Special thanks to 16DarkMidnight80, who goes over these chapters!
-L-
"So, what would you like for Saturalia?" I asked Sofie, brushing her hair, remarking to myself how she'd begun to let it grow out.
Sofie looked up at my reflection in the mirror, as if unsure whether she ought to say.
"Please tell me," I prompted gently.
"I-I'd like a doll," she answered. "Not… I mean, I have Miss Delilah but…" her cheeks flushed.
"But you'd like a nice doll," I finished, unperturbed. "Something like one of Anne's dolls, perhaps?"
"Oh, yes," Sofie answered, looking as if it was too much to hope for.
As the daughter of a soldier, it probably was. Miss Delilah was Sofie's only doll, and a doll by Skyrim standards, which meant Miss Delilah was made out of an old food sack, with strips of sacking braided into hair, and a face painted onto the cloth of the head. She was not a well-stuffed doll, either, but floppy. She was also dearly loved. Toys in Skyrim tend to be fairly simple, as life here is fairly simple and unostentatious, compared to other places.
But apparently in places like High Rock, there is time and a market for making art pieces for children to play with.
So, as my daughter… well. I asked Marguerite to write to one of her friends in High Rock months ago, when Anne first asked me if it would be alright for her to give Sofie one of her own dolls. Marguerite graciously played go-between for me and her friend so that I could acquire a nice doll for Sofie—goodness knows I would have loved one such as they make in High Rock when I was a child! Anne was in on the secret, that Sofie was getting a 'proper, pretty doll' for Saturalia. What she wasn't privy to was that I planned to take Sofie's doll to my dressmaker and have her create a full wardrobe for Dollie… and a selection of similar garments for Anne's favorite, Mlle. Blanche.
Sofie can practice her embroidery on Dollie's clothes, once she feels proficient enough to want to attempt something with regards to garments. In fact, when she feels ready to start sewing garments, she can start with little ones. I'll ask my dressmaker to save the patterns, and will ask if I can hire her to teach Sofie how to sew when the time comes. Mother and I agree that a girl should have a skill with which she can support herself, and a dressmaker, even in Skyrim, can make a comfortable living.
I had to admit, Dollie was quite a beauty. Marguerite must have described Sofie, so her friend could arrange a doll that looked so much like her.
"Mama?"
I blinked, not realizing how deeply into thought I'd fallen. Fortunately, my expression was that of a soft smile. "I'm sorry, Sofie. I'm just glad you have time and inclination for playing with dolls. I'll see what I can do."
Sofie looked a little uncomfortable, knowing that such a gift would be very expensive, but said nothing more about it. I could tell it was on the tip of her tongue to tell me not to worry about it, that Miss Delilah was more than adequate, and that Anne was happy to lend her one of her lesser dolls.
"You look absolutely sweet," I declared, giving her hair a final pat.
"Thank you." Sofie climbed off my dressing table chair and turned around, presenting herself for inspection.
I took a knee, and she immediately stepped in to give me a hug. "Are you ready to go?" It would be hours until the event began, but there were plenty of things to do last-minute.
"Yes!" Sofie answered, giving me a final squeeze before stepping back. "I can't wait for my hair to grow long like yours," she said, eyeing my coiffure wistfully.
"It will happen. I'm sure it's grown half a thumb-length from this time last month." With this, we headed downstairs, bundled up, and had almost left when Suvaris hurried out of my office.
"Leandra! May I have a word with you before you go?"
"Of course." We withdrew to my office, and Suvaris shut the door. She had lost weight since joining my employ, although she had trouble sticking to small meals when Svana presented such excellent fare. I considered it a result of not being a kind of foreman down at the docks, with the Nords on one side and the Argonians on the other, and trying to keep the one side happy and the other side working.
I won't lie, Suvaris has a very unpraiseworthy view of Argonians.
"Thane Free-Winter stopped me on my way to work," Suvaris said briskly. "He said he needed to speak with you, and hoped to pull you aside during the party."
"Do you know what about?"
Suvaris swallowed nervously, but I don't think she realized she had. Her skin darkened a few shades as the blood rose to her cheeks. "I… think I might… but I would much rather let him discuss the matter with you, without interfering."
I frowned. "Is it so very serious?"
"It… could be… yes…" she allowed, looking even more uncomfortable. "Please, Leandra, don't ask me. Just…"
"It's alright," I soothed her. "I'll make sure he as an opportunity to speak with me privately."
"Just… don't think too badly of us, once he has." With this cryptic and disturbing plea, Suvaris bustled out of the room.
Well, I knew Brunwulf had something on his mind. I didn't know it was something that would upset Suvaris so much.
