Author's notes: Oblivion and all its characters, places, events, etcetera are property of Bethesda Softworks. Hey! It's here! Everyone give props to L'Ankou, who reminded me I hadn't posed this. ;
Here ya go!
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Chapter Fifty-Three: The Gift
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Despite that we had 'breakfast' neither of us really ate. I didn't have the stomach for it. I felt a little stronger than the day before, but not strong enough to do much, other than make a nasty smudge on my next target's floor.
"Now, about the Sanctuary," Lucien began, looking up from his own picked-at breakfast to regard me closely.
"I'm not going back Lucien," I said quietly, but with a sense of certainly. I met his gaze easily, with no shiver of distaste – he is as he has always been. And perhaps more, now that he's the last of the Family I have. I won't argue that I needed the nap – dreamless as it was - I simply argue with his methods. Even though I also know I'm stubborn as a mule, and probably deserved what I got.
"I beg your pardon?" he asked in a tone that radiated politeness, but in reality held a gentle warning. He's got a silence-spell most people would kill for…and I'm ready to believe he'll use it, from here on out.
"I am not going back to Cheydinhal Sanctuary," I said quite clearly, calmly. It was defiance, yes, but it wouldn't be counted that way. I think I simply caught him flat-footed by anticipating his argument. I looked down at the napkin I was shredding with my hands.
"You'll do," he said firmly but gently, "as you're told." He's said it before, in recent days. I wonder if he's tired of it yet. Yes, I think so.
"I remember the Tenant in question, and I'm not so overwrought at this juncture," I said calmly and looked up, and met his eyes with a sort of benign weariness. I was not surprised to see a similar expression on his face, and I decided that what I needed was to pull myself together as quickly as possible and find out what the plan from here on in is. We'll both feel better when we're doing something – because we're creatures of action, for all we like to play with words. "But you won't tell me to. You won't even ask me to. So why are we having this talk?" It's true. I'm the only one left. The only one capable of doing anything more than sitting around in shock, that a Sanctuary in the Family has been Purified.
Lucien pursed his lips, and then sighed and looked away.
He wasn't planning on going back either, I'd venture to say. Too many memories. Too much pain. And you can't do your job properly, if you've got a knife in your guts. Or your back. Or your heart. "We'll find the bastard," I said calmly. Or rather, Lucien will. For I had watched the burning look kindle in his eyes, and he was now giving my tea a rather homicidal look that was never intended for me. Of that I'm quite certain.
"Yes," he said a little stiffly. "And then he'll be very, very sorry. If he can still scream," Lucien said matter-of-factly and I smiled coldly. It was a smile cold as a Skyrim winter. I've heard the stories about Lucien, about the kind of killer he is, and part of me for a long time had not believed.
I really believe them now – I've seen. And I felt – even now – a strong stab of pity for whoever wound up taking the brunt of that homicidal look.
I smiled benignly and reached across the table to touch his wrist. "I want to help."
Lucien patted my hand, then turned my arm over, looking at my sleeve. "How're your wrists?" I thought he'd forgotten the ugly marks on them, up until now. But looking at his face now, I knew he hadn't.
"Look," it was not an order, it was permission.
He shifted my sleeve back to mid forearm –as far as it would go, without being unbuttoned. The wounds looked better than they had during my bath – week-old and scabbed over. No sign of infection. "Good," Lucien nodded and tugged my sleeve back into place. He let me have my arm back, and continued, "Do you have all your things, then?"
"I do," I nodded. Everything except the armor and weapon from Deepscorn. But he doesn't need to know that. Come to think of it, I don't believe I've told him about Deepscorn.
"Good, you'll need them," Lucien nodded.
"Good, I need to be busy," I agreed, and glanced up to find him looking closely at me, as if trying to decide whether I was serious, or whether I had broken further. "I'm very serious…I don't like twiddling my thumbs."
Lucien nodded. "But for now, take a few days, rebuild your composure. Then we'll let you get started with your new duties."
"Thank you," I couldn't even force a smile for him. I tried.
--S--
I was at Farragut for five days – mostly by myself. It was on the evening of the fourth day that I came to the conclusion that if I was to heal…I couldn't do it here. The dark guardians were only so much company, and I took to roaming the surrounding lands simply to be outside – though admittedly, it was not exactly a pleasant experience. I could still see Cheydinhal on my longer excursions, and it was like having a dagger driven into my chest.
The fifth morning, Lucien came back, looking tired.
I was sitting in one of the chairs, looking at the game of chess I was sharing with Evander. It was obvious that while the rest of the guardians were hired help, Evander was meant to be more like 'company'. At any rate, he understood chess, which was why we were playing.
"I see you're feeling better," Lucien announced as Evander got up to carry out his duties.
I shifted in my chair. "A little. When you have a moment," I looked back to the game.
Lucien nodded and disappeared towards the bath. He was limping a little, as though his ankle was bothering him, and I wondered why that would be. Then I noticed my answer: he's breaking in new boots.
I winced – he should go with a lighter model, like mine. No blisters, no problems.
