And I looked upon the mortal face and saw, as if by a trick of the light or result of some ghostly veil, the visage of the dragon looking back at me. It was no physical mark, nothing that changed the countenance. But it was there. And it was real. From behind the human eyes gazed a creature both ancient and powerful. The memory yet chills my blood.

~Journal entry, author unknown

-B-

"But how do you know? Are you sure?" Delphine demanded, not for the first time as she leafed through the files I'd stolen from Elenwen.

"If you're not going to believe me, then why send me in the first place?" I demanded testily. The lack of evidence linking the Thalmor to the dragon menace—and the lack of alternative sources for it—had left Delphine edgy and, if I was feeling charitable, feeling a bit lost.

If I wasn't feeling charitable—and I was beginning to incline that way, more and more—she just couldn't handle her prejudices being wrong. A world in which the Thalmor were as in the dark as anyone else—and she either hadn't heard or hadn't registered my assertion about Alduin and the lore of the north about him—was something that put her even more out of control of her surroundings than ever. And she didn't deal well with being out of control.

"I, yes, you're right. I was just…"

"So certain it was them," Kathutet filled in with dark amusement.

Delphine ignored him, as she'd pointedly done all evening, "But if not them, then who? Why? And why now?"

I heaved a sigh. "I'm sure we'll find out. Somehow."

She didn't even notice that I hadn't really answered the question or given her my usual line. Ugh. How did her compatriots ever put up with her? Or has this unpleasant personality developed over time, through grief and paranoia?

The fact that I just grimaced at the thought told me I was about to start being very unfair and that I should probably get some space from her.

The files I stole from Elenwen's office were mostly dossiers, but they provided insight. I looked up from my stew (and my own dossier) long enough to answer Delphine. "I overheard on-duty guards complaining about a fresh shipment of 'robes'—wizards from Alinor. Apparently Elenwen is starting to take these attacks seriously and wants to increase security."

And her men are worried about these attacks. They doubt their ability to effectively cope with dragons, so I can only suppose they've heard about the Dragonborn being a dragon-fighter, with no information that average fighters (probably in significant groups) can do it, too.

I won't lie: it had been hard sneaking to the back exit of the Embassy when I heard that one fellow hope that any attacking dragon would go for the mages first. It made me wonder about the kinds of people within the Thalmor (as an organization) when the other fellow laughed and returned that he would like to see the spellcasters taken down a few pegs. Were they mage-governed, then?

I bit my lip, my hand me down memories prompting me with something I never would have considered myself: how united is Alinor? We know the Thalmor are the leadership. We know they have their inquisitors all over the known world. But…what is life like for average Joe Farmer or Jane Shopkeeper?

"And it's as good an excuse as any to swing the war in her favor," Delphine muttered.

I resisted the urge to shove the documentation proving Elenwen's interest in a continued civil war up Delphine's nose. Goodness knew she'd read it at least once. "I have it in her own hand," I grated out, "she wants the war to continue in stalemate. It makes sense."

Delphine glanced up at me, managing to wipe most of the patronizing doubt over whether I appreciated the nuances of politics.

You know what? When I leave? All these dossiers are coming with me. I'll read them. And I'll make sense of the little squiggles we call plain writing. I don't feel in a very trusting mood. She might lose them. Or spill mead on them.

Unfortunately, my frustration (and increasing weariness at the effort it took to 'be fair' with her) showed when I opened my mouth to speak. "Why waste your own troops when the enemy is willing to kill each other for you?" I demanded snappishly. "Better to let both sides wear themselves out and then roll in for another war. While they're weak." I crossed my arms. "This isn't peace with the Dominion. This is rest and reorganization." After all, doesn't Ulfric's file say 'First War Against the Empire?' One does not generally designate 'first' unless it is done ex post facto or, as in this case, there's a second in the wings. "They're going to start something again. Maybe not this year. Maybe not the next. But soon." I gave a low growl of irritation and worry, one that rumbled in the air.