There was nothing I could do except hitch my pleasant expression back on, collect Sofie, and hurry to the Palace of the Kings.
-L-
"Oh, Leandra! You'll never guess who is in town today!" Mother called enthusiastically from where she sat beside a slim Dunmer. "Mistress Lilvesi recently left Morrowind to travel, and opted to make her first stop here in Windhelm."
The Dunmer got to her feet, features delicate in a sharp sort of way—traditional for Dunmer—eyes slanting elegantly under arched black eyebrows. Her hair, black and cut very short, kept attention on her features. She bowed deeply. Her clothes were cut after the lines preferred in Morrowind, but were made with sturdier fabrics well-suited to Skyrim. "My name is Lilvesi Helbathil," she said in a whisper, her hand going to her high collar to rest over her throat, "please excuse me for not speaking louder, muthsera; I suffered an accident some years ago and am unable."
"But it doesn't stop her from playing beautifully," Mother put in happily.
"Muthsera is very kind," Lilvesi smiled, pleased at the compliment.
Something in the back of my mind kicked for my attention. But whatever it was remained out of reach, so to speak. "Perhaps you would be willing to play a song for me?" I asked, producing a coin from my belt purse.
Lilvesi beamed, as if she desired nothing better, seated herself on the bench again, and withdrew a large zither—an instrument I'd never actually seen, only read about while deciding that music was not my strong point. I put the coin on the bench beside her. "Would you like a love song, or a song of good life?" she asked, fingers poised.
"As long as it's warmer than the weather, I have no particular preference," I answered amiably, seating myself as well. Mother sat also, and Lilvesi began to play.
The structure of the song, as well as the cords used, were distinctively not from Skyrim—not that this was surprising. The departure from traditional songs and music was a relief, although there was something about her music that was… chilling. As if the song had an undercurrent that wasn't expressed in the notes or the whispered words. Or maybe it was just the fact that the words were whispered, which gave them an ominous cast.
Nevertheless, the song was well-played, and if there was one musician in Skyrim who didn't know Age of Oppression, it would probably be this lady.
"Beautiful," I said, applauding gently when the song was done.
"How do you keep all the strings straight?" Sofie asked, regarding the instrument warily, as if it might bite.
Lilvesi laughed. "Long practice, little sera," she answered amiably. "Long practice, and a love for the sounds each string makes. That is what makes a musician good, you know—she loves to hear the sounds her instrument makes, and learns them as well as she has learned her own name."
Sofie nodded at this, then lapsed back into silence.
"I wonder, Lilvesi, if you would be free this evening? My honored brother is hosting a fete for a friend of the family, and our local musicians are somewhat… well. Clearly not of your caliber."
Lilvesi considered, looking around the great hall. "I have never played a palace before," she mused. "It would be a wonderful opportunity… though I worry my skill might be less than you are pleased to think."
"She's being modest," Mother interposed. "Her playing is excellent… as I'm sure she knows very well."
Lilvesi tried to look modest, and did not quite succeed. "Modesty is a becoming trait in Morrowind. It appears it is less becoming elsewhere," she said, as if by way of apology. "But if you feel my humble skills are desirable… you may hire them." Then she named a reasonable figure for the evening.
As a matter of form, I doubled it, on the condition that she play the whole evening, arriving before the event started and playing until it was well-over—meaning throughout any late-night continuation of conversations that might carry over the actual end of the fete.
"I would be delighted, muthsera," she whispered. "Now, if I may please be excused? I should like to prepare myself for the evening."
"Of course."
She got up, packed her zither into its wooden case, and swung the—
A Dunmer with a wooden case. Wore a silk scarf, carried a case with her, spoke in a whisper. Pretty thing, too. Was asking questions here before—back when the Butcher was still loose.
The words came back to me with blood-chilling impact. It was possible that there was no connection between that suspected murderess and this musician. However, it was better to be safe than sorry.
I immediately excused myself, and found the captain of the guard. "Captain—a moment?"
"My lady?" he looked a bit harassed, but no more so than any captain who took his job seriously, and was about to have a big to-do complicating his work.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything. But I am a little concerned with security. Tonight, there will be a great number of people here, some of them quite important."
The captain chuckled. "Not to worry, my lady—I've already doubled the guards."
"Triple them."
The captain raised his eyebrows.
Forcing a smile, I lied quickly, but convincingly. "I hear things, Captain. And I've heard a rather unsettling rumor that those detestable witch-elves might hope to infiltrate this party, or slip in during the night and assassinate our lord. You know such a thing happened at one of their parties some time ago."
The captain bristled. "Do you know anything more?"
"Nothing. It was only a rumor, but you can see how easy it would be to slip someone into the palace just now, when we'll have guests and new faces."