--S--
Lucien flopped into Evander's abandoned chair some half-hour later, and looked at the reset board, and made an opening move.
I countered.
"Enjoying your time off?" he has a contract for me.
I looked up, feeling, for what felt like the first time in forever, a sparkle of humor. "I need more to do than teach Evander how to beat you," I answered with a tentative attempt at my usual humor, and what wound up being a shy smile. Lucien's hand stopped halfway to his knight, and I looked up from the gesture to find him examining my face closely. "What?" I asked, blinking owlishly.
"I see your sense of humor's coming back. That's good," and there was something like…relief…in his eyes.
I nodded. "Slowly. I…" I stopped, took a slow, deep breath and continued. "I don't know…the longer I'm away from Cheydinhal…the more the pain dims. And…I suspect I'll heal faster if I'm doing something. I've been pathetic long enough," I said this without self-deprecation. It was only two or three days ago that I managed to go a whole day without my composure slipping.
I was having nightmares, though. Ugly ones. Lucien's spell had put me in dreamless sleep for one night, but each subsequent night was…torturous.
And I don't want Lucien to hear me shouting in my sleep.
Evander's taken to waking me before I scream myself hoarse, trying to ward off my own implacable demons. I suspect Evander will tell Lucien that I'm having nightmares…but I also doubt that Lucien will interfere, unless he witnesses it firsthand. There's not much he can do…not much I can do, except cast a silence spell on myself before I go to sleep. And that's something I don't like doing.
"Well, I do have a job for you, when you're ready," Lucien said. "And then we need to talk about future arrangements."
"Yes," I agreed placidly. I looked up at Lucien, he was sitting hunched forward, a thoughtful look across his features, fingers laced, the gears in his head turning.
I castled, nonchalantly. He'll never see the trap coming.
He swung a knight forward.
And my second bishop ended the game.
Lucien flicked his eyes up at me and I smiled. "Been practicing all week for this," I smiled. The gesture was still shy…but it was a testimony to some inner strength I didn't know I had that I could smile at all, without bursting into tears.
Lucien beamed at me. "Then practice a little harder," he made one more move.
Dammit – I forgot I hadn't caught that other knight. "Oh damn," I sighed, slumping in the chair and giving the board a baleful look.
"Yes, it does look like you're ready to foray off into the real world," he said, frowning at the board. "You are getting better."
"I've been practicing with Evander," I continued scowling at the board. And here I thought I'd won…
Lucien nodded.
"Tell me about this contract," I settled back in my chair. Chess always puts us both in a thoughtful-sort mood, good for ruminating and puzzling over the problems of the Empire, or mankind in general.
Lucien moved to get up.
"Oh, don't," I said and got up myself. "Just tell me where it is - rest your foot." I walked over to his bag.
"Outer pocket."
His bag seems like nothing but pockets, but I found the envelope, and the sheaf of contracts. The latter I set on his desk and weighted it absently with an inkwell, then returned to my chair. I examined the contents of the contract. "I hate undead…well, except for…" I stopped and closed my eyes.
"Yes – the obvious exceptions," Lucien said, but I knew that we both heard Vicente's name in the offing.
I set my jaw and continued to read, twiddling the end of my braid as I did so. "I can take care of this - no problem," I said a little more hoarsely than I meant.
"Good."
I got to my feet.
"Now?" Lucien arched his eyebrows.
I looked over at him and shrugged. "Might as well."
Lucien settled back in his chair and I could feel a sort of...contained disappointment. As if I was taking off far earlier than he'd expected. I suppose I understand – it must be nice coming 'home' to a place that feels like home, that has human presence in it…instead of coming back to a cold, dusty, musty fort. It was always disappointing when the guardians were the only ones home…
I stopped the thought before it became painful. It's true, though.
I walked forward, feeling a smile grace my features: it's nice to be missed, though. I leaned over his shoulder and gripped the other. "You're the last of the Sanctuary – all I have. Do you want me to wait a day or two before I go off to do this?" I asked. I could smell his soap.
Lucien reach up, took the wrist of the hand on his shoulder and pulled my arm forward. I realized why when he pressed his thumb against the scar, hidden beneath my sleeve, the mark that had been a failed attempt to kill me. "He's nearly killed you once, Sarielle. Be very, very careful."
I smiled and wrapped my arm around his collar bones and pressed my cheek against his neck. I heard him take a soft, deep breath, my perfume wreathing us both. "Don't worry – you've got enough on your plate already. I'll be very careful," I repeated with the same intensity.
"You do that."
"You too." I let him go and walked towards the ladder. "Take care of yourself, huh?" I offered as a goodbye.
"Sarielle, wait," Lucien got to his feet, as though coming to a sudden conclusion. "I…have a gift for you," Lucien said softly.
I blinked, and gave him a bit of a suspicious look. "Oh…"
Lucien motioned me to follow him up the ladder.
I followed and climbed out of the hollow tree.
Lucien was already walking down the sloping hill upon which Farragut was built, whistling – a chilling sound, in and of itself. A moment later Shadowmere melted out of the landscape.
