lucien smiled then his expression shifted into something I wasn't sure how to read. "It's good that you've finally stopped running."

That wiped the smile off my face. "Running? From what?" I asked, a little warily.

Lucien gave me a benign sort of smile. "Everything," and with that he turned Shadowmere and gave her a gentle kick, sending her towards the Imperial City at a brisk prance. Shadowmere rarely walks – she prances or strolls gracefully. She's the strangest horse I've ever see in my entire life.

I watched him go, scowling in deep thought. I wasn't running from anything! Or everything.

I turned to stomp off, back into the city and then stopped at the gate and felt a prickle of annoyance. Dammit –for the millionth time, he's right.

That man is dangerous. He knows way too much about me, and he won't hesitate to use that to his advantage. Sometimes I could wring his neck…

From what was I running? Well, that had been easy, once I stopped fuming and thought about it.

I'd been running from my family, for one. The Mages' Guild. Anvil itself. My family's reputation. My own pain and fear. Perhaps it was something that had happened on my last trip to Anvil. I realized that ,when I'd refused to duck my head and politely bow out, say I was wrong, in Lucien's office before, when instead I'd held my ground…it was a sign of change. I'd always wondered if I'd ever have true courage, and perhaps this was the glimmering of it.

I felt oddly…free…as I walked back into Cheydinhal, and the first thing I did was to go to the cobbler, to have a pair of boots made. Special boots, just for me.

I decided to dispatch with the heavy boots that came with my shrouded armor, and change to the lighter, more stealthy make, in black doeskin. Of course, they were expensive…but I managed. In fact, they were probably some of the best-spent septims I've earned this year, for once the boots were finished, I was well-pleased with them.

I wouldn't be able to run on a sprained ankle, or a fractured bone in these, as I could have in my old boots, which I wear laced just a hair too tight, but they were far more suited to slipping stealthily about than my original pair – now under my bed. And as I specialize in stealth and accidents, it seemed the better choice.

Besides: you never know when you need thick boots, to kick in someone's door.

I pointed my toes, like a dancer and admired the way these boots made my feet look a little more delicate.

Vanity, thy name is Sarielle.

Sometimes. Oh well – I'm a girl we worry about these things.

--S--

Well, if I thought that M'raaj Dar was going to let things rest after he found out that I was responsible for his episode of running around the Sanctuary with his mouth on fire, I was highly mistaken. However, I was so busy looking for retaliation that I only managed to foist his attempts – inadvertently – onto someone else.

We were having Wrothgarian Chili-Cheese, and Gogron was telling me that I needed to hurry up and finish my hot sauce jungle juice (his words) – because the usual stuff was just too bland.

Now, here's a thing to know, if you already don't. Gogron likes to appear tough –and I think part of that is because of Tel…and he equates being tough with being able to handle things other people have trouble with.

Like…Tel, actually…

Anyway, he poured hot sauce onto his food and I thought nothing of it, until Lucien joined the table, and I saw M'raaj Dar shooting anxious looks at the hot sauce bottle.

Now, I usually add a bit to my chili – I hadn't done so tonight, because Gogron was hogging the bottle, and I realized in the instant M'raaj looked up and we caught each other's eyes that he had messed with it somehow.

And Lucien was cruising headlong for being the target of our little…disagreement.

Oh shit…

"Ah, you don't want that," I reached forward quickly and knocked Lucien's hand gently – I didn't want to implicate M'raaj Dar, simply because I had started it. "That's hot sauce – and the name's an understatement. Euphemism, even…" I said rather cheerfully.

I think Tel and Gogron both realized something was up, because Tel reached over and tried some of Gogron's chili – just a bit –and looked a little stunned. Her eyes flicked from Lucien, to me, then to M'raaj Dar. Then she settled back to watch this play out.

You know, somehow I knew ego would get in the way of common sense. "I think I'll be all right," Lucien said firmly, and I shrugged a little helplessly and shook my head. Glancing at Mr'aaj, he was looking into his chili and as I sat down I stifled a groan. This was going to be…bad.

But funny.

Poor Lucien…he hasn't got a clue what he's in for – the question is, is he trying to impress someone and if so, who? Because he's about to embarrass himself. Now, he didn't seem to notice that the table was getting very quiet, very fast, partly because he was talking to Vicente, who was giving M'raaj and I puzzled, if somewhat stern looks.

He cottoned on a couple seconds too late.

Lucien poured the sauce on as Gogron had done…

"Lucien don't," Vicente started.

Lucien had already taken the bread and scooped…and chomped.

"Ohhh…" I covered my mouth with one hand, and I wasn't the only one to groan softly. M'raaj was flaying his lips, and Antoinetta was still as a statue, her mouth trying not to smile, but everything about her radiating 'ready to run away very fast'.