It was awful to see something like another Great War on the horizon, knowing it was being orchestrated so that my side would be the losing side. It was horrible not being able to do anything about it…and it made that dragonish anger and sense of affront shift darkly in the back of my mind.

My focus must be on Alduin—or there won't be a Tamriel to save. But…oooooh, if I could do something nasty to thwart those witch-elves…

I suppose I'll have to be satisfied with not dying on their daggers while bleeding them of resources in their quest to destroy me. How costly can I make a campaign against me…?

"Stop that," Delphine declared blandly, shaking me out of my reverie. "You'll wake the others."

I glared at her, the rumble of diffused Thu'um increasing until it filled the room, like the sound of heavy doors in draugr-filled crypts sliding open. Any louder and it would start waking people.

"All right, I'm sorry," Delphine sighed. "I get…distracted when I read."

She gets distracted when she breathes, though I didn't say so out loud.

I looked back at my own dossier. There was no sketch for me, though there was a written description. They knew my name, my height, and hair color—there was some discrepancy about my eyes. They knew I lived in Falkreath, that I was a mage of some power (though I got the feeling that this was one of those 'relative to her kind' remarks).

I also found several documents involving my assassins: one was a note in Common that the Dark Brotherhood had been contracted to handle the problem. There was no justification, nothing else pertinent except for two pieces of paper: one of which was a note to Elenwen from another agent indicating the Dark Brotherhood had rejected the contract on my life (and killed the go-between who'd bought their services), the other was a note from the Dark Brotherhood. It was little more than another black handprint on a piece of clean paper, declaring that the contract was rejected, and signed by a thumbprint in red ink.

Kathutet had read it quietly then nodded, giving me one of those speaking looks: now I had to worry about Thalmor daggers in my back. In some ways, it was a relief. The Dark Brotherhood is a bigger unknown to me than the Thalmor are.

"You're being awfully quiet," Delphine noted sourly to Kathutet.

Oh, here we go…

"Should I growl also? Pander to your need to have the world behave as you see fit?" Kathutet asked with mock courtesy. The look he shot me, as if asking for advice, didn't help.

Despite my weariness of bickering (and listening to people bicker), I caught his eye and grinned at him. He does have a way with words.

"Thank you, no." Delphine went back to her scanning the notes, and I stretched.

Delphine hadn't been happy when I showed up with Etienne in tow, but as I'd argued once he was safely tucked away, it wasn't as if he knew anything about her. What good was an inn one couldn't stop at? I'd derailed the conversation by handing her her own dossier, which had distracted her.

As for me, I still stood in need of a bath and some rest. The journey to Riften couldn't be put off, but every time I tried to slip away to get that bath and a few scant hours of sleep, Delphine would think of something she wanted to say. I think this was less stupidity and more forgetting that I, too, had to rest at some point. That I was only human. If I seemed energetic, but only because I'd hit that point of being too tired to be anything else.

"Delphine. I'm going to get a bath and some sleep. I'll set out for Riften tomorrow morning," I announced doing my best to make it sound like a requirement and not a request.

It would be a scant night's sleep, but it was better than nothing.

"You should not go to Riften," Kathutet observed. "It is too easily a trap."

"That doesn't matter," Delphine interrupted. "We need Esbern."

"Naturally it would matter little to you," the Dremora retorted disdainfully. "You are not the one who acts. You sit safely in your inn and issue orders with no practical awareness of the situation."

Delphine looked like she wanted to throw something at him.

Kathutet seemed all too happy to bait her into doing just that.

"I know neither of you are that fond of me," I noted darkly.

Delphine looked more upset, and Kathutet shrugged. At least one of them is honest about it. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I exhaled slowly. I swear, they're like children sometimes. "Delphine. You want to rescue Esbern."

She'd been surprised, initially, to find out he was alive. In fact, if I hadn't thrown the stolen files onto her table she might have tried to send me right back out to get him.

Like a girl on a shopping trip: 'a half-dozen eggs, two large fish, one man named Esbern, all to be obtained in Riften.'