I followed, slowing as Shadowmere pranced up to Lucien. "You already know Shadowmere," Lucien said and reached up to run a hand along the horse's jaw.
Shadowmere whickered and butted her head against Lucien's chest. He reached up and began to scratch behind her ears, smiling fondly at her. I wandered down and felt something very cold settling into my stomach. It had nothing to do with seeing the unmistakable bond of trust and friendship between man and mare…I'm not sure I can even explain my concern.
Only that…he wouldn't…he can't…
"She's the fastest creature under the night sky, loyal and strong. She'll suit you well, I should think," Lucien said, glancing over at me, before he leaned over to whisper to Shadowmere, stroking her ears as he did so.
As if she had expected as much she sighed and gave me a baleful look that declared plainly this was only a favor to her human. Lucien smiled, though and rubbed Shadowmere's nose, and she promptly ignored me again, in favor of the attention.
She reminds me of someone…but I can't quite place my finger on it.
"I can't…" I looked. The horse's red eyes were looking at me, sort of the exact polar opposite to a unicorn. I walked over to join them, and reached up hesitantly and at Lucien's nod and Shadowmere's growing very still, touched the velvety nose. Shadowmere lashed her tail and Lucien reached up and rubbed her neck, and she quieted a little.
"Oh yes you can," Lucien smirked. "Consider her a token of my trust…"
There was something he wasn't saying, but I didn't press him for it. There's a lot we're both not saying these days – because there's no point. "Well…since you insist…thank you."
"I do," Lucien said. "Your travel will require her strength and speed."
"That and you think I'll look good on her: a dark rider on a dark horse…your former post, I believe," I elbowed him gently and Shadowmere snorted warningly.
Oh…knock it off. It's okay.
"Now, what is the point of being an assassin if you don't take some creative license?"Lucien elbowed me back and Shadowmere ignored it. Lucien smiled, then addressed Shadowmere, softly, so I couldn't hear what he was saying –but I think I knew: it was along the lines of 'don't let this one get herself killed', or something like that – and it was meant as a continuation of our game.
Shadowmere shook her head and snorted, and pawed the ground. "You will no longer receive instructions directly from me – I've deemed it more prudent to limit contact," Lucien began, all business. "You will, instead, be referred to dead-drops, scattered across Cyrodiil," he added thoughtfully.
I frowned: that leaves a lot open to chance…and trouble…
Lucien saw the dislike of the so-called plan on my face. "Not the ideal method, I know," Lucien agreed dryly, "but for the moment, it is for the best. Once you complete a contract, wait two days, and then proceed to the next drop – that way I'll be able to keep ahead of you…efficient as you are," I didn't smile – he wasn't joking, and he wasn't telling me something. "Perhaps, once things have settled here…" he continued, seeing that I was all business, as well, and therefore wasn't buying, or pretending to buy his half-truth.
"He's killed someone else, hasn't he?" I asked, feeling cold. My arm ached in memory of pain and poison.
Lucien nodded. "But it is a clever murder…and I do not think that anyone else sees it for what it is. But for you and I…it exonerates our Family…or it will. Soon," this last was for my benefit. I reached forward and griped his arm above the elbow, as best I could. My hand's too small to wrap all the way round.
"How many more is this fetcher going to be allowed to kill, Lucien?" I asked. "Before the Black Hand gets their heads back on their shoulders…present company excused, of course."
"Your confidence is inspiring, Sarielle," but his tone indicated that he was of about the same opinion as I was. We're stuck. And neither of us likes it.
I smiled grimly. "Don't let the Hand work you to death."
"It's not the Hand I'm worried about…not yet, anyway," Lucien shook his head. "I would tell you to be careful…but if you don't know to do so already, you are in the wrong business," And I've already promised. He smiled slightly.
I smiled as best I could, but it was an empty, hollow thing, that almost hurt. "And business is good," I answered back. It will be, once I'm back in it, I'm sure.
"Indeed," he patted Shadowmere's shoulder, "Go quickly, and ride in the shadow of Sithis."
"Walk in the shadow of Sithis…" I inclined my head and looked at Shadowmere for a moment, and she looked balefully back at me.
If she throws me…
I boldly swung up onto her bare back, a little clumsily, but I didn't need a leg up, or any sort of assistance.
"Very good, you've been paying attention," Lucien teased gently.
I smiled, a little more naturally. Yes, but not to what he thinks I've been watching. Shrouded armor makes everyone look good – especially people who look good in the first place, and Lucien wears his well.
Shadowmere pranced slightly under my weight and, I realized, was subtly shrugging me forward. I shifted and she quieted, whickering softly and turning when I tugged the reins. She knows I'm not confident without the saddle…and it occurred to me as we trotted off, I'm not entirely sure how to arrange what tack she does have…it looks simple enough…
Well, we're a good team, I suppose, this mare and I: headstrong, and very set in what we perceive as 'our job'.
I felt an unexpected tingle of anticipation, as I returned to the place I truly belong: in the field. Enacting contracts.
I knew Shadowmere reminded me of someone.