The color rose so fast in Lucien's face that I readied an ice spell to cool him off if he started to convulse – which seemed likely. Everyone had stopped eating – most of us were biting back attempts not to laugh coupled with looks of horror: because really, it wouldn't have been kind at all to laugh while Lucien was having the roof of his mouth and all his taste buds removed by liquid fire and chili-cheese bread.

M'raaj hid his head in his arms and I could hear him murmuring nonsense, which might actually have been the tongue of his homeland, Elsweyr. Even his ears were trembling.

I got up a little slow from shock and too many conflicting emotions – watching for a moment as Lucien chewed heroically and coughed. He was turning redder, and I retreated to the kitchen and returned with the milk pitcher. Milk is the best way to douse over-spicy food. "Drink it fast," I advised rather diffidently. Indifference, because I was afraid I'd start laughing, and that would be unkind.

I bit my lip – still with pride in tact Lucien poured himself a glass with great decorum and drained it.

"Dammit, Lucien just…"I held up a hand and watched the shower of ice crystals waft gently across the table, accompanied by a moderated icy blastoff air, which soothed the red from Lucien's face, but probably wasn't helping the rest of him.

I warned him.

And the looks he was giving me indicated that I was back midway down his shitlist.

--S--

Well, M'raaj and I were both called up on the carpet – I don't know how he found out about M'raaj's involvement. Much as I don't like him, he gets points for being innovative, and I wasn't eager to get the reputation as being one to serve up my own colleagues. Perhaps this was why we were simply both dispatched on particularly stressful missions.

M'raaj was sent off to who knows where, and I was being dispatched to Fort Sutch, to remove a certain warlord from existence. Originally, Vicente said firmly, as Lucien sat, arms crossed, glowering impressively, the mission was going to be his to take care of. But as I obviously had extra time and energy, it would be better served if channeled into more productive activities.

I actually blushed a little under the stern correction. I didn't fuss, I simply addressed Lucien and Vicente both very politely- if not deferentially, because that would make them both suspicious, if I started being timid and diffident – and immediately withdrew to get my things in order.

I closed the door and paused, then smiled.

I wasn't too deep in the shit over this, because the moment Lucien thought I was safely out of earshot, I heard him laugh, and Vicente joined in a moment later.

--S--

An hour later, when I was ready to set out for Fort Sutch, Lucien still was making faces, and I was sure that, despite any humor he might have had about the situation, he still couldn't taste anything, and wasn't sure if he even had a tongue anymore. "Here," I said a little ruefully and held out a tumbler.

Lucien scowled at me over the workbench. "I can do this myself," he said carefully, leading me to believe that his lips were bothering him too.

"Lucien, I hate to break it to you…but you probably can't taste anything. And that stuff is meant to be kind of strong…" the understatement of the era, I think, "and it's probably blistered the inside of your mouth, which you can't feel because I think you might just be allergic to the peppers in there," okay, so I was exaggerating a little, "Drink it, it's got aloes. It'll help," I set the tumbler on the table and nudged it towards him.

Lucien gave me a baleful look. Then his mouth twitched. "Does anyone you tell 'don't eat that' ever listen?" he took the tumbler.

He was referencing Andirio, or course.

I smiled. "Nope. But I haven't given up hope," I said. "There's more in the pitcher in the kitchen…"

Lucien nodded. "Get to it," he said, but it wasn't brusque or said as if he were still miffed. In fact, I was fighting the suspicion that now that it was all over, he could chortle about it and not just about the guilty faces of M'raaj and I, called up on the carpet.

Only to himself, or Vicente, of course. It would never do to encourage this kind of behavior, in an assassins' guild. The outside world would lose all respect for us.

--S--

Fort Sutch was located quite a ways from Anvil, though that did not bother me, except for a passing sense of distaste, much as one might feel for finding that the dog had tracked mud all over the rugs, knowing said rugs would now have to be cleaned. I swung north of Anvil, in search of Fort Sutch and went over the instructions.

Vicente had been the original assassin intended for this mission, because he could move very stealthily indeed, and the mission itself required a certain amount of stealth. Which is something I take pride in – after all, I've got a track record for stealth missions.

The target's name was Roderick, and he was something of a warlord – but was also ailing. That was where I came in – Vicente had handed me a bottle that looked like a restorative, a healing potion, or something like one. The reality was that it was a very potent poison – one dose of this would put the ailing warlord out of his misery. I was to swap the poison with the actual restorative, and get myself back out, undetected. It would be a little difficult, as no doubt Roderick would be surrounded by his loyal devotees and soldiers.

And I was sure they, at least, would be vigilant for foul play, if their master lay ailing in his fort. I know that if Lucien was sick, and I mean really sick, not sniffles and flu-type sick, there would be a lot of twitchy, nervous assassins prowling around.