She took it as a question, and I resisted the urge to reach out and smack her over the head with the dossier in my hand. "Of course. He's an historian, our archivist. One of them, anyway. We'll need him. And if he knows anything about this dragon business…weren't you the one who wanted more information?"

I looked away from her, wondering if she knew how she sounded: as though one Esbern would be as good as another, one Blade was as good as another. Kind of like with me: anyone would do as he or she could Shout and kill dragons.

I wasn't sure whether to feel pity or distaste. It was entirely possible she didn't know how she sounded to an outsider.

"Esbern knew everything about the ancient dragon-lore of the Blades."

I frowned at Delphine until she looked up.

"What?" she demanded.

"Why was he studying dragons when there was no indication they'd ever come back? In the middle of a war?" I worked not to make it sound doubtful or accusatory.

Kathutet's clank and nod didn't help.

"Everyone needs a hobby," she answered with a shrug. "That was his. Well, 'hobby.' It was more like an obsession and he got a lot of crap about it. Guess he wasn't as crazy as we all thought. If anyone knows how to stop the dragons—"

"Look, it's not 'stop the dragons'," I sighed, "It's 'stop Alduin.'"

"That's a narrow interp—"

"Look, I've got three dragons up here," I poked my temple harder than I meant to and winced at the pain, "and they all say that if we stop the biggest, best, and first of them, then the rest will stop and consider their position." It was a paraphrase, but correct in all the main points. And, for me, stopping one dragon (however best and first among the rest) sounded better than something that made me sound like I was setting out to stop a whole army all at one go.

Delphine eyed the finger that tapped my temple. "I'd be careful with voices in your head, if I were you."

"Well, you're not me. And they aren't really voices. Oh, never mind," I growled when Delphine looked more dubious than interested in correcting her own ignorance. Suddenly, I found it impossible to stay in the room with her any longer. The anger and frustration seemed a bit too big given current circumstances.

Or maybe it was Kathutet's suggestion of earlier, that Delphine tried to give orders and stayed safe while I ran the risks and had to deal with her dislike of how I did things when I got back. "I need some air."

I began to gather the dossiers.

"Wait, you can't—"

I turned my head so fast it should have cranked my neck; my grip on the dossiers she had tried to stop me from collecting tightened. Her gaze met mine and caught, then her pupils pinpointed. It was as if she was seeing the ghost of something painted across my features.

Whatever she saw unnerved her.

"You're irritating me," I said as calmly as I could. "And I don't want to fight with you." I jerked the dossier free from her detaining hand. "I'm going to get a bath and then go to bed. I will leave early for Riften tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, you will ensure that Etienne is cared for until he is well enough to go as he pleases." I put the books in my backpack and stood up. "You're an innkeeper. Find out what happened to the guests at Elenwen's ill-fated fete. Particularly Balgruuf."

"I'll see what I can do," she answered sourly…but there was a subdued quality to the sourness. Kathutet's accusation that she needed a world that behaved just so—that is, in line with her thoughts and expectations—showed up like a bald spot on a velvet cushion.

"If you enjoy hearing that answer from me, by all means," I answered, making my way out of the basement. "Do just as you see fit."

Petty, petulant, and rude. I comforted myself with the fact that I wasn't rattling the inn to the point of disturbing others with my own displeased state of mind. Minor resentment is beginning to fester, and I'm not sure what to do about it to keep it from becoming problematic.

"That was refreshing," the Dremora noted as we crossed the empty common room to the little room held for me. "Why can't you be that charming all the time?"

I sighed. "Look, it's late—"

Kathutet shrugged. "Then perhaps you should be tired and grumpy more often. It isn't good for her to think she has control over you. And she does."

"It doesn't matter who's in control. All that matters is stopping Alduin, then finding something to do about the Thalmor."

"You're growing quite ambitious," Kathutet purred. "I approve."

"Will you go home already?" I demanded wearily, batting at him with one hand.

He smirked at me then, disappeared into a cloud of smoke that dissipated quickly.

Damn, I hate him sometimes.

Especially when I agree with what he's saying, if not necessarily with him.