"Is there anyone you think suspicious?" he pressed. "Anyone you think merits more of an eye on than anyone else?"
"…not really. But let's put on a show, in case there is an assassin lurking in the ranks," I answered slowly. "There will be an Altmer, Niranye. Have someone keep a discreet eye on her. Also on, let me see… the musician who will be playing for us this evening. The proprietor of the Crooked Quill and his daughter, and… pick one more person—a Nord—at random. I don't want it obvious they're being watched. If anyone in the crowd seems to disappear, call Ulfric away. Tell him I need to speak to him, send a man to tell me about it, and take him to Hjerim immediately. Don't leave him by himself."
The captain nodded grimly. "To be honest, I'm surprised those witch-elves haven't tried something before now. I suppose I should have been counting my blessings!" With that, he turned on his heel and swung off, a man on a mission.
I took a deep breath the calm my nerves. It could be coincidence. There are enough things to suggest 'coincidence' that the Dunmer with the wooden case, asking odd questions, was just that. There are enough similarities between the Dunmer I never saw with my own eyes and Lilvesi to simply be a case of one Dunmer looking pretty much like the next, if you don't know them both.
But better safe than sorry.
-L-
Kanvanni and Zazaraya arrived in the early afternoon, to the festive reception of their fellow Khajiit outside the city. I watched their arrival from the walls, certain that I would be seen, no matter how discreet I tried to be. It didn't matter, I suppose, but my stomach clenched with nervousness.
This Dunmer musician was causing me no small amount of trouble and distress. How does one respond when one thinks one has an assassin in one's midst? Do you lock up a potentially innocent foreigner, and make a bigoted Hold look even more so? Or do you wait until blood spills, knowing you could have prevented a death?
Is she here for Ulfric? Or for me? Or is she just what she seems to be, a harmless musician, traveling the world? Should I cancel the entertainments tonight?
No, I know I can't.
The lack of a plan for 'what if you know an assassin is coming' troubled me. As far as I could tell, tripling the guard was almost all I could do, unless I decided to sleep across Ulfric's doorway. I'd already told him to please lock his door and windows tonight, just in case.
If this Dunmer is really an assassin, for whom? The Thalmor? The Dark Brotherhood?
Or, and it's entirely possible, is she simply here to gather information? Because the only evidence linking her to the death of Nilsine Shatter-Shield is circumstantial. She—or someone like her—was seen, and heard to be asking questions.
I swallowed hard, disliking the sense of not being in control of the situation.
More music wafted up from the Khajiit, singing mingling with it. And what about Kanvanni and his lady? What are their real interests in Skyrim, really? Trade? Espionage? In a few minutes, they'll both be invited—along with any of their children who might or might not be present—to the evening's festivities.
I'd never felt so uncomfortable in my post before. The cold wind and the beginnings of fresh snow had nothing to do with my sense of discomfort.
"What a colorful group."
I nearly jumped when Mother, unheard, slipped up to join me. "Yes, they are."
"You'll need to come back to the palace to oversee the final preparations, soon."
"Yes, I will," I agreed automatically.
"What's the matter, Leandra?" Mother asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
"Difficulties of office, they're really nothing." The half-truth came easily. "Is Marguerite as pleased about this little fete as she pretends to be?"
"I think she rather looks forward to the amusement it promises. It's not my impression that Eastmarch possesses the most lively court in the province," Mother answered.
It isn't. Although, with the amount of work and fuss over the past few days, I can honestly say there's something to be said for a quiet Hold, not given to extravagant parties. Heinrich might be enjoying the preparatory bustle, but I can't say I have. Hand writing invitations is uncomfortable after a while. "I hope our humble efforts will amuse her, then."
"Well, it's just as well we convinced Ulfric not to use the phrase 'for the three of six she didn't miss,'" Mother said dryly. "It makes sense to those of us who were there, but it could so easily be taken the wrong way!"
Indeed it could.
"I was talking with Thane Free-Winter this morning. Something has got to be done about the condition of the docks… and the workers there."
"You should have seen it when I got here. Master Shatter-Shield now pays the Argonians a fair wage now, and doesn't lock them in at night."
Mother sniffed. "This city," she added contemptuously, hitching her wrap more snugly about her. "It's ridiculous what it's been reduced to. But don't worry. We're already discussing how to go about making those changes that will improve my new home's respectability."
"When the war is over, you'd be welcome to return to Solitude."
Mother slid her elbow around mine. "I think I'd rather stay with you, precious," she answered quietly. "Solitude has many unhappy memories." She sighed, her breath coiling in a thick column. "So many."
So it does. "What do you plan to do for the docks?"
"Well, obviously, they need to be rebuilt, if what Brunwulf says about increasing shipping, or some kind of navy is going to happen," Mother said, making her tone brighter than her expression. She looked tired, aged in a way she didn't normally.
I tightened my elbow around hers.
"So, naturally, the workers' quarters and the warehouses and the like may require renovation or other improvement. There's an argument that the port ought to be totally stricken from this side of the river, and built properly on the other side—then, there would be plenty of room for growth."
"A city that straddles a river?" I asked, turning to face her.
"Why not? You've seen the size of the East Empire Company's warehouses in Solitude. The ones here are positively miniscule. Moreover, the slums in Markarth are better than the Argonian Assemblage. That needs to be erased from the city as soon as possible. I hate to be the one to say it, but if it wasn't made of stone, I would recommend a little case of arson!"
"…or a really good liar to prove the foundations were starting to give way," I mused, thinking to Kitty and her band of liars, thieves, and sneaks. Hadn't she essentially offered me the Guild's ear in return for my indulgence of their existence?
"That might work, but they'd have to be exceptional liars," Mother sighed again. "Come along, darling, back into the warm. I think Sofie is anxious to show you her final preparations."
I permitted Mother to walk me back to the castle, surprised to find how hot the building seemed, compared with the cold outside. Or maybe I was surprised because I seemed to have adjusted to the cold: I almost never wear that long-sleeved tunic of resist frost under my clothes anymore.
-L-
"I think it's most excellent," I pronounced up on the antechamber, the table of which was already dressed, and had those foods on it that did not need to be served piping hot—mostly cakes and pies, and sweets. Toothsome concoctions to tempt children with, all of them undoubtedly fancier than the sweets children would normally indulge in.
I approved of the marzipan replica of the Palace of the Kings, for instance, with pane-sugar windows. The adults would have the concoction in little fruit shapes. Cakes rich with nuts and dried fruits gleamed darkly; fruit fillings winked silkily through pie crusts, and crostatas in every flavor waited elegantly on a tiered serving display. Even the ubiquitous sweetroll looked spruce and ready, with little sprigs of holly resting on their glazed surfaces.
"I think you and your guests are going to ruin your digestions—and I hope you do!" I declared, taking a knee beside her. "It looks lovely—Heinrich helped you?"
"Heinrich let me decide where to put things," Sofie answered. "And when he asked if I thought holly on the sweetrolls would be a good idea, I said yes."
Bless him. Then again, as Anne convinced most of the castle to dote on her, Sofie has wriggled her way into people's affections as well. And if she hasn't, they pretend she has for my sake.
"We'll be welcoming our guests in about half an hour," I told her, admiring how well the lavender gown suited her. "Of course, you'll be there to receive your own, as is proper."
It warmed my heart to see her eyes sparkle at this inclusion. Oh, Sofie, my love. Don't grow up too quickly. It would break your poor mama's heart.
"My lady? The musician is here," a manservant declared, sticking his head into the room.
"Excellent." I got to my feet, took Sofie by the hand and—not liking to have that woman and my daughter in the same room—went into the main hall, to find the Dunmer looking around with a pleasantly amused expression on her face.
"We've had a chair brought for you," I declared, indicating the chair that at to the fore of several more, only one of which was occupied by a rather gruff looking flutist, putting Lilvesi in the position of prominence. "And please," I said to the flutist, "make it clear that I don't want any propagandist tunes—I don't care how traditional they are."
His affronted expression told me I was wise to make this insistence. "But, my lady," he began uneasily.
"My honored brother knows he is a champion of his people against foreign masters. Tonight, we are honoring one of his foreign guests for a thoroughly nonpolitical reason. It would be inappropriate to rattle about our politics during her fete. Don't you agree?"
"Completely," Lilvesi put in smoothly. "And, may I point out, that the muthsera is very wise to do this? One might offend her guests, otherwise." The disarming smile she flashed the flutist as she said this was as barbed as any I've seen.
The flutist froze, as if weighing what kind of trouble offending my guests in my brother's house might lead to. Apparently, he didn't like the answer he found.
"Is this your first time in Windhelm?" I asked, not forgetting that Mother says it is, but possibility suggests it is not.
"It is, muthsera," she answered in her rasping whisper. "So very different from my beloved Morrowind. But travel is beneficial to youth, do you not agree?"
"Oh, undoubtedly." She glanced at Sofie and smiled, but said nothing to the child, as if she felt it inappropriate to address her when I, her mother, was standing right there. "May I compliment you on your daughter? She's very lovely—very much in the image of your bearing."
"Thank you."
Sofie inclined her head, but said nothing, not having been addressed directly.
I was saved from further conversation by the early arrival of Kanvanni and Zazaraya.