--S--

Fort Sutch was labyrinthine – but small, as far as fortresses go. In fact to call it a fort wasn't precisely accurate- it was more like a ruined fort – like the one outside Cheydinhal. It was also jam-packed with Roderick's fanatic followers, and part of me wondered if I was actually doing a bonus-worthy hit without the option of doing things the easy way, because of M'raaj's and my little prank war.

Of course, it spoke volumes about the level of confidence in my skills – that I could do this without getting killed - but still. It was harrowing, and a test of magicka and stealth. Unlike Vicente, I am not naturally stealthy – I have to work at it.

I actually tripped over Roderick, while bumbling about for his medicine cabinet. He was a Redguard, and not totally unattractive –though now he looked pale and rather pasty, even in the flickering torchlight. Rufio had had more stand-up to him than this warlord. I didn't doubt that once he had been a redoubtable fighter.

I also got the feeling – a niggling suspicion that was really none of my concern – that he was being assassinated on the request of one of his own men. There were a couple rather mouthy idiots who would –I could tell – run the cause into the ground once Roderick was gone, if allowed to do so.

These were the two standing guard outside the room where I was sure the medicine cabinet had to be – because they were so lax in their duty. They were sitting to either side of a long hallway, at the end of which was a door, slightly ajar. They had mead in mugs and were swapping stories of a rather distasteful nature.

I was sure they were both exaggerating, and therefore I had little patience, except that I also had a mission, and if this was what it took to keep their little pea-brains occupied…

I digress.

Idiots aside, I slipped into the room – the only one that I, as far as I could tell, had not been in after being here for…well, I wasn't sure how long. More than an hour? Two? I was probably going to wind up camping out tonight, unless I slipped into Anvil and crashed with the Family there –Ocheeva counseled me that I might want to do that, instead of finding an inn.

I like the Anvil crowd – they're a fun-loving bunch, and all too quick to shake off any rumors that might be circulating, when said rumor shows up in person.

Anyway – there was the damned medicine cabinet. I checked the guards –still swapping stories, not paying a mite of attention to their surroundings…good for me, bad for Roderick. I opened the cabinet, and produced the bottle I was supposed to be swapping, and then switched the one that matched it.

I pulled my chameleon spell back over myself – and just in time, for a moment later, as I approached the doorway, I heard a sharp female voice begin to upbraid the two guards. From where I stood, unseen but seeing, the woman gave them the dressing-down of their lives – my ears had started to blister under her tirade, and then she stormed in my direction. Fortunately, the hall was not particularly narrow, so I flattened myself against the wall as she stormed past to slam the door and lock it.

Wow – that was close. I think maybe Lucien's luck is rubbing off on me, because damn…

Slipping out of Fort Sutch was easier than slipping in – even if I spent a lot of time wandering around looking for the exit. The corridors twisted and turned like the burrow of a mole, and were just about as orderly. I was sure I passed one or two landmarks three or four times before I finally got out of the fort.

--S--

The air outside was cool, and the sky was just darkening towards twilight when I got out of Fort Sutch and headed for Anvil. I decided that I would flop at the Sanctuary there, rather than camp out.

I was halfway to the Sanctuary when I overheard a pair of…well, I knew them to be shopkeepers' apprentices, walking and chatting. Apparently, there had been a grisly mass-murder here in town, and it had shaken people up.

The ship, Serpent's Wake, which has been in and out of Anvil as long as I can remember, was currently docked at the harbor …but all hands were dead. There was some debate, according to the conversation the apprentices had, about what to do with the ship now – but apparently it was making people nervous. According to the story the ship – like the infamous Benrius Manor –was haunted. As if they didn't have enough hauntings in Anvil…

I abandoned my quest for a place to flop for the night and headed for the harbor. It sounds like the sort of mission that Gogron would be sent on – but I knew for a fact that Gogron wasn't on a mission – and even if he was, he couldn't have gotten here before I had.

Ever had a niggling suspicion, didn't follow through on it, and found out later that you should have? Well, I had a niggling sensation just now, and I decided it was better to waste my time on a wild goose chase than to find out later that I should have investigated.

It's a catch twenty-two, but what can you do?

--S--

I even found the perfect cover under which to go aboard, so it didn't look too suspicious.

There was a lady, an Altmer, who had some association with the Serpent's Wake – I didn't ask too closely, and she didn't ask why I wanted to look. Merely said that if I wanted to get aboard, I could do so – provided I found and brought her a crystal ball, that was stowed in the hold.

Well, it was the perfect cover – I had the strong suspicion that we, neither of us, wanted our association with the ship too well-known, so I agreed, and when the guard appeared to tell me to move along, the Altmer told him I was her hireling, and that he should go back to his beat.

I smirked at this, and then headed for the ship.

--Author's notes appended--

I know that the murders aboard the Serpent's Wake occur prior to this point – back before Bellamont was reassigned as Silencer, but for the sake of the story…we're shuffling events. I figure this will be forgivable, as it was never a major plot marker, after